I used to work with a woman who was very condescending. She'd complain that no one came up with new ideas, but whenever anyone did, she'd get this little grin on her face and discredit each new thought as if it were generated by a foolish child. The younger employees in our department were like eager puppies, wagging their tails repeatedly in hopes of getting a biscuit that never came. My own way of coping was to remind myself that the woman just needed to be in control way more than I did.
When I became a caregiver after my husband's stroke, I was surprised to read that some people love being in that role. I wasn't one of them. But that woman I used to work with? She lived for it. She'd talk about caring for her elderly father at her house, and then her mother-in-law, always with that same little grin I used to see when she picked apart the new ideas of our office mates.
It takes a certain mindset to feel good about yourself as a caregiver. I grew up the way many women do, with the message that humble is good, bossy is ugly. As an adult working in the counseling field, I learned the value of listening rather than talking, supporting others rather than boasting, and that too much pride in oneself can come across as, well, narcissistic. It bothered me to see the woman I worked with beaming with pride about her caregiving until I understood the difference between us. She simply liked herself when she was in control, but I didn't. She was proud of her accomplishments while I was ashamed of my failings.
One of the first things I realized as a caregiver was that all my efforts to be good and kind were not helping my husband at all. My "good girl" goals from childhood had simply turned me into an enabler. Doing too much for my husband enabled him to do nothing for himself.
Just as my husband was evolving as a stroke survivor, I needed to evolve as a caregiver. While he needed to learn independence, I needed to feel comfortable in my own skin.
One thing that helped me immensely was hearing male stroke survivors credit their wives for giving them the push they needed. It was like a pat on the back for being bossy.
Still, it took me a while to undo a lifetime of childhood messages. My first step came by accident because I could no longer bend down to put on my husband's shoes and tie the laces. My hip would lock up, and while I hated the excruciating pain, my husband hated the guilt he felt for imposing on me.
Despite my husband's apologies, though, he didn't offer to try dressing himself. With his nonfunctioning right side, he simply believed he was incapable. That's when I had to muster up everything I learned years earlier while raising our children…that if at first you don't succeed, you must try and try and try again in order to feel the victory of your own power.
It took a while for my husband to get the dressing thing right, and I know it was frustrating for him to take three or four times as long to do something that used to come naturally. But that experience was a lesson for both of us. It was the impetus for teaching my husband how to drive again, how to cook, and how to take care of all his personal needs. The best reward was that we both realized he is capable of so much more...maybe even more than he might be willing to reveal.
After all this time, I've grown to like the person I've become. I no longer feel like a caregiver; I feel like a wife. As much as I hate the term "inner bitch" for its connotations that it only applies to females, I've met mine head on and I rather like her. My husband, never one to desire a martyr, likes her, too. Although I never want to become condescending like the woman I worked with, I know there's always room for firmness and strong leadership in a woman who is also kind to the people around her.
While the stroke made me a teacher and my husband the student, we've been able to swap roles on a number of occasions. I may have taught him how to cook, but he's taught me how to change a light fixture and electrical outlet, and how to fix a broken toilet, leaky faucet and a damaged pipe under a sink. For all the confidence I may have given him in his own independence, he has returned the favor tenfold to me. I can now identify proudly with Rosie the Riveter and he can hopefully relate to Julia Child.
We've come a long way from those beginning days right after the stroke when he felt useless and I felt overused.
In the beginning, the stroke was like a large boulder that fell from the sky, landing right between us. It changed who we were as a connected, happy, loving couple. Before we could get back to each other, though, we had to learn to accept the person each of us had become.
Although we'd have both preferred that he never had a stroke, it was a life lesson, and a good one. I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend the rest of my years with than the two men I've loved...the one I married...and the new one that he's become.
