The Pity Party Vortex

and
the beauty of bitchiness

When I was a little girl, “pity parties” - whining, complaining, blaming somebody else for my behavior - were not allowed.  My parents were hardworking, ambitious depression kids on the rise.  They were hopeful, grateful, faithful, and proudly self-reliant.  They seldom missed an opportunity to remind me and my brother that people in Africa were starving, and not everybody had their own bed, clean water, food on the table, or toys.  We were to work hard, “suck it up,” be grateful for everything- even those damned Spam and butter sandwiches ! - and “go out and make it a good day.”

I masterfully passed these messages onto my children.  And while gratitude is DA BOMB, working yourself to the bone and intolerance of feelings are not.

What’s all this got to do with elder care ?

Only EVERYTHING.

Some elders LOVE pity parties !  They’re like babies with colic.  They’re difficult, cranky, and demanding.  Nothing is good enough.  Nothing makes them happy.  They complain about everything - food, weather, people - you name it, and top it all with shaming family members for not calling, not visiting, not _____  - fill in the blank !  Combine that with an illness or condition that YOU’RE in charge of overseeing and you could be in for quite a time !!!

Unless ~

YOU’RE OPEN to seeing this through different eyes. For example, what if this experience is a curious path to your own happiness and well being ?  

Sound crazy ?  Too woo-woo ?

I’ll share my discoveries. 

I’ve been taught, and cannot UNLEARN, that everybody is my mirror.  If I’m seeing something I don’t like in another, that’s a shadow part of me that is calling for my attention, a part of me that wants to be healed, accepted and loved so I can feel WHOLE, be the empowered human I was born to be.  Before I learned this, I automatically defaulted to the usual quick fix - screaming, fighting, cussing, separating; but AWAKE and INFORMED, I now PAUSE, BREATHE, EXPLORE.  

The truth is, some elders are simply CONSUMED WITH FEAR.  Yes, they might be afraid of dying, but they’re also afraid of falling, of losing their independence, their loved ones, their home, their routines, their minds, the ability to walk, talk, eat, breathe.  They’re afraid of running out of money, nursing homes, medical bills and care, of becoming a burden, incontinence, loneliness, and most of all, becoming useless, invisible, and forgotten.  Awake, I get to ask myself, “When have I been so consumed with fear ?  When has basic survival been my goal ?  When have the uncertainties of life scared ME shitless, made ME miserable ?”

Oh, please.  That’s like asking “does my dog like cheese ?!”  OF COURSE, I’ve felt these things !  I had a childhood !  I’m human !  

And when I remember those times, what’s that like ?  

Horrible !  Sad, scary.

What did I do ?  

Frankly, back then, I bitched, whined and cried.

And what did I really want ?  

I wanted to be seen and heard.  I wanted  somebody to understand, validate my feelings, and care.  I wanted someone to hold me, tell me everything was going to be alright. 

I wanted to be loved.

Ahh…I’m thinkin’ that’s something everybody can relate to… Not “woo-woo” at all.

So the next time your elder is having a bad day, you might pause, take a breath, and ask yourself, “When have I felt like this ?”  Nasty, negative contrary, out of control ?  Then notice any thoughts, sensations, or memories that arrive.  You might be surprised.  You might realize you, too, have had these moments.  You might feel yourself soften, understand.  You might build upon your empathy muscle.  And every time you do this, you’ll actually be practicing self care.  And every time you practice self care, you become more of who you were born to be.

THAT’S the beauty of bitchiness.