The Art of Helping: #3 Giving permission to vent

Dorothy was the only one of my friends with caregiving experience, which happened to overlap mine. She understood the exhaustion, the anger, the bewilderment, the isolation, the tedium when no one else did. She knew that I could feel all that and still love my father. She let me say what I needed to say in order to keep going, and I hope I did the same for her. I had just got my first computer and the emails flew between us. Our mutual need to vent found the perfect medium in emails; in them we ranted and raved, whined and wailed, not at the cared-for but at caregiving.

She never told me that this too shall pass, or every cloud has a silver lining. She never told me to keep that stupid stiff upper lip, nor did she sing “Tomorrow” to me.

She never told me it wasn’t that bad; she agreed that it was indeed that bad. It was that bad for her too. She let my feelings stand without trying to talk me out of them.

If the caregiver or cared-for wants to lob verbal raw eggs at the wall of frustration, the artful helper tells him/her to lob away. Let the egg drool harden and the eggshells crackle underfoot. The important thing is that feelings, not the caregivers or cared-fors, crash against that wall. The artful helper stands by with more eggs.

--Maureen O'Hern

Check back tomorrow for The Art of Helping #4: Leaving the one-way message