The Baked Cake

Cooking was not my forte. Yet, there were a lot of ingredients to this cake.

An enmeshed mother-daughter relationship with my mother? Check.

A significant health crisis, impacting my elderly mother? Check.

A significant health crisis, impacting me? Check.

Universal truths of humanity I cannot avoid? Check.

Mom was a “Baked Cake,” especially within my caregiving experience of her.

In 2009, my mother had a stroke. Now, she resides in a care facility. Mom can no longer walk without a walker, spending most of her time in her wheelchair.

And since then, I have been her health care agent. I have attended appointments, care conferences and have made decisions as that advocate. She has often questioned and challenged me, asserting I’m overreacting and being “silly” at my attempts to keep her safe and healthy.

And like many caregivers to their elderly parents, I have been stressed in a kind of no-win situation way. It has been within this context, I have learned much about her, myself, our dynamic and what I can and cannot control.

The Baked Cake: It’s Not About You:

Information-intel- is the focus of this first caregiving learning lab. There’s stuff that has absolutely everything to do with the elderly person: their physical, emotional and mental needs, for example, and nothing to do with you and me!

In the years since my mother’s stroke, I have discovered some startling revelations. Some of this information was purposely withheld from me; some of it was withheld because of sheer ignorance.

But, regardless of the origins, those revelations still created “a-ha” moments.

Without getting into the personal specifics, much of what I learned “after the fact” about Mom centered around her fear and shame-based choices. And that has nothing to do with me.

And, because she is now at this stage of life, meaning, being physically affected by her age, her stroke and her corresponding health issues, her “baked cake” condition concludes that expecting change, insight or some personal overhaul from her is, therefore, unrealistic.

Many of us caregivers can often find ourselves in this painful reality. Ships have sailed, opportunities have passed by. Now what?

The Baked Cake: It IS About You:

Congratulations, we have arrived at the next phase of “Baked Cake” caregiving: our own personal reflection. How do these caregiving challenges- and, more importantly, how does this vulnerable person we care for- affect us?

It’s not a self-indulgent concept to dismiss.

Beyond sentimentality, love, and, of course, being spiritually in-tune with our Creator, we also need to get real. Not from a weaponizing standpoint, but from a truth perspective. And truth can be ugly.

I’ve learned some unsettling truth in recent years, be it my mother’s backstory or simple health facts. I’ve needed to address its impact on me. There’s been much focus on my mother’s status as being a “vulnerable adult.” I, also, need to concede I am a flesh-and-blood mortal.

The Baked Cake: You Must Take Care of Yourself:

Mortality? Vulnerability? Rubber, may I introduce you to some screaming road?

Yes, we may passively assent to taking care of ourselves. But, in practice?

Well, that’s trickier, isn’t it?

Indeed, for years, I convinced myself that Mom was the fragile one. I was healthy enough to withstand the rigors of this caregiving thing.

And then, in July of 2017, I received my Breast cancer diagnosis.

Since then, life has profoundly changed. And part of that includes my mother.

Diagnosis, treatment and my foray into “survivorship” have all demanded I change how I relate to her and how involved I am with her.

If I refuse to make those changes, it could severely impact my health; I could die.

Many of us caregivers, especially us female caregivers, are shamed mercilessly if we do not expend all of ourselves for someone else, like our parents. Refusing to do just that, in fact, can get us labeled as the “bad daughter.” No one wants that moniker.

But, again, reality. Cancer. That is a formidable opponent. Divine healing is wonderful, but it does not negate the natural mandate of Mark 12:31:

“…Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself...”

We are instructed to take care of our temples, our vessels. We are, yes, to “love one another,” but love them as we love ourselves.

Let’s be brutally honest here. In the caregiving context, if we demonstrated the kind of love to “our neighbor” that we show ourselves, social services and the police would be called.

That would be considered abuse. We wouldn’t dream of treating someone so shabbily. So why is it excusable to mistreat ourselves that way?

Demanding that nothing slow down or change for us, in the face of a life-threatening diagnosis, all our own?

Come on. That is insanity. It’s not scripturally sound, either.

We need to take our lives into consideration: our health conditions, our marriages, our children, our well-being. Prioritizing those needs means changing our caregiving choices. And that is not evil. It is being a good steward of what is entrusted to us instead.

So, yes, my involvement with my mother has radically changed. My body and my own needs have changed.

I must respond accordingly.

The Baked Cake: You Can Never Explain It Enough:

Hey, guess what? Mom doesn’t like these changes. And she certainly doesn’t want to hear me tell her “no.”

The next “Baked Cake” Lesson? Boundaries!

Here’s a dirty little secret: most of us, within our family dynamics, have unhealthy, sometimes even, nonexistent boundaries. This creates toxicity, sooner or later.

I tried, for years, to work on my issues, through prayer, community, therapy. Likewise, I took a stab at healthier boundaries. Those efforts did not go over well with my increasingly needy, vulnerable adult of a mother. My “no’s” were viewed as ungrateful. How dare I?

And then came my diagnosis. I could no longer just “will” myself into performance. Physically, everything changed.

Mom hates that reality. In the early days of my diagnosis, I earnestly tried to reason with her about these “no’s.” She wasn’t getting it. Her inability, denial, fears and unwillingness all contributed to her negative response. After exhausting myself repeatedly, I learned and applied a Twelve-Step recovery principle, “JADE.” And it compliments Mom’s “Baked Cake.”

“JADE:” Justify, Argue, Defend, Explain. Simply stated: don’t subject yourself to situations in which you feel manipulated to do those things. Mom’s cognitive ability has deteriorated over the years. She has more difficulty understanding things, especially if they are upsetting. And going around the same mountain was physically and emotionally taxing to me.

I learned, via my diagnosis and simultaneous caregiving, that I can never provide a “good enough” explanation for telling my mother “no,” therefore, displeasing her. She is not getting it, for whatever reason. And so, to take better care of myself (and her), I need to accept “what is,” rather than “what if.”

The Baked Cake: The Wisdom Ingredient:

See yourself here, in any of this?

You may not be battling a life-threatening disease, but you’re challenged, all the same, with your own loved one and circumstances, aren’t you?

Sooner or later, we all encounter the “Baked Cake” of life, that, seemingly, immovable person we love and care for. How will we respond?

Radical acceptance can be key. There are things we’ll never understand. There are explanations we’ll never have access to. Life and people will confront and break our hearts.

As finite human beings, we have limitations. We need help. Do we ask for that help?

As we deal with this “Baked Cake” experience, therefore, may we learn the healing ingredients we need to both survive and thrive.

Copyright © 2020 by Sheryle Cruse