the caretaker

I've been thinking lately about another theme that comes up in my job from time to time. It's usually from those in some sort of crisis or another, and the story usually goes something like: when I met my wife/husband/partner, they seemed great, but then they started drinking. And now they yell and scream, threaten suicide if I were ever to leave them, even get aggressive.

These individuals typically were the caretakers growing up, kids who were in charge of taking care of someone's feelings -- or who tried desparately to "make everything OK." And often the current difficulty is a perpetuation of that pattern: of trying to manage things for someone, unwittingly enabling the negative behavior.

The interesting thing is that my job becomes, in part, telling them that they're right to be upset. That their pain and discomfort is telling them something -- that they can't (and shouldn't) try to be responsible for their partner's anger or drinking or aggression. That they have right to expect that their partner step up to the plate, be responsible for themselves, be more of a full partner emotionally.

It's always interesting and somewhat sad when I come across people in these kinds of situations, in part because those in the "caregiver" role are almost always some of the nicest, kindest, most decent folk you could ever want to meet.

In a sense, they're too nice. I sometimes wonder if my advice to them might come across as asking them to be selfish, to be mean. Sometimes I get this look from them, like they're saying "...whaddya mean 'turn the other cheek' isn't always for the best?"

My hope for them is that they can learn to to balance their love for others with a respect for themselves, that they can learn "love" doesn't always mean giving someone what they want. I pray that they come to see how "love" in its deepest sense can only happen when they're being genuine and real, open and honest about how they really feel, rather than hiding behind some wall of "being nice."