Replaying conversations surrounding the topic of caregiving, it struck me that perspectives are akin to a Picasso painting—splintered on the diagonal, harsh in its geometrics, conflicted in its ethos yet coming together as one connected tapestry.
I had the opportunity to share my views on the latest episode of the Mindful Dialogues podcast that asked a difficult question: Do Caregivers Have the Option to Give Up?
Naturally, I spoke from the perspective of a Glass Child, and on the panel were two parents, one of whom played both roles of care giver and recipient.
I thought my individualistic-informed ideas would clash with what I expected to be a collectivist cultural consensus, but it wasn’t like that at all.
Contrarian opinions turned out to be nothing more than a representation of the multi-faceted and big picture that is caregiving.
(There were no eyes rolled nor punches thrown. Instead, lots of empathetic head-nodding.)
We discussed everything from whether caregiving is a thankless job to how hard it may be to find help but the statement that I felt most passionate about was this: that “caregivers do not have a choice on how much care to give”.
A fellow panellist seemingly presented an opposing view to mine, opining that it is fate, we are born into our situation. After all, it works both ways, doesn’t it, he argued: If you’re born rich having done nothing to deserve it, why do you think it’s okay to accept that fate versus if you were born into a less-than-ideal family, why then do you think it’s okay to not accept the fate?
It’s all very fatalistic yes, but I see his point.
But this is my point: You can accept that you are born into a role of caregiving but you don’t have to accept that you don’t have a choice as to how much care you can give.
You have a choice. It’s not extremes.
Maybe it’s 10% for you, maybe it’s 90% for someone else. Maybe, it was 90% but it’s become 10% now, for whatever reason. It could even be 0% for some people. Or, maybe it’s hovering at 50%, trying to find that balance between helping others and yourself.
It’s a spectrum, or at least, I think it can be viewed as such.
I once decreed (oh stop, it was just in 2024, hardly an ancient aphorism) that moving forward, I will decide how much I am willing to do based on what I have defined as being my key Value—my mental wellbeing. {Read more about defining Values here}.
Nothing in this world is going to make me choose something detrimental to my mental health. I have learned my lessons well enough. Physical and mental lessons.
Choice is a word I have been using a lot these days. But not in a careless manner, not at all. During the recording, I shared the difficulty I had (still have, if I’m being honest) with setting boundaries because of that other insidious feeling—guilt.
Don’t let the guilt get ya.
It doesn’t help when society and culture are quick to judge our “unfilial” actions or conversely, place on a pedestal the most revered being of them all—the caregiver whose dedication to their charge is so all-consuming that they, too, end up developing issues and illnesses.
Shows are made about gloriously sacrificial caregivers going strong despite their challenges, even better if the camera captures their desperation and despondency—don’t worry, we’ll slap on a heartwarming scene of their charge thanking them after.
Call me paranoid but why have there been more such local productions recently? Is this part of a national “caregiving is awesome” campaign? To teach us what it means to be a good human, maybe? Because external service resources are scarce so let’s “encourage” everyone to keep caregiving within the family, no matter the relationship dynamics or individual circumstances?
So, I watched. The shows, I mean. Of course, I applaud the inspiring and tough caregivers, I am in awe of their will to keep going. But I was equally impressed that the producers have expanded the focus to show two things:
1. Scenes of care being outsourced. During the podcast, we spoke about stigma and how that can impact a caregiver asking for help. So it was encouraging to see mass media showing caregivers outsourcing care.
2. How the caregivers are trying to find a balance. For some, work is a chance to interact with others and have an identity outside of caregiving, for others, community support helps in knowing that they are not alone.
Let’s make it easier for caregivers to have a life.
And this is the way to go, I think. Start giving the rest of us hope of living our lives. Not just one-hour respites but external caregiving support so that we can actually plan a life for ourselves. Let’s have more shows showing caregivers who are building boundaries, living their lives and taking care of themselves.
In the podcast, I also said that I didn’t want to end up yet another data point in the mental health landscape. I expressed my fear about developing the illness that has destroyed my brother’s life (hereditary concerns and all) due to unrelenting stress. Another panellist shared the story of a caregiver who was so impacted, she herself needed to be admitted to the hospital for mental health treatment.
Why should we even reach that state of a breakdown?
Let’s not self-sacrifice just because the world paints us with glory—or shame. Understand our limits. Take breaks. Breakaway if we must. No shame in saying we cannot do it and we need to rely on third-party services and support. Back in the day, stigma was rampant, yes, but we have moved on (not completely, of course but it is better) so let go of the idea that asking for care help for our family member means we are not fulfilling our duty.
You are doing what you can without impacting your own wellbeing. That’s the most important thing to remember.
