Caregiving is Universal

I had the most amazing conversation the other day. I play a silly online game, not going to share the name as you will all fall off your chairs laughing and sue me. Not really, but just to be safe, fasten your seatbelts.

First you have to understand something about me. I am a pacifist. I hate guns and violence. Intellectually, I know they are necessary….but ya know….intellectualism is not all it is cracked up to be. So I shudder and wave at the nice policeman and think to myself, thank god that is not me. Then the war started and no matter what I think about how or why, I know I love those soldiers and wish them the best. I also know they are someone’s baby and the people we are fighting are also someone’s baby.

So while merrily going along and playing my game I made a friend. At first you don’t share much, just play the game together. Then as you run into one another more and more, you begin to talk. I learned he is a soldier and in Iraq. I cried. I could not deal. I ran away. And he let me.

Soon, we ran into one another again and we chatted again. And he told me about being in the army and being in Iraq. We started to share and I realized we had the same story to tell. Okay, not identical, his is much more dramatic; but so many similarities.

Soldiers on the front lines have problems sleeping, like caregivers they are waiting for the “bad thing” to happen. None of us know what it is and cannot prepare for it, but we know it is out there.

Soldiers form attachments to one another. They share a bond, a common experience, that others can appreciate, but never truly understand. Caregivers are similar, we immediately feel that connection with one another and understand.

Soldiers have survivor guilt. Need I say more? Caregiving is fraught with guilt, we don’t do enough for anyone, but we do all we can. We set ourselves up for failure.

As I talked to my friend about his experiences and my experiences, the differences melted away; and I realized we were taking care of another. It was more than a support group meeting. This was someone isolated, alone and under pressure reaching out for someone to love them and say “Good Job”. And then I realized, that person was me. So there we were, a 40 year old woman who is afraid of guns in Alaska and a 25 year old professional soldier in Iraq. Reaching one another, healing one another and we never even met. Who knew?