Responding with Compassion and Kindness

Lightening the burden of caregiving

I’ve found that there is always some beauty left – in nature, sunshine, freedom, in yourself; these can all help you. Anne Frank

How we move through difficult experiences

I have come to rely on compassion and kindness to help get me through. My husband knows this too. Even though it is a conscious effort just to stand up from his seat now, and he wrestles with twisting open a jar of cumin seeds or lifting a lid from a food container, when it comes to supporting me and my care for him, he is so gentle. At times he gets frustrated, and angry, growls and curses at the unfairness, feels despondent about his situation. Yet he maintains a softness and generosity toward me I am grateful for.

My learning has been to bring a calm composure to when I am with him. His emotions are so fragile and he cannot rush anything. Slow is his way. Which means slow must be mine, at least when I am around him. Sudden noise or movements aggravate him. He needs calm and spaciousness to regulate himself and to walk, talk, cook, eat. No urgency, no hustling. I am trying to honour all this for him, which at times is difficult, because though I love quiet, calm and spaciousness, I also love energetic activity and quick movements, and it can feel stifling to have to damp it down. But I am learning. When I need rowdy input or output, I put my headphones on, shut my study door or go out into the world to partake of it elsewhere. And when I forget, I try to make a joke of it.

I am feeling proud of the progress I have made and have to thank him for his patience and his willingness to keep speaking up for what he needs. He has always been a communicator, and has always encouraged me to take care of myself with things that nourish me.

Practices that support me

Writing, meditation, walking, dancing, artmaking, gardening. These things help me to find that comforting place within me so that I can bring it back to him and to our exchanges. I need the comforting, the soothing for myself because it’s still so shocking to witness him struggle. I might like to scream and fume sometimes. Not at him. About the situation he is in. But I also know, through my years of meditation and Buddhist study, that this is the just the way things are:

Everyone gets sick, grows old and dies. Some of us might get sick and not have a chance to grow old. Very few will grow old without sickness. And all of us will die. All of us will also lose everything we love. I know this, not only intellectually. I see it, all around me, and I practice it, the impermanence, watching how things come and go, live and die. Breaths and bruises. Friendships and family. Dresses tear, mugs and bowls fall and crack. Plants grow, flower and decay.

I even watched a butterfly do it, the other day. I found it on the deck not moving. Picked it up and put it on a heart stone on the table, in the sun, and its wings slowly moved together, like a fan. And then it collapsed. I tried to prop it up again. But it was dying. There I was, witness to its final moments. It was poignant and also instructive, reminding me that all life comes to an end.

For us humans, there are endless peaks and valleys, small deaths and rebirths. It is good to remember this, to count our blessings, savour the precious and joyful intimacies and bow to the inevitable.

Learning to respond

The other day I was on a caregiver support group call offered by the BC Parkinson’s Society. I watched as I recoiled when I heard some of the other caregivers speak of their experience. I wanted to get off, but I didn’t. Because I understand that their experience, though very difficult, will very likely be mine with Gregory at some point. So I allowed myself to close my eyes every so often, put my hand on my heart and breathe. I was giving myself some tender attention. I even whispered to myself: “It’s okay, you are okay.”

I am learning to listen to how I feel and to allow that to direct me to what I need in order to respond with kindness and compassion.

If you are a caregiver who is also learning, and desire to respond to the difficulties you are facing daily with kindness and compassion, I invite you to join me for

In this nourishing and supportive space, we will practice creative and meditative strategies to help you xxpress emotions you haven't been able to release or share using writing, movement, and visual art.

*Give yourself time-out to play, relax, retreat and rejuvenate. 

*Nurture a kind and compassionate relationship with yourself.

*Bring calm, ease and spaciousness into your life as a caregiver.
 

To learn more, and register for Tendher, click here...