Monday, December 4, 2006
The first lesson we learn after birth is how to take.
The reason it's the first lesson is because it is the most important. If we don't receive at the moment of birth, we won't survive. This, I think, is why giving is so hard for us to understand.
I was reminded of this while watching a segment of Cheap in America about how "good" giving is for one's physical health, precisely because, the show asserted, it is good for one's mental health. The segment used words and phrases like "high", "feel good chemicals like dopamine", "reward", "energized", "spiritual buzz". Giving apparently enhances all areas of one's life: School performance, work performance, social performance and internal sense of peace.
I can't argue with this. I've felt it. I know it's true. Being a full time caregiver, I also focused on a tiny quote by Steven Post in the show that probably only caregivers of all stripes noticed: "...at the right dose, science says it's very good for you." Italics are mine.
The right dose. How do we know when we've overdosed? Full time caregivers know. It's when you can't contemplate giving without becoming aware of the certainty of pain and exhaustion, both emotional and physical. At that point, you can't give, anymore, until you've received. Additionally, random receiving doesn't work. Somehow, some way, you need to receive something in particular, not something in general.
My Christmas change of heart, I think, is a good example of this. If you've been following along over the last month or so in this journal, it can't have escaped your notice that I've overdosed on giving. I've written about it so acutely that I imagine it seems I am obsessed with this. It's also been obvious that I have assumed that I was beyond cure, since I am clearly, at the moment, beyond giving, cheerful giving, anyway. Anything. To anyone. Except the habitual giving I perform minute by minute with my mother, which, while so habitual that I don't notice pain or exhaustion and I believe it doesn't affect me, clearly affects my ability to give to others.
Then, I was offered two gifts, so similar in quantity as to be indistinguishable but so radically different in quality that the choice of which to choose (I couldn't choose both) was, as the above mentioned segment also states, a "no brainer": The gift of Mom and I being hosted during Christmas. The first offering, while well intentioned, presented me with the gift of giving even more than I already have: Giving Mom as the treasured family jewel to be passed about and admired without the jewel having to be tended, as the jewel's janitor would, of course, be present. The second offering presented me with the opportunity to pass around some of my janitorial caregiver concerns, allow my mother to be treated as a treasured individual, instead of a jewel, and promised relaxation and merriment for both of us.
I was so low in resources that I chose to receive, this year, instead of give. Amazing what happened. My spirit revived before the phone call extending the second invitation was finished. I was so filled with relief that I found myself offering, yet again: To provide part of the holiday feast. Previous to the phone call I had decided that I wasn't going to worry about traditional Christmas giving, this year. The process of thinking about what would delight my people, relatives and friends, seemed so overwhelming that I simply couldn't contemplate it. This is especially painful for me because I'm an especially meticulous gift chooser. It's something in which I take pride and it is especially painful when I not only don't feel like giving but am bereft of internal resources to the point of contemplating giving as painful. Immediately after the phone call, though, I was suddenly inspired with an idea of what to give, as Christmas gifts, to our three hosts. I became so excited about the the pleasure the items would solicit that I dashed out and purchased them the following day. Granted, I still can't think about Christmas shopping for anyone else, and may not find this aspect of Christmas giving revived before it's too late but, you know, it's a start.
So, yes, I've found, in these 13 years of advanced giving, that giving is rewarded. I've received some extraordinary benefits, including those intangibles much hyped by the above show. I've also found that I am not yet so spiritually advanced that I cannot overdose on giving. I occasionally contemplate that being this advanced would be wonderful because it would certainly render being my mother's companion and caregiver much easier and much more joyful, but I haven't figured out a way to get there, yet, and am not scourging myself over this lack of ability. After all, Mother Theresa's nomination for sainthood wasn't proposed because she was she was the ultimate caregiver, although her profession including bouts of caregiving. Her special gift was more along the lines of an inspired CEO, especially talented in talking others into giving resources to her project; thus, she could be said to be the ultimate receiver. The sisters she eventually employed to do the bulk of the caregiving weren't nominated for sainthood.
All of you who know intense needs caregivers, think twice, this year, before you give the gift of an invitation to a holiday get-together to a caregiver and her charge. Turn the tables on yourself. Think about what you're asking them to give as you extend your invitation and what you're expecting to receive. Be aware that The Season of Giving is hard on those who have chosen to give intense needs care. Think about how you can balance the giving/receiving scales for your caregiver. Consider that asking your caregiver to Display the Ancient One During the Holidays is asking them to give, yet again, not receive. Step back and consider what you can give, not only during the holidays, but throughout the year, that will allow the caregiver you know to relax, revive and be able to face the new year with a renewed spirit of giving.
Giving may be good for people, but so is receiving. Intense needs caregivers know this better than anyone, precisely because they rarely receive much of anything and are always giving almost everything. Give yourself the gift, this year, of watching your caregiver flower in the joy of receiving a truly thoughtful gift from you.
I was reminded of this while watching a segment of Cheap in America about how "good" giving is for one's physical health, precisely because, the show asserted, it is good for one's mental health. The segment used words and phrases like "high", "feel good chemicals like dopamine", "reward", "energized", "spiritual buzz". Giving apparently enhances all areas of one's life: School performance, work performance, social performance and internal sense of peace.
I can't argue with this. I've felt it. I know it's true. Being a full time caregiver, I also focused on a tiny quote by Steven Post in the show that probably only caregivers of all stripes noticed: "...at the right dose, science says it's very good for you." Italics are mine.
The right dose. How do we know when we've overdosed? Full time caregivers know. It's when you can't contemplate giving without becoming aware of the certainty of pain and exhaustion, both emotional and physical. At that point, you can't give, anymore, until you've received. Additionally, random receiving doesn't work. Somehow, some way, you need to receive something in particular, not something in general.
My Christmas change of heart, I think, is a good example of this. If you've been following along over the last month or so in this journal, it can't have escaped your notice that I've overdosed on giving. I've written about it so acutely that I imagine it seems I am obsessed with this. It's also been obvious that I have assumed that I was beyond cure, since I am clearly, at the moment, beyond giving, cheerful giving, anyway. Anything. To anyone. Except the habitual giving I perform minute by minute with my mother, which, while so habitual that I don't notice pain or exhaustion and I believe it doesn't affect me, clearly affects my ability to give to others.
Then, I was offered two gifts, so similar in quantity as to be indistinguishable but so radically different in quality that the choice of which to choose (I couldn't choose both) was, as the above mentioned segment also states, a "no brainer": The gift of Mom and I being hosted during Christmas. The first offering, while well intentioned, presented me with the gift of giving even more than I already have: Giving Mom as the treasured family jewel to be passed about and admired without the jewel having to be tended, as the jewel's janitor would, of course, be present. The second offering presented me with the opportunity to pass around some of my janitorial caregiver concerns, allow my mother to be treated as a treasured individual, instead of a jewel, and promised relaxation and merriment for both of us.
I was so low in resources that I chose to receive, this year, instead of give. Amazing what happened. My spirit revived before the phone call extending the second invitation was finished. I was so filled with relief that I found myself offering, yet again: To provide part of the holiday feast. Previous to the phone call I had decided that I wasn't going to worry about traditional Christmas giving, this year. The process of thinking about what would delight my people, relatives and friends, seemed so overwhelming that I simply couldn't contemplate it. This is especially painful for me because I'm an especially meticulous gift chooser. It's something in which I take pride and it is especially painful when I not only don't feel like giving but am bereft of internal resources to the point of contemplating giving as painful. Immediately after the phone call, though, I was suddenly inspired with an idea of what to give, as Christmas gifts, to our three hosts. I became so excited about the the pleasure the items would solicit that I dashed out and purchased them the following day. Granted, I still can't think about Christmas shopping for anyone else, and may not find this aspect of Christmas giving revived before it's too late but, you know, it's a start.
So, yes, I've found, in these 13 years of advanced giving, that giving is rewarded. I've received some extraordinary benefits, including those intangibles much hyped by the above show. I've also found that I am not yet so spiritually advanced that I cannot overdose on giving. I occasionally contemplate that being this advanced would be wonderful because it would certainly render being my mother's companion and caregiver much easier and much more joyful, but I haven't figured out a way to get there, yet, and am not scourging myself over this lack of ability. After all, Mother Theresa's nomination for sainthood wasn't proposed because she was she was the ultimate caregiver, although her profession including bouts of caregiving. Her special gift was more along the lines of an inspired CEO, especially talented in talking others into giving resources to her project; thus, she could be said to be the ultimate receiver. The sisters she eventually employed to do the bulk of the caregiving weren't nominated for sainthood.
All of you who know intense needs caregivers, think twice, this year, before you give the gift of an invitation to a holiday get-together to a caregiver and her charge. Turn the tables on yourself. Think about what you're asking them to give as you extend your invitation and what you're expecting to receive. Be aware that The Season of Giving is hard on those who have chosen to give intense needs care. Think about how you can balance the giving/receiving scales for your caregiver. Consider that asking your caregiver to Display the Ancient One During the Holidays is asking them to give, yet again, not receive. Step back and consider what you can give, not only during the holidays, but throughout the year, that will allow the caregiver you know to relax, revive and be able to face the new year with a renewed spirit of giving.
Giving may be good for people, but so is receiving. Intense needs caregivers know this better than anyone, precisely because they rarely receive much of anything and are always giving almost everything. Give yourself the gift, this year, of watching your caregiver flower in the joy of receiving a truly thoughtful gift from you.
