Hi Care Bears,
Here we go again. About five years back, I had a caregiver whose meth addiction ended our relationship. The last time I saw her, she was literally falling asleep, while talking to me, as she waited for her ride outside my building. And I haven’t seen her since.
I can’t quite explain what it’s like to watch your caregiver crumble like that. Maybe some of you know, in your own way. Maybe it was a mother or father, an older sibling, a babysitter when you were young. For me, as a grown-ass woman, it’s a person who helps me function as a human being, so that I can be and give my best self for the rest of my day. Someone, who minutes ago was helping me shit, bathe, and get dressed. And now, they’re hitting a wall right in front of me. It’s heartbreaking, maddening, and terrifying, all at once.
While I’m thinking, ‘fuck, what happens to you now?’ I’m also thinking, ‘fuck, what happens to me now? Who’s going to replace this person? Is this really my life?’
It feels like I'm hovering just above reality in some alternate universe. I don’t know what happens next, but I guess I’ll figure it out. I’m not always in this odd state of faith that everything will be ok, but I’m grateful for it. For some reason it’s within the craziest moments that time slows down just enough to survive the chaos.
Saturday, we hosted a birthday party for Freya and me, but mostly for Freya. Oddly, we have the same birthday. We’re thirty years apart. Well, thirty years and 27 minutes to be exact.
But that morning, around 8:39, as Elaine prepared for the birthday party, suspected drug-using caregiver #2 (let’s call her Shelly from here on out. I don’t know why, sorry if your name is Shelly, it was literally the first name that came to mind) still hadn’t showed up for her 8:00 shift. I called Elaine and we decided she would start in hopes that Shelly could finish. But I had a bad feeling, so I called Shelly and sure enough, she wasn’t coming at all. So, Elaine and I just looked at each other and said, ‘all right, let’s do this shit.’
We hauled ass. We got me ready (I borrowed her cardigan), then got her ready (I gave her a little makeover and lent her my earrings and a very flattering button-up) and made sure the snacks were out and the decorations were up, all in record time. Fuckin teamwork.
As the hours went by, I could feel it more and more deeply—I wouldn’t be hearing from Shelly. She wasn’t coming, and I certainly wasn’t going to cling onto any false notions that she might. I don’t have time for hope sometimes. Sometimes, hope is a fucking waste of time and energy. And I felt it in my gut—onward without her.
I didn’t hear from her until Monday.
I have to say that I think my heart both broke and expanded these last few days. I feel exhausted, confused, uncertain, but held.
It’s such a weird place to be—in this state of relief that I know someone, Elaine, will have my back, but also in a state of guilt, feeling like a burden, and just disappointed in the whole system that feeds this unhealthy cycle. A cycle and a system in which people aren’t getting what they need, people aren’t getting paid enough, and people aren’t being cared for enough, supported enough. None of it is enough.
The whole system serves as a barometer for how little this country cares about our care workers and our disabled and elder population. (I try not to use the term elderly anymore. They are our elders and deserve our respect)
The strange part is that Elaine and I, amidst our collective surrender, had the best fuckin’ day together. We leaned in, leaned on each other, and laughed our way through it.
Per the advice of a new kanaka friend, we drove to the Hilton Waikoloa Resort, on the sunny side of the island, to treat ourselves. The Hilton is also a legit museum with ancient Asian and Hawaiian artifacts all over the hotel, it was crrraaaazyyyyy. Their beach was so peaceful, it was a perfect little lagoon with a waterfall and the ocean on the other side. We saw some seals, ate chocolate cake and poke, went swimming (I FINALLY got in the ocean!) and then watched the sunset over the Pacific before we drove back with a sleepy puppy in my lap. Not too shabby for this crew.
Damn the man. Fuck the system. We live—we find pleasure, we rest, we unite—to fight another day. To care for each other in resistance and in love.
Ways I Embody Peace Amidst Chaos
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