Kaleidoscopic Me #001 - The Part We Don’t Want to See

When I planned my move to Canada, being a caregiver sounded right. I’ve always connected well with people. I have an arts background (which helps me enter different worlds quickly). And I like to show up to help.

I didn’t know that, by my second month living here, I’d already have a caregiving job in my hands. This is my account of what it was like to be a caregiver in Canada — and how it shapes the professional I am today.

Ok, it seems I am capable…

I find it funny how my life moves in ~8-month cycles. For about eight months, I cared for a neurodivergent young man my age. For roughly another eight months, I supported several seniors in their homes, trying to be useful and present.

My first client lived in the same house I rented a room in. Talking to the homeowners (who were also responsible for his daily care), it became clear that I 1) was looking for a job, 2) had energy and willingness to build my life here, and 3) had the necessary baseline to be a responsible caregiver. They invited me. I felt a bit anxious, but after instructions and some training, I started my first experience caring for someone.

Two worlds, similar and different

Caring for a neurodivergent person and caring for seniors have a lot in common: reminders to brush teeth, preparing meals, cleaning and organizing the home, helping with clothes and appearance, administering meds, and setting up mornings and nights to be calm.

They also differ in details: helping someone to the bathroom vs. supporting an emotional crisis because a disliked word was repeated at school. Different, yet the same kind of presence.

The more I supported and served, the smaller my own problems felt next to what my clients were facing. What is a bad test grade compared to someone who can no longer care for themselves because their eyesight is fading? What is my heavy reluctance to cook next to someone eating everything in gelatin form because swallowing has become difficult?

This is the part of life we don’t want to look at, so we don’t collide with the reality of death. Getting closer to it made me rethink important things and even make a bit of peace with the feared lady, death.

Yes. Life hurts.

And that sucks. But it can hurt less if we open up to asking for help. I met so many people who could ask, and so many who needed support but couldn’t. Pride, fear, denial… it doesn’t matter. The number I helped vs. the number I could have helped was very different. I did my best, and it’s clear there’s a shortage of professionals in this area. Unfortunately, because it is such valuable work.

If it was so meaningful… why did I leave?

I left because I needed to take care of myself. Caring for others is demanding, and soon I met an old acquaintance: depression. Lacking self-care left me with no space to care for anyone. The movement is from inside out (at least for me). If I care for myself, I have strength to care for others. I did the opposite and paid the price.

It wasn’t easy to leave. With the level of responsibility and the intimate bonds we build, it’s obvious you’ll be missed. But there was no choice. I pushed myself to the limit, and everyone could see my exhaustion.

What I carry to this day

There’s a lot I learned — more than I can list. Every time I touch this topic, more lessons appear. Here are a few I’d name:

• Serving is a noble act, whatever the service is.

• There is monetary salary and there is “personal satisfaction salary.” Both matter.

• You are more important than you think.

• Caring for yourself is the key to being able to care for the whole world (one reflects the other).

• Serving is actively solving problems. People value this, even if the full solution is beyond your scope, your intention and action still count.

• Asking questions is essential for excellent work. Your experience might be great, but if you don’t ask how it fits the situation, you may create dissonance instead of flow.
  

Thank you for reading my long story (even as I tried to keep it short). I’d love to hear what resonates with you. Leave a comment and tell me what this brings up for you, a memory, a question, or something you’ve learned while caring for someone (including yourself).