Moving from “Burden” to “Participant”, a paradigm shift in the roles the 1st generation can play in the extended family.

I hear this at least once a week – someone will state they don’t want to be a burden on their family. They don’t want to live with adult children, they don’t want to ask for help if they live alone. It hurts my heart to hear this, I learn so much from the Elders I know and enjoy sharing time and stories. I don’t want to see my role in my family change from participant — from being essential to our joyous and goal-oriented function — to feeling that I have nothing of value to contribute and would only be a draw on resources. A “burden”.

 

New American Dictionary defines burden thus:
burden |ˈbərdn|noun
1 a load, esp. a heavy one.
• a duty or misfortune that causes hardship, anxiety, or grief; a nuisance
• the main responsibility for achieving a specified aim or task
• a ship’s carrying capacity; tonnage:

2 (the burden) the main theme or gist of a speech, book, or argument
• the refrain or chorus of a song. (italics mine)

How did we come to believe that as we age in our family, our role evolves from essential service to a “misfortune that causes hardship, anxiety, grief”, or that we become a “nuisance”??? I have fixed ideas about how this shift from essential, valued, integrated member of the family disintegrated in our Post WWII culture, (you can find them addressed in Chapter One of “Holding Hands: Journeys with the Aging Family” to be released in 2013). More important here is refuting the myth of the invisible, devalued, aging adult and moving from “burden” to “participant” in the co-generational family.
The “burden” concept begs the question, “What do we need to change so that Elders stop defining themselves and their needs as a burden?”  How do we help them quantify the value they bring to the family?
It would be nice if Elders in a co-generational setting were more visible in our media. Portrayals in popular culture “cameo” grandparents, aunts and uncles. They are not part of the weekly story line, and are often written out of our own storylines as well.
This invisibility comes from both sides. Our aging parents, who began their families in the neo-television/post WWII era, also have no model for integrating parents. Likely, they moved away from their own families of origin to the suburbs after the war, leaving their own parents to the care of each other, their siblings or a child who stayed geographically close. To have parents live with us after WWII was interpreted as a weakness – not cutting “apron strings” or being overly involved. “You aren’t going to let your parents tell you what to do, are you?” as though taking advice from those who have been there/done that, would be shameful. Not independent. Not trendy.

Our very narrow tolerance of anything “different” bled into the way we learned to not care for our Elders. On the other end of the parenting spectrum, we were expected to cut our children loose at the earliest legal age and start planning our midlife, renewed “independent, Golden Years” with a sense of relief that all that family stuff was done, checked off the to-do list of life. I’m here to tell you, that was all a bunch of hooey.
What we gained instead were expensive and low-quality institutions to house Elders, middle-aged parents suffering from “empty nest syndrome”, new retirees suffering from a lack of purpose and sense of value. I stand firmly behind the belief, from four decades of observation and one of professional exposure, that humans are most decidedly NOT meant to be independent, autonomous islands in the stream. We hunger for connectedness, integration, participation, feeling valued and loved, and contributing to family and community. The tribal model of survival is as ancient as our earliest recorded histories, there is a reason why. This experiment of division has not promoted individual or family health as our members have aged.  It fractured family resources rather than concentrating family wealth and resources of time, and now creates a discontent in the Elder generation which too often leads to great feelings of sadness and loss. Where they may desire connection and support, they deny their own needs because somewhere along the line they bought the lie that to do so would be burdensome to the very people they gave life and love to.
This is wrong.

Recognizing how we got here is part of the solution. The other part is asking yourself how you show  you recognize the contribution your parents, aunts and uncles, Elder family friends make in your life now. Reminiscing is great, but subtly reinforces the concept that those days of value have passed.

  • Why is their presence important NOW?
  • How do they add value to your life NOW?
  • What could you not do without them for NOW?

In the early self help years, we called these “ego strokes” and they developed a reputation for being unhealthy. They aren’t. We all need to know that we matter to the people around us, and no age cohort needs that more than the one that has been rendered invisible, comical, burdensome in 40 years of televised cultural teaching.
What can your parents teach your children – essential family or cultural knowledge, survival skills, games and playfulness – that you can’t due to limited resources or time? Looking at the generations that stand on either side of you, what do they have to offer each other? Child care? Cooking lessons? Learning to budget money? Homework supervision? Being the licensed driver while a teen gets their supervised hours in? Living models of history?  Can your child learn how to express love and service to an Elder family member, just because it’s the right thing to do? (Teach them now with your parents, and they will teach your grandchildren in time).
This is how we rebuild a cultural model of family members taking care of each other across the lifespan. This model is seamless, no one gets left out. Everyone knows they are important to the quality of someone else’s life, to the security of the family and it’s members, and love and respect have ample room to grow.
Referring back to that original definition, the alternate to “nuisance” was:
2 (the burden) the main theme or gist of a speech, book, or argument
• the refrain or chorus of a song.

I choose to think this is where the descriptor as Elder family member being “a burden” first came from. As the historians of our family and culture, that is a much more tender and fitting definition of those who have come before us, shaped us, nurtured us, raised us up. May our Elder Generation come again to be revered as carrying the chorus of our family song.

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Happy Father’s Day,
Katherine

Grief happens

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."  Psalm 30:5
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Psalm 30:5

ORIGIN Middle English: from Old French grief, from grever ‘to burden’ (see grieve) .

I like that. To burden, specifically, to burden with sorrow.
It’s been a sad week. My heart goes out to the community of Truckee, California; to friends in Oregon who have endured losses, both expected and age appropriate and not. My work has brought me in touch with many people recently that have walked the Grief walk through death, foreclosure, the experience of family separation. The reality is, we will all encounter death and other losses, we will have to walk with Grief, for however long or brief a time is required for us to allow it to grow us and renew us.

Grief? Grows and renews? Oh yes, indeed. When we let it.

Like a fertile garden that must die back in the winter to make room for new growth in the spring, grief prunes away that which is unnecessary and brings us down to that which really matters and of which we can be certain — Today.

We tend to fight grief off. We numb our selves — “gotta get back to work”, “gotta get on with life”, “here, let me pour you a strong one”.  We get frustrated with people who don’t “move on”.  We want folks to grieve their losses on our timeline, because, frankly, other people’s grief makes us uncomfortable.

Grief and I are quite good acquaintances.  As a young child, I had two classmates lose multiple siblings in car accidents (all teenagers).  As a teen myself, I encountered 10 losses in 18 months around my sophomore year, including my own father and a man as dear to me.  There were car accidents, gunshot wounds, hit and runs.  Cousin, friends, and parent.  I grew through my childhood believing that when you are a teenager, a lot of people die.

Raised by a Depression-era mother who’d lost her own mother at 14 and then withdrew and didn’t talk to anyone for almost a year, I was encouraged to “pull myself up by my bootstraps”, “put on a happy face”, “don’t wear my heart on my sleeve” — colloquialisms all for “get over it”.  I’m sure my sadness brought up her youthful loss and neither one of us had any kind of road map for the sadness, or how grief works.  Without guidance, I had no model for how to pull myself back together.

(Beloved Swiss physician, hospice proponent and author Elisabeth Kubler-Ross had not yet published her outstanding guidebook on Grief and Loss).  We were adrift in a sea of feelings, and really, it took me decades to benefit from Grief.

Grief doesn’t go away because we will it to, anymore than those we’ve lost will come back to us.  Grief goes away when we are done.  Grief isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience.  Different situations bring it about differently.  As our parents age, especially getting into their 8th or 9th decade, we can predict our time with them is limited.  There is both a savoring of the days we get together, and often an anticipatory grieving, as we imagine what life will be like without them.  This is also often true of those who’s loved ones suffer a chronic, exacerbating, terminal illness.  A lot of the grieving occurs as the family prepares for the loss.

The difference in my grief experience between the unexpected and untimely death of my father and the slow aging and peaceful, expected, hospice-supported passing of my mother have no comparison*.  I was so at peace when my mother took her last breath, I had a chance to say my goodbyes, make my amends, and there was no sense of regret.  I miss her — to be sure —  and certain milestones make me sad she isn’t here to celebrate with us.  But the pain I feel around losing my dad at 16 still flares up with sharp edges and an enduring sense of loss — 37 years later.

*Hospice supported my mother’s emotional and spiritual healing process preceding her death, and kept her very comfortable near the end.  They supported the family by asking the right questions to get us talking, clarify values, make plans, and deal with the “business” of death.  Hospice care is generally offered to anyone with a life expectancy of less than 6 months, for whom medical care will not be accessed to prolong life.  In my humble opinion, everyone facing an imminent loss should have a hospice team at their disposal.

Here’s what I’ve learned about grief, and what I want to share with you, especially my friends in this very tender week:

There are predictable stages of the process.  They are not sequential, you may return to one over again, months or years later.  Denial (this isn’t happening).  Bargaining (“Wait God!  If I…. then will you take this cup from me?”) Anger (THIS ISN’T GOING TO HAPPEN!) Depression (which is quieter and people tend to withdraw and lick their emotional wounds)  Acceptance (the time when you realize it’s OK to be sad, and happy.  To love someone and miss them, and look around your own life, take stock, and be grateful again, realizing you are not being disloyal to their memory by getting up and getting on.)  Any state that begins to interfere with activities or daily living, or sadness that brings on suicidal thoughts needs to be addressed by a team who can help you negotiate this passage.

Different losses require different processes.  A parent losing a child is not going to incorporate the pain and heal the same way an adult child saying goodbye to an octogenarian parent will, nor should they.  The first loss in a circle of friends is not going to resolve easily, because this experience is so new and you don’t know how to feel, or how long you’ll have to feel.

Don’t replace sadness with anger.  Allow sadness.  Allow time.  Allow memories and sharing and stories.  Sadness will burden you, but not forever.  Trying to dodge it by numbing it with excessive activity or chemicals or television won’t make it go away.  Sadness will have it’s day, will leave it’s mark, and like metal tempered in the fire, will make you strong in ways you never knew you were weak, will reveal love from directions you’d never noticed it coming before.

I send love to those I know need it this morning, and to those who know this walk painfully and intimately.  Death and loss are part of our human experience.  Allow it to be what it is, seek love from those around you, be tender with yourself, protect those walking this walk with you.

With loving kindness this morning,

Katherine