When Fixing Everything Isn't Yours to Do
Cuando Arreglarlo Todo No Te Corresponde
A student shares the experience of caring for an elderly parent after a serious injury, and the tension between compulsive problem-solving and surrendering to a larger unfolding.
When Fixing Everything Isn't Yours to Do
A student shares the experience of caring for an elderly parent after a serious injury, and the tension between compulsive problem-solving and surrendering to a larger unfolding.
I wanted to share something because it related to what was just discussed. I'm going through a real-life example of this with my dad. He had a bad fall a few weeks ago and broke his leg quite badly. He's eighty-one, and he went from being completely independent to needing round-the-clock care.
I noticed I was going into solution mode: what's next, what's next, what's next. There was genuinely stuff to do, because the hospital made mistakes and the care home made mistakes. But there was also this feeling of, "I'm not in charge here of his destiny."
The relief of not doing the heavy lifting
That was actually quite a relief. Someone once used the expression "you're not doing the heavy lifting," and I liked that. The heavy lifting is not up to you. Yes, there are little details I can handle and practical things to help him with. I also think prayer is really powerful, in terms of asking for guidance from beyond my personal mind. But ultimately, none of it is in my control.
I felt under a lot of pressure to get things resolved and to help. And I think there's also been a trigger for me: when my dad is not okay and angry, it feels unsafe, even though he's a frail old man now. I found myself wondering whether part of this was actually me trying to placate him so that I'd feel safer.
The back and forth between fixing and trusting
So it's been a real back and forth between feeling on edge, needing to fix everything, finding a solution as quickly as possible whenever something goes wrong, versus recognizing that there's a powerful force in charge of this whole story. And that recognition has actually brought a big sense of depth and richness to the whole experience. There have been some really beautiful moments. He's said deeper things than I've ever heard him say.
You also said something earlier about not knowing what the answer should be, and that reminded me: sometimes when we hit our armageddon, that's exactly when it was meant to happen, because it was meant to take someone deeper. Trying to make everything okay all the time potentially takes that away from someone. The idea that pain is bad is itself a story. Maybe there are lessons we don't understand, but maybe they have to happen for that person's journey. So I'm seeing the gifts of it as well, in terms of how profound this can be.
That's quite a journey. You said there were some beautiful moments. Do you recognize what happens, whether there's anything that shifts?