Winston Churchill said, “Courage is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.” I experienced more failures in my first three months as a full-time caregiver for my parents than I did in 20 years of my marketing career. My enthusiasm waned more often than not until I figured out that my new career choice – being a caregiver – was going to take a boatload more courage than I needed to summon when I interviewed for a job at a magazine, interviewed Tom Selleck for that magazine, or proposed a big PR plan to a senior executive from American Express.
In my book, The Heart Way, the second footprint on the caregiving path is courage. My friend, David Neenan, is a retired businessman and commercial real estate developer in Colorado. Prior to retiring, his hobby was teaching a seminar called “Business & YOU.” He offered a variety of tools to students to help them take responsibility for their lives, personally and professionally. A key tool was courage, and I always liked his definition of the word which was inspired by psychologist Rollo May who wrote The Courage to Create:
COURAGE = COMMITMENT + DOUBT
While researching my book, I learned another definition of courage: “Courage is acting despite your fears.” So I adapted my own equation:
COURAGE = COMMITMENT + DOUBT + ACTION
The most familiar incidents of courage are the ones we see in the news every day – heroic split second decisions where someone rushes into a burning building or jumps into an icy river to save a child. Slightly less publicized but equally impressive are the long term acts of courage in the face of a serious illness like cancer or a debilitating car accident.
Common courage is what most of us summon daily. It’s the courage to walk out of a meeting with an abusive boss, to be happy while confronting a failed relationship, to face the numbers on the scale on the day after vacation ends, to make that series of cold calls, to take the car keys away from your father who shouldn’t be driving, to stand up and speak to a crowd of strangers. Common courage is an important footprint on the journey to care because the journey often requires taking action in spite of our fears, being committed to an outcome while doubting we can achieve it.
Courage usually means taking the hard way rather than the easy way. A friend once told me that in many situations, if one choice is harder than another, the harder one is probably the correct one, and it takes courage to make that difficult choice.
Caring for oneself takes courage. When you care about yourself, you stand up for your ideas and principles. You are ethical and compassionate. You know that, in the words of Buckminster Fuller, “Integrity is the essence of everything successful.” You confront your inner demons, real or imagined. You summon the courage to forgo fast foods for healthy ones and exercise often so your body stays in shape.
I knew I would not have peace of mind for the rest of my life if I didn’t go back to my hometown and take care of my frail parents. As a middle-aged woman, I was terrified of leaving a good, stable job in the corporate world, even for the short-term. My husband was willing to come with me, but we had no idea what he would do for a living. I listened to my heart and simply knew I had to take action. It took great courage to do what we did. The road was paved with depression, pain, anger and betrayals – the worst kind of failures – and yet we pressed on, pulling out the enthusiasm buried deep in our sometimes wounded hearts.
Today we are indeed at peace, two years after the death of my mom, at the end of that family caregiving journey. And we are prepared to be courageous again because we know now that life will present us with a new opportunity to take the heart way to care.
Next footprint along the heart way: AWARENESS
Please comment…
Shannon,
My brother, who chose to have absolutely no involvement in the caring of our parents when first my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and then my mother, called me “power hungrey”. Prior to making the decisions that were necessary for their care, I contacted him and asked his input, help, and involvement. He chose to ignore, take no responsibility and criticize my actions where it involved my parents care. I know what courage it took to move forward, educate myself about the options and then act on the choices I felt were right. Thank God I had a wonderful supportive husband who welcomed my Mother into our home for 3 years. My father passed away last Feb. 17. My Mother is in an assisted living facility under hospice care now. It has been a long and difficult journey but one I would take again if necessary. I will never be sorry that I cared for them when they needed me the most. I enjoyed reading about your journey with caring for your parents. Caring for a loved one with dementia is very difficult and definitely not the easy choice. Take care.
Deidre
Deidre, I know all about the “power hungry” label, thanks to a member of my family who doesn’t speak to me now except at weddings. And I admire your courage to care for your parents and yourself. Blessings to you and your husband! And thanks for your great comment.
Shannon
This is great information for anyone taking that first step! I cared for my parents for years – first by shuttling back and forth from my house to theirs and then when my mother had cancer and finally, my father with Alzheimer’s moved into my home for the last six years of his life. My husband was by my side doing this as well. We both had to leave our jobs when he required 24/7 care and we could not find quality caregivers to augment our work. We live in an area with virtually no mass transportation and we paid $20+ an hour. For years.
But I would not trade those years for anything! They profoundly changed my outlook on life!
Nonetheless, it was exhausting work. My father died four years ago. Because I spent years caring for him, I have to acknowledge that on my resume. I have to say that there is always a moment of silence when someone reads that or I tell them that fact. I don’t think they always know what to make of it but I’ll bet that silence is, “It could be me.”
My brother has cancer. I see the future. I’ll do the same for him as I did for my parents and be proud that I had the courage to do it.
@Faceover40 – Thank you for this poignant comment. Wow, you are indeed an experienced family caregiver. I know exactly what you mean about the experience profoundly changing your life. That’s what happened for me too. As hard as it was, I would not have done anything differently. And now I can honestly say I’m glad I know what to expect with other caregiving challenges that will no doubt surface later in my life. You ROCK! Best of luck and please keep in touch!