God is a very present help, when we recall Him to mind: shiveesee HaShem l’negdi tamid (I am ever mindful of the LORD’s presence). Without doing so, we are taking Him for granted, as if He is somehow present with us, despite our actual awareness of that presence, and that He is sanctioning everything that we are saying and doing, as long as it seems to be within our own set standards for ourselves. Yet, this is an egotistical stance, based upon pride. Rather, it is written, “Do not lean on your own understanding.” And, “seek the LORD’s presence,” for without it we are very limited in our capacity to cope with all the complexities in life.
As a family caregiver, my limitations have been apparent from the start. Yet, I have been learning from experience. Caring for a loved one often involves obstacles that are placed in the way of the care that we are attempting to give. Moreover, the acts of care may be received without gratitude, or sometimes rejected forthright. At times, flexibility allows for the care act to be accomplished at another time within the framework of its necessary time window. The point being that all genuine acts of giving can be counted as chesed shel emes, a true kindness regardless of how well it is received or not. So, whether appreciated or not, received or not received, the effort is not in vain. Even if it is met with harsh words, it still counts as a mitzvah (good deed). Because a true act of kindness is one that does not bring anything in return to the giver.
When needs are met, regardless of how they are received there is a sense of satisfaction on my part, and ultimately a sense of acceptance on my mother’s part after the fact. That is the fleeting moment of reciprocity that occurs on occasion, as well as when she is calm enough to hold hands with me. Sometimes, I do so, before she goes to sleep and when she is still sleeping in the morning. It is a sign of presence, simply focusing on “being there” for her, while setting aside all of the other tasks and unresolved issues. Then, there is the existential need to also be present for myself:
When that space opens up inside of me, emptied out of everything else, it is a still quiet place, yet, it is empty. Perhaps, most people do not even find this place within oneself, because we are too caught up in externals. For myself, I experienced this briefly when in a support group I decided not to talk about anything going on in my personal caregiver world; rather, I intended to focus on myself. At that point, I realized, that my “self” seemed vulnerable, and as if I never entered that part of me or forgot it entirely. This ties into the phenomenon, known amongst caregivers, as losing oneself in the midst of a role that demands full attention to another person, the caregiver’s “loved one,” in this case, my elderly mother who has vascular dementia and CHF.
What is this place within me? The Fertile Void. Like “the open moment,” it is a place of potential for something meaningful to occur. When I empty myself of preconceptions, as a caregiver I can slow down my pace and focus more on presence. In that moment of simply being present with my mother, aware of her presence, her breathe, an being it becomes a sacred moment. I can set my tasks aside while being present for my mother. And even though this should not be as challenging as I would think because I have task paralysis anyway, it is still challenging not to fall back into active mode while quietly spending time with my mother. In truth, it is only the major unresolved tasks, where I am hesitant before proceeding, and those can be set aside as well as the smaller day to day tasks. Each day brings its own requirements, and space and room to breathe is always a welcome moment away at any time during the day.
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Breathing Room 