Caregiving and Trauma

As many of you know, I've been a caregiver for my friends and family since I was 18 years old, which is 52 years in total. In 1970, I gave birth to my first son, who has autism. My son's father died 2 weeks after his birth, leaving me alone to find my way through a situation I knew nothing about and which didn't reveal itself until he was a toddler.

The signs were there, but even the doctors didn't know much about autism. There was no knowledge of the autism spectrum back then.

Caring for my friend with melanoma

After taking care of my son, I was a caregiver to my best friend Pattie, who died of melanoma at the age of 23. Her husband was left to raise their baby daughter alone.

Although I wasn't her full-time caregiver, I cared for her until her mother came home from work in the afternoons. I learned so much during that time, but it was difficult for me all the same, especially so soon after the death of my husband.

Caring for my dad

Sixteen years later, it was my dad who needed my care, because my mom, due to her ongoing mental fragility, couldn't do it. This was difficult in an entirely different way than caring for Pattie.

My dad had always been my rock, my steady place. His gentle strength was what had held me together throughout my life. Watching him deal with colorectal cancer was terrible. I was happy to be there for him and spend his last 2 years with him. Caring for him was an honor, but it left an indelible scar on my heart.

My mother moved in with us

In a lot of ways, taking care of my mother was the hardest of all. Our relationship had always been difficult. My mom had been diagnosed with trauma, bipolar disorder, and borderline personality. Throughout my life, she'd focused all her attention on me, good or bad, since I was born.

When she came to live with my wife and me after suffering a stroke, life grew challenging. I cared for her lovingly, though. For 4 years, I loaded her wheelchair from the trunk of my car, which ruined my back. I hate to admit it, but when my mother passed away, it came as a relief to me physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Caring for my wife with metastatic breast cancer

After my mother's death, life with my wife, Lynette, improved almost immediately. She was a great help when my son, who also lived with us, was concerned about me while I cared for my mother.

By the time that Lynette was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was a pretty seasoned caregiver. And as I've said many times before, caring for my wife was a joy. It was hard, but I did it with all my love.

Losing Lynette in 2021 was unspeakably hard, and I'm still not over it. She was my soulmate, and we'd struggled through many hard times financially, socially, and as a same-sex couple politically. We came through it all and enjoyed 21 years together.

My upbringing prepared me for caregiving

My life has never been easy, but I've never been a victim. Growing up as I did taught me strength, resiliency, and tenacity. Not that I haven't had my breakdowns from time to time!

I've struggled through many dark nights of the soul, but fortunately, I was also given artistic talent, providing me with somewhere to channel my trauma.

My life today is calmer

These days are much calmer. My son still lives with me but functions well in his environment. I've come to not only understand where my emotional trauma came from but also to accept it and move to keep it in its place. I can smell drama a mile away and avoid it like the plague.

Recognizing red flags has come second nature to me. But I've learned gratitude and how to create boundaries, and I can look back at my life as a caregiver and recognize the precious time I shared with each of my loved ones.

Join our community