Learning to Let Go
There are some aspects of this field with which I will never be comfortable. Being covered occasionally in body fluids is a cake walk, long shifts are usually no big deal. I quickly learned to adjust my pace and tone of voice to those in my care. I absolutely love working with people from all walks of life to solve every day problems, big or small. After nearly a decade, even death itself has lost its bite. I don’t mean to imply that such events are always easy to cope with or don’t come with pain. It’s just that after a certain amount of time in our work, death becomes the natural end of a journey we began together. For the most part, we caregivers enter our clients’ and residents’ world in the last chapter of their lives. Death is not an event over which we have any control. Leaving is.
Lately, I’ve been considering making a change. It isn’t that I don’t love the family in my care and it isn’t the money. I’ve enjoyed this sojourn into private care and my understanding of what it means to be a caregiver has deepened because of it, but now I want to explore new avenues and branch out. There is a new facility in town that has been designed by women who worked for years in this broken system and decided to do something about it. Person centered plans, amazing caregiver/resident ratio, beautiful grounds and owners who understand what is important from personal experience in the field. How could I NOT want to check out the possibilities?
Like so many of the most important opportunities in my life, this information landed in my lap. The timing was providential. I had just taken a short break in the middle of a particularly difficult shift and was contemplating how much I missed working in a facility when a text came from a friend of mine describing this new place. Alice! It’s a perfect fit for you! You HAVE to apply.
And then came the rush of excitement, immediately followed by the crash of guilt. How can I leave my client? How can I leave the whole family that both trust and depend on me? Such thoughts have always been a weakness of mine. On one level, they motivate me to give my all to my clients and residents regardless of where I may work. On the other hand, they prevent me from moving forward.
Caretaker personality, co-dependent tendencies, avoidance of conflict, fear of letting people down, lousy boundary setting skills. I get it. I have all the ingredients for that gigantic tossed salad of crazy, but I successfully work through such traits in a manner that promotes a healthy and vibrant life in most areas. They do pop up in my line of work, though. Especially when I’m considering change. Such complex emotions come from a good and genuine place within my heart. It’s those same feelings that motivate me to do my very best in every way that I can to improve the lives of others. It stems from empathy. It’s only when I let those instincts go awry that I become the master of my own misery.
The truth is I know change is not only inevitable but it’s also healthy. On an intellectual level, I am aware that the world won’t stop spinning because I consider other avenues in caregiving. Both my client and her family survived long before I got there and they will survive after I leave. And I haven’t even APPLIED for the facility yet. I’m putting the cart before the horse, here. I get that…Still. It’s a difficult thing to let go once the bond is formed between a caregiver/client. It SHOULD be difficult. If it were easy for me to walk away; if I could just brush off someone who has trusted and depended on me for over a year without flinching then I’d need to reconsider why I am in this field. That’s a level of cynicism that I hope I never reach. There are some aspects of this field with which I will never be comfortable. And I am okay with that.