Yesterday I went to observe the Tae Kwon Do black belt test of a dear friend. If you have never seen this type of event before, it was a brutal physical, mental and emotional five hour test that pushes the individual to the end of their comfort zone and beyond. But it is also filled with symbolism. Included were many symbolic items of the journey that the candidate has taken, including the belts of all the ranks they have held before. The belts also have stripes on them to show the levels obtained between tests. There were objects that sparked recollection of past achievements, past failures and past conversations. Because, obviously, my friend didn’t just get up one day and decide to take this test. You can’t go from knowing nothing to taking the black belt test in just one day. It is the evolution, the commitment, the mistakes and the successes, compiled over time, that make the candidate into the warrior.
And it got me thinking – when was the last time you reflected on how far you have come as a caregiver?
We all sure know what we suck at. We will be the first to tell you how we could have done better for our children with special needs. That we could have, would have, should have handled something differently. But when was the last time you thought about the triumphs?
I’m not asking about your child’s triumphs. We think about and talk about that all the time. We take pictures and keep mementos. I bet you have a gazillion pictures of the first time your child achieved things. It is the most thrilling thing in the world when your child, after hundreds of repetitions and after no one thought they would or could, picked up cup for the first time at the age of 8. Or sat on the potty and peed into the air at the age of 7. Or said, “Hi,” for the first time at the age of 22. Or sat through dinner without getting up a million times because of ADHD at any age. We remember and think about and celebrate these achievements. We look back at our Facebook posts from 6 years ago and say, “Remember when our child couldn’t do that?” And now they can.
But, unlike in karate, where you can look at tangible examples of where you have been to remind you how far you have come and unlike your child’s journey that we document with pictures and memories, we as caregivers have a tendency to have very little documentation. I do not have a picture of myself in the kitchen the day that I saved my son’s life for the first time when he was choking by using the hook method. I also don’t have a picture of myself, fist pumping the air, on the last day I ever had to do this after an ENTIRE YEAR of doing it at every meal, every single day.
But, look how far I came. An entire year. Every meal. Every day. At first I did it in tremendous fear. By the end of the year, he would be choking hard and I would just pop my finger into his throat and clear it out, not even breaking conversation.
I don’t think about it because I do what I have to do when I have to do it. And so do you. But we need to think about it. We need to reflect. Because, you know what? You are improving with this gig over time.
Think about it. Wherever you are on the journey, thirty years or three weeks into it, you are more accomplished, more capable and better at caregiving than you were before. But no one is going to lay out all of our belt levels for us to see that, yes, over time we have developed into the warriors that we are.
So, you have become a warrior but since no one is handing you the black belt, the medal, the award, the reward, you may not even realize it.
But I know you see your mistakes. When I talk to caregivers, the same thing comes up over and over – I wish I was better for my child. I wish I didn’t make the mistakes that I make. I have fears that I won’t be enough. I worry that I won’t be able to give them what they need.
Here’s the thing. My friend, the one who took the test? It wasn’t a straight path to get there. He stopped and restarted. He changed his mind, then recommitted. He made mistakes. He got hurt emotionally. He got injured physically. He dropped the ball. He picked it back up again. And all of that led to this one culminating moment where he passed the test.
Not unlike our journey, is it? Except we don’t have a culminating testing moment. Because that is every minute of every day.
So, while you are beating yourself up over what you did wrong and why you could and should be better, please take a moment to lay out your own mementos in your mind of your journey. Not your child’s journey, YOUR journey. Where did you start? What have you overcome? Where did you deserve a medal? Where did you level up as a caregiver?
Because you did. You started. You persisted. You overcame. You are here. And I am so proud of you.
Want more? I have released a book! It is written especially for you to uplift you as a caregiver, soothe you, help you navigate and, most importantly, help you to be OK. Take a look!