I’m a caretaker. It’s what I do. I suppose that I wasn’t always that way, but my father’s death changed everything. It was the first time that I saw my mother unable to even get out of bed. It frightened me, but I remembered my father telling me that I was not using all of the talents that I possessed. He urged me to work harder, be nicer. Somehow in that moment I felt as though I had found my purpose in life. I needed to help my mother. I felt compelled to watch over my brothers. I began to notice people who were hurting or frightened or feeling lost. I learned to listen to them and understand their pain because there were times when my own anxieties threatened to overcome me. I channeled my fears into my studies and learned more and more about our very human natures and the difficulties that have plagued people from the beginning of time. It was almost inevitable that I would want to become a teacher. When my mother had her first mental breakdown I was terrified, but also understood that it was up to me to care for her. Thus it has been for most of my lifetime. 

It seems that there is always someone who needs to talk or just simply wants to unload the sorrows that are suffocating them. I understand the hardships associated with living and I do not judge how people are coping with them. Sometimes what I see or hear is so devastating that I have to harden my personal armor to keep from feeling crushed by the cruelty that lurks in the world. I’ve had to find ways to protect myself from taking on too many causes, too many worries. I work in my garden or solve word puzzles or write blogs to calm the anxieties that arise when I begin to question what kind of world would be so unkind to so many innocent people. I escape from being responsible long enough to energize myself. I become ready to be a caretaker again. 

When I recently read about Gisele Fetterman, the wife of Senator John Fetterman, I found myself understanding her even though I have never met her. I learned that she has traveled on an uncertain journey for much of her life. She had to learn how to adapt to whatever happened from day to day, sometimes from hour to hour. She understands how quickly life can change and how difficult it can become. She is a courageous survivor, but also a generous caretaker. Since her husband’s struggles with depression have been publicized she has become a voice for families dealing with the mental health issues of their loved ones. She welcomes and comforts strangers who simply need to share their stories. 

As I read about the realities of her life and the love she seems to spread wherever she goes I saw a flicker of myself, although my little contributions to helping others are minuscule in comparison to hers. Still, I felt as though I instantly knew and understood her. There is an uncertainty about what will come next when tackling the needs of others. Some days can be overwhelming and lead to an urge to eschew responsibility and just run away. Those of us who take on a caretaker role know all too well that we are not saints. Sometimes we even feel selfish and ugly with our momentary desires to just tell everyone to go away. We have to learn how to cope from moment to moment. Gisele Fetterman calls it adapting. We do what we can do in the moment without building our expectations for tomorrow. We learn when it is time to give ourselves the gift of taking our own mental health days. We steal away to pamper ourselves with a day at the beach, a shopping spree, or a meal at a fancy restaurant. We let our sense of responsibility rest for a moment and then we are energized once again. We learn these things as we go along.

People who are sick, mentally ill, or aging are not always reasonable. We may think that we know what they need, but they have different ideas. They push back when we try too hard to do things that we believe will help them. Being a good caretaker means learning when to compromise or even when to let them learn on their own. It’s difficult to watch someone denying their problems or placing themselves in dangerous situations. In some cases we have to force them or trick them into doing what seems best for them. It takes patience and love to convince them that the intention is not to hurt them but to protect them. So it is with all caretaker roles like parenting, teaching, nursing, doctoring, ministering, being a loving spouse or child. 

It is incredibly gratifying to help others, but doing so can also take it’s toll. We often forget the person who is holding down the fort while showering the individual that they are helping with praise and attention. Caretakers are all too often unsung heroes who quietly do the hard lifting without complaint. We might briefly commend them for their efforts but we are just as likely to forget about them and the hard work that has become their daily realities. We would do well to treasure such people and to take the time now and again to ask them how they are doing. 

It was lovely to see someone heaping so much praise on Gisele Fetterman. She is the rock for her husband and her children who quietly keeps all of the moving parts well oiled and repaired. There are many Gisele Fettermans among us. Seek them out. They are generous people but also human. They would enjoy acknowledgement for what they do so naturally. They may be quite happy people because doing for others is a gift in itself, but even they appreciate a pat on the back now and then. Find those people and give them a shoutout. It just may keep them going one more day.