As this is
the month of the military caregiver, it became more apparent to share an
alternate, often unpopular view on caregiving. This isn’t your typical, every
day, “day in the life of a caregiver” post involving public interest stories or
overly sugared up version of personal experiences meant to inspire on a deeper
level. However, it is also not meant to be negative or come across in a way
that makes the decision to marry a Veteran sound like a regret.
It’s
alternative because it hasn’t been a smooth path, or even an easy one finding
where you fit in as a person once you take on this role. To steal the most
popular phrase in modern news; “in these unprecedented and uncertain times, you
need to know you have somewhere to turn.” This is a cliché, and it’s meant to
be because while each story is different and unique to the person living it,
one thing is certain, we all don’t know where we were going to be when this all
started, or how we will feel from day to day in the constantly changing
circumstances that evolve into “the new normal”, whatever day on the calendar
that was for each of us.
I am an
exception to most of the caregivers I’ve encountered over the years because I
do not embrace the title. For the longest time, I associated it with the newest
four-letter word in an ever-growing vocabulary through this experience. I’ve
had positive, uplifting, and life-changing experiences as a caregiver that I
otherwise wouldn’t have been subjected to in my former life, but the same is
true on the flip side. Some of my most horrific life experiences have come from
being a caregiver. The effort to find my place has wavered over the years
because of the negative, but also unforeseen changes in the health status of my
Veteran and the comfort often found in self-isolation. However, when the
opportunity arises for the promise of positive, inclusive, or proactive
solutions for our family, I find myself applying even against my own
reservations because the need to feel more comfortable in my daily life can be
overwhelming. These experiences can’t be summarized in a single blog, but
there’s a sense that many can agree these statements are finding familiarity in
your own lives already, even with the outstanding level of implied vagueness.
I began my
journey post-injury, which in many circles, means I already have a strike
against my credibility. In other circles, it makes me a “new age hero” because
I “signed up anyway,” all the more reason I don’t embrace titles. Many days I
get my husband’s unit wrong; I’ve even misquoted dates of service because I
simply can’t remember. It’s not because I don’t care or that I don’t know, I
make mistakes. They aren’t intentional, but often times unforgiven, not by him,
but others looking to discredit my journey because they’ve been with their
spouse from the beginning, so I can’t possibly know what I’m talking about,
hence integrity and credibility under fire again. This particular behavior has
always been somewhat amusing to me because we surround ourselves with those
fighting memory issues, substantial injuries that affect timelines and manage
to sympathize on an unreal level, but are the first to criticize the caregiver
for making the same mistake. I’ve never understood it, but I’m sure many of you
have seen this for yourself at one point in time or another. If you haven’t, I
can sincerely say, I envy you.
As I
respond to all this negativity in my own way, I’ve been told that I’m
isolating/avoiding or I have secondary PTS, and therefore need to seek
assistance in the form of a retreat or personal counseling. This isn’t to
invalidate any of my experiences or concerns as a member of this very specific
group of people, but to help pull oneself out of a potential for spiraling.
While these can be valid escapes in the most transparent and immediate present,
the ongoing anxiety or possible repercussions are oftentimes not worth the
effort. I live my life by my own standards and by my own comfort level, and as
such, I have created enemies that I quite possibly don’t even know because
there must be something wrong with me.
I’ve
changed my level of participation over the years in various forms within the
Veteran community, but the subculture is one that is ever-changing and hard to
predict, lending to the ever-expanding skepticism. I say all of these things
because I feel that someone can relate, someone else has these same defense
mechanisms built by underlying self-preservation, rather than fear or anger. We
use the tools we have readily available that have been either self-taught and
successful or suggested by well-intended friends/family.
Many of my
co-workers have never heard my story because I will be the first to tell you
that I am not interesting. I’ve declined for years to step forward, with their
support and understanding along the way. I don’t have much to offer of myself
because oversharing is frowned upon in my experience. It's either overly
applauded or criticized beyond recognition of the original premise. I choose my
friends wisely, but choose my words even more cautiously because I’ve learned
that some people can relate while others will incessantly question their
validity. I can’t win for even trying, so I keep my story to myself.
I’ve
stepped forward today not for recognition or a sounding board for complaining,
but rather to bring my opinion to the forefront and let anyone else out there
know that you don’t have to share your story to feel a part of the community.
Notice that the name is Anonymous? Your life and experiences are your own, and
not for others to dispute or discount. You don’t have to sit and compare your
Veteran’s injuries to feel empowered, and you certainly don’t have to check the
preconceived boxes of performance to be the caregiver, the medical community,
or even who fellow caregivers have decided you should be, in order to wear that
title in public.
In summary, I don’t quantify my life to meet the expectations of others and neither should you.
~Anonymous
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