It's been on my mind lately.

Dealing with the anticipation of grief is almost as difficult as dealing with the grief itself once it comes.

Some people might read that and think ‘why anticipate grief if you know it’s coming anyway?’ 

Can you really help it?  Yes, maybe it seems like you’re compounding the grief unnecessarily- it brings to mind the argument that worrying about something doesn’t make it come any faster, but it can give you ulcers.

I’m a caregiver.  It’s more than just my job.  According to my mother, I’m patient and compassionate and it’s a good fit for me.  I think she sees me as being better than I actually am, but I’m not complaining.  It’s nice when people think you’re better than you are.  At least with me, it makes me want to be better than I am.

Unfortunately, being a caregiver comes with certain risks.  Not the risks you might think.  Aside from the occasional injury from trying to lift too much at odd angles, most of the risks of my job are emotional and mental.  It’s almost impossible to avoid developing close relationships with clients, especially when you spend all your time at work with only one or two clients.  Since I work long shifts with the same client, I can’t stop myself from falling in love.

The first time I had a client pass away, it devastated me.  I was useless for two days afterwards (I literally slept all day following her death at my parents’ house and then finally made it home- my mother demanded I call her when I got there just to make sure I was okay), and almost numb for the following week (I couldn’t even go to the funeral by myself; my parents came with me and we stayed a grand total of seven minutes- long enough to hug my client’s ‘girl’ and deliver my condolences to the children).

I remember how much that hurt.  I remember how it felt, to lose someone who had been almost completely the center of my life for more than a year.  My life went on- it couldn’t not, even I know that.  But I still miss her.  On the anniversary of her death, I was a wreck.  I still miss her, still think about her.

Now, I’m observing her later condition in a client I have now, and the memory of those feelings comes rushing back to me, prodding me with the dread of what will happen when she passes.  When you go through something like that once, it’s painful enough.  I’m not even thirty, and this is what I’ve chosen to do with my life.  I have my life to look forward to repeating this experience of loss over and over again.

I’ve been wondering lately if I might be something of a masochist.  After all, there has to be something wrong with someone who actually chooses to experience such deep emotional pain over and over throughout their life.

But the thing is…I really wouldn’t trade the good times, the relationships I form with my clients- and even, by extension, my clients’ families- for anything, not even the pain of loss and grief.