The Other Side of Acceptance: Caregiving, Family Resentment, and the Weight of Doing It All

In my last blog post, I wrote about acceptance. Specifically, the difficult conversation I had with Mom about her current situation, her health, and the possibility of moving into assisted living.

But there's another side of that coin.

Resentment.

And I realized today that I feel some resentment toward Mom, caregiving, and the rest of the family.

Let me explain.

How did I become the person doing all this?

Let's look at the circumstances.

I'm not currently working. I'm close by. I'm living in my parents' home. I have time available, at least when I'm not recovering from dialysis or dealing with my own medical issues.

My kids live in other states. I don't have a wife (there is an Airica, though). And somehow, this enormous responsibility of helping Mom has become something I've taken on.

Here's the important distinction: I chose this.

Nobody forced me. Nobody coerced me. Nobody held a meeting and assigned me the job of family caregiver.

I decided to visit Mom. I decided to help with the assisted living search. I decided to get involved with the financial arrangements, the appointments, the questions, the concerns, and all the other things that come with being a caregiver.

I made that decision.

But making the decision doesn't mean it never gets difficult. It doesn't mean I won't get tired, frustrated, or resentful.

And today, I felt quite a bit of resentment.

The clothes conversation

After visiting Mom and having the difficult conversation I wrote about in my previous post, I asked her if there was anything I could bring her.

She asked me to bring some clothes.

That seemed simple enough.

But I remembered that my brother and sister-in-law had said they were going to get her clothes and drop them off Saturday or Sunday. I wanted to make sure Mom wasn't confused about whether they had already visited or brought anything.

So I got in the car and texted them both.

Me: "Did you drop off clothes?"

Answer: "No, not yet"

Me: "Are you dropping off clothes today?"

Answer: "No, we r in Myrtle beach"

Fantastic.

You mentioned yesterday that you were getting clothes and would be dropping them off. Now you're in Myrtle Beach, about two hours away.

And that's when the resentment started bubbling up.

The list running through my head

I could feel the thoughts piling up:

• You said you were getting her clothes.

• You said you would drop them off.

• You can't visit her for more than an hour a day?

• Why did you need to go to Myrtle Beach today?

• What happened to the clothes?

• Am I the only one who is supposed to make sure everything gets done?

And that wasn't even the whole list.

There's also a brother in Colorado who said he’d come out to visit and help. That hasn't happened either.

Meanwhile, I'm here. I'm visiting. I'm asking questions. I'm looking at assisted living facilities. I'm trying to work through the financial arrangements. I'm dealing with the day-to-day conversations and complaints.

And I'm also trying to manage my own life and health.

I know everyone has their own schedules, responsibilities, and circumstances. I don't know everything that went into their decision to go to Myrtle Beach. But when someone says they'll do something and then doesn't, it's frustrating.

Especially when the responsibility keeps landing in the same place.

The resentment isn't really about a bag of clothes

Let's be clear. This isn't really about the clothes.

The clothes are just the latest example of something much bigger.

It's about expectations, commitments, and the feeling that the responsibility of caring for Mom is unevenly distributed.

I don't expect everyone to drop everything and spend every day at the facility. I understand that people have jobs, families, obligations, and lives of their own.

But there's a difference between having a busy life and saying you’ll do something and not following through.

And there's a difference between visiting Mom and actually helping with the responsibilities that come with caring for her.

Sometimes a visit is just a visit. Sometimes caregiving means making phone calls, arranging things, researching options, following up, handling finances, and managing the details nobody necessarily sees.

Those details add up.

And when you're the person handling most of them, it can feel pretty lonely.

I chose this, so what am I resentful about?

This is where I have to look at myself.

I chose to take on this role. I wasn't assigned it. I didn't have to be the person who visits, researches, coordinates, and tries to make things happen.

But I did.

Does that mean I have no right to feel frustrated when other family members don't follow through? No.

Does it mean I should expect everyone else to contribute in the same way I do? Probably not.

And does it mean I should keep score? That's where I need to be careful.

Resentment can become a dangerous thing. It can take a legitimate frustration and turn it into something that consumes far more energy than the original problem deserves.

I can spend the rest of the evening replaying the Myrtle Beach conversation, thinking about the clothes, the missed visits, and the brother in Colorado.

Or I can acknowledge that I'm frustrated, recognize what I can and cannot control, and decide what I’ll do next.

Time for another dose of acceptance

I wrote about acceptance in my previous post. Today, I realized I need to practice it myself.

I need to accept that my siblings may not participate the way I would like them to.

I need to accept that people make commitments and sometimes don't follow through.

I need to accept that I cannot make other people prioritize something the way I prioritize it.

And I need to accept that choosing to be Mom's caregiver doesn't mean I have to do everything without boundaries.

I can ask for help. I can communicate what needs to be done. I can be clear about what I can handle. And I can stop assuming that everyone else will approach this responsibility the way I do.

Most importantly, I need to be careful not to let resentment drive my decisions.

I want to help Mom because I chose to help Mom. I don't want to do it while carrying around a running list of everything everyone else hasn't done.

That's easier said than done, especially on days like today.

Acceptance doesn't mean pretending everything is fine

I can accept that my brother and sister-in-law went to Myrtle Beach. I can accept that my brother in Colorado hasn't made the trip yet. I can accept that my family may not show up in the way I hoped.

But acceptance doesn't mean I have to pretend that it doesn't bother me.

It doesn't mean I can't talk about expectations. It doesn't mean I can't ask people to follow through. And it certainly doesn't mean I have to take on every responsibility simply because I'm nearby.

I have my own health to manage. I have dialysis. I have recovery. I have relationships and a life outside the skilled nursing facility.

I need to remember that, too.

So today, after writing about acceptance, I discovered something else I need to work on.

Resentment.

And apparently, I need another helping of acceptance.

Maybe a large one.

Stay tuned. This caregiving journey continues, and I'm learning just as much about myself as I am about helping Mom.