In The Beginning

It has been too many years since I’d sat at a desk in a classroom, I thought while looking through the Adult Community Class Winter Schedule. My 2013 goal was to write a memoir about our experience surviving traumatic brain injury (TBI). It had been a story I wanted to write for twenty-two years, but didn’t know how to go about it. I knew I needed knowledge and help with this goal, so I was especially interested by the “Writing Class” listed on the schedule. I didn’t know how I’d make time for this class between my work and caregiving demands, but I signed up for it anyway.

I recognized the familiar echoing taps of my shoes as I rushed down the large empty hallway of Indian Hills Middle School looking for the classroom.  It should have only been a ten minute drive, but it took me longer because I’d never been there before and it was hidden in a subdivision unknown to me. I opened the closed door, late as usual and unsure of what I’d gotten myself into. As I hurried to find the closest chair, the teacher, Brenda Bensch, smiled and welcomed me to the class.

Embarrassed by my tardiness, I apologized as she handed me the outline for the next several weeks. Although I wasn’t getting a grade or any kind of credit for the class, I wanted to do my best. I felt overwhelmed by the schedule. How would I fit writing on top of all my other responsibilities? I stayed focused on my goal and stuck with it.

Not the most flattering picture of me, but the only one I have with my writing teacher, Brenda Bench (in the red) and favorite classmate, Susan Knight (in the blue).

Not the most flattering picture of me, but the only one I have with my writing teacher, Brenda Bensch (in the red) and my favorite classmate, Susan Knight.

That class and the next one in the spring influenced my life for the better and I have Brenda Bensch to thank for it. Some of her words of encouragement ring in my ears to this day. She taught if you want to be better at writing, you have to practice, just like anything else you do.  “Start a blog; write every day or at least three times a week.”  In my mind, I scoffed at the suggestion. There is no way I could make time to do that. I just want to focus on my book.  The more I wrote and had my chapters critiqued, the more I realized the importance of practice.

That summer Mark was hospitalized three times for blood clots. He got really weak so we spent twenty-one days at Rocky Mountain Care Center. While we were there, Mark’s occupational therapist, Jessica, suggested I start a caregiver’s support group. I thought, Where would I find time to do that? Jessica urged me by expressing the need, which she observed from other personal caregivers. “Your experience could be valuable to them.”

“Maybe I could start an online support group which could encourage and help other caregivers in the comfort of their own home and whenever it’s convenient for them.” Jessica loved the idea and just about every day for the duration of our stay she encouraged me to do it.

I work on a computer daily, but had no experience online. How do I create a website which could encourage caregivers? My talented daughter, Katie, designed Uniting Caregivers and taught me how to use it. I’m so grateful for her skills and patience with me in this endeavor.

My past writing experience has mostly been on a business level of composing demand letters for payments on delinquent accounts. Writing a book or an article is a very different style of writing and much more enjoyable I might add. I appreciate and I’m so grateful for my sister-in-law, Dianne, who proofreads every article and corrects my punctuation. She gives me the confidence I need to publish the article.

Today marks the second anniversary of Uniting Caregivers.  I’ve learned much about caregiving and caregivers through the story’s others have shared. Through my experience the past two years, I realize how therapeutic writing is. It has increased my understanding of others as well as myself. As I search for the right words to express my thoughts and feelings, I come to see things more clearly.

In the beginningEvery caregiver I see, I admire. They’re putting another’s need before their own wants. I feel their exhaustion and worry. I share their overwhelming responsibility and increased love for the person they care for. Without even exchanging words, I feel connected to them. I want to know about their story. How do they manage all they have to do? What keeps the love growing and resentment at bay? When would they have time to share their thoughts and feelings?

I’ve greatly benefited from this experience and appreciate you as a reader or a guest author. If you’d like to share your story, I’d love to publish it on Uniting Caregivers. It may seem like a daunting task, but I’ll help and support you any way needed. Your experience will be valuable to me and to others. We are in this together, encouraging and inspiring one another.

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