Marianne Talbot In mum's home there's a book for recording arrivals and departures. I am sometimes shocked to see it's two or three days since I visited mum.
You might ask why this should bother me: mum neither knows nor cares whether I visit. She can be sublimely indifferent to my presence, or even make it clear that she'd rather I wasn't there. So why should I feel guilty for missing a few days?
Interesting question that. In fact the whole question of guilt and caring is interesting. Because of my proximity, I am the only person to visit mum regularly. How come the one that does most visiting feels the most guilt?
But I feel less guilt now than I did when mum lived with me. Then I felt constantly guilty. Probably because I was constantly aware of everything I wasn't doing.
Why, though, couldn't I have banished the guilt by reminding myself of what I was doing? Again why should the one who does the most also feel the most guilt?
This guilt haunts nearly every carer. As a carer you never feel you are doing enough. And however serene you appear you cannot but be guiltily aware of the ever-present fear you might explode.
It comes back to responsibility. If you are a carer, then unless you are able to convince yourself you are doing everything you can, you will feel guilt. But who can take responsibility for the health and happiness of another human being, and really convince themselves they're doing everything they can?
I gather it's the same with children. But children soon start taking responsibility for themselves. Piglets* usually go the other way.
But which comes first - the guilt or the caring? Did I take on responsibility for mum because I felt guilty? Or did I feel guilty because I had on taken responsibility for mum?
For me it was the former. So the guilt was there first and can't have been caused by taking on responsibility for mum. Or at least not by the decision formally to take on responsibility for mum (one of the few mum-related things for which I feel no guilt at all!)
It seems to me that the guilt that is so much a part of being a carer comes back to love. If you love someone who becomes unable to care for themselves then you will feel responsible for them, whether or not you formally take on responsibility for them. Guilt comes with that sense of responsibility.
Tough, isn't it?
But when you're next overwhelmed with guilt, try congratulating yourself on your capacity for love, and remember what you are doing, instead of beating yourself up for everything else.
*Person to whom I give Love and Endless Therapy, see Hugh Marriott's wonderful book The Selfish Pig's Guide to Caring.