When Carolita Johnson became a live-in caretaker for her 87-year-old mother, reimagining this new life as a multi-year writing residency helped her make peace with a difficult living arrangement.
Wow! This is inspirational for me. I am 67 living with my 89 year old mother as her caretaker for 3 1/2 years now. Thanks to a recent divorce I was able to move to a new state, buy my own place and move her in with me. She is not as bad as Carolita''s mother, but we have never had a good relationship. My sister had been caring for her for years and, like Carolita, it was my turn. I have been struggling with creating the time and energy to write, and particularly to write about this new living arrangement. (See my substack: Aging in Place). But I think Carolita can inspire me to keep up the struggle and maybe move forward. I fear how much longer my mother might live, but I will keep writing. So glad to hear of someone else making this work. Stay strong Carolita!
Beautifully written. You are an amazing human being to be doing this.
Your story made me feel lucky. I have spent wonderful times a lot of different artists' colonies), and living with my 97yo father doesn't seem like a residency. But he is a great guy and I'm not his caretaker but his helper and friend. He drives, prepares his own meals, goes to the doctor by himself, reads newspapers daily and four or five books a week, goes shopping, etc. Most of all he is a little grouchy but mostly pleasant and interesting to talk to and will listen to the problems of me and my siblings and keeps giving us twenty-dollar bills. He is a role model in case I get to be super-old. (I am already old.)
I could not live with a parent like your mother (if she were my mother, she'd be in a nursing home so fast her head would spin) and I admire you enormously.
Wow. I’m a family therapist and the daughter of a narcissistic mother. So I can say with personal and professional experience that you are a beacon of strength and resilience. Bravo for finding teachers and mentors in various forms. I am in awe of how you used your hard won wisdom and creativity to turn a potentially hazardous situation into an opportunity. Your writing is moving, funny, and very much crafted - no formal training needed. Thank you for sharing, Carolita.
“I probably wouldn’t have had to do that at Yaddo.” Wonderful. I can’t even imagine the inner strength it takes to do this. If I had been in her position, I am sure that my next residency would have been in the penitentiary, serving a murder sentence. Great writing!
Your essay has me looking at my own situation to consider reframing it- maybe feeling stuck is okay- I can work with it; and make some lemonade instead of a mountain!
As a caregiver of a different sort, I absolutely relate to the mind-bending it takes to do this work. Sometimes it sure feels like a job I would never have applied for (nor even been seen as a suitable candidate) but here it is. Reframing this life as a residency seems like a perfect way to go.
And I know of monster-mothers like yours, and I hope you continue to stay safe.
I have such mixed feelings about this essay and the writer's experiences. First, gratitude that people agree to take care of their often difficult parents and then write about it so beautifully. Second, as always, annoyance that writers cannot make a decent living doing what they do. And third, constantly, my concern that women put off ensuring their own financial security by taking care of others. Women live longer than men, in general, and often take on the unpaid labor associated with families. They then end up at 58, worrying about how to buy groceries.
Funny, sad, tragic, horrifying and real - I love reading writing that is so brutally honest. Mental health is mostly ignored in our culture and the increasing realities of caring for elders with mental health issues is all but swept under the rug. Dementia seems acceptable to address and concern for care providers is discussed. But caring for an elder who is emotionally and mentally damaged/troubled offers an entirely different set of necessary parameters for self-care. Carolita's solution to treat it as a residency is brilliant.
Awe-inspiring feats of fortitude and caregiving as identity, reconciliation, and rebellious creativity. Your writing is a tornado (love that part) of inspiration.
As the daughter of another monstrous mother, I salute you! I think the title of my recent Substack piece “It’s easier to love my mother now she’s dead” perhaps gives a clue… I am awed at your mental and emotional resilience and cunning reframing of this “retreat” and can’t wait to read that novel! Pirates! Parrots! And monsters… xx
“Not to mention all the little invisible things I did and continue to do daily, which somehow take all day – ‘invisible’ because they would only become evident if I didn’t do them.”
Thank you for writing this. I’ve dealt with a similar experience, and this essay makes me feel seen.
Oh, this is wonderful reading! I am sitting in bed at my parents' house, both are elderly frail and with varying levels of dementia. My father came out of their bedroom on Sunday afternoon and said, "What am I supposed to do?" searching for something to do even though he forgets what he is doing a few seconds later. He tries very hard to remember. My mother is a difficult unpleasant woman who does not try very hard and long ago gave up any thoughts of agency. As missionaries, they "out-sourced" their parenting when I was six to a boarding school so they could focus on "saving" souls. I am also using the time here, when they take their afternoon nap, when they are reading their devotional literature after breakfast, as a sort of writing residency. On Sunday afternoon I was doing research about schistosomiasis (bilharzia) and trying to find out if it was in Lake Babogaya also known as Lake Bishoftu Guda or Lake Pawlo (or Paulo) now as we swam in the lake when I was a child. There's time for a walk after dinner in the evenings. It's not forever and I took this on to manage my feelings about my upbringing and some of the other cruel things they've done since then (their religion seems to have resulted in their being judgemental and cruel). The alternative would be residential care for them which I wouldn't want for anyone.
thank you, Sari, and everybody.
Wow! This is inspirational for me. I am 67 living with my 89 year old mother as her caretaker for 3 1/2 years now. Thanks to a recent divorce I was able to move to a new state, buy my own place and move her in with me. She is not as bad as Carolita''s mother, but we have never had a good relationship. My sister had been caring for her for years and, like Carolita, it was my turn. I have been struggling with creating the time and energy to write, and particularly to write about this new living arrangement. (See my substack: Aging in Place). But I think Carolita can inspire me to keep up the struggle and maybe move forward. I fear how much longer my mother might live, but I will keep writing. So glad to hear of someone else making this work. Stay strong Carolita!
Damn! Mad respect to this author for entering the dragon of caregiver of a toxic parent...and writing so well about it.
Beautifully written. You are an amazing human being to be doing this.
Your story made me feel lucky. I have spent wonderful times a lot of different artists' colonies), and living with my 97yo father doesn't seem like a residency. But he is a great guy and I'm not his caretaker but his helper and friend. He drives, prepares his own meals, goes to the doctor by himself, reads newspapers daily and four or five books a week, goes shopping, etc. Most of all he is a little grouchy but mostly pleasant and interesting to talk to and will listen to the problems of me and my siblings and keeps giving us twenty-dollar bills. He is a role model in case I get to be super-old. (I am already old.)
I could not live with a parent like your mother (if she were my mother, she'd be in a nursing home so fast her head would spin) and I admire you enormously.
Wow. I’m a family therapist and the daughter of a narcissistic mother. So I can say with personal and professional experience that you are a beacon of strength and resilience. Bravo for finding teachers and mentors in various forms. I am in awe of how you used your hard won wisdom and creativity to turn a potentially hazardous situation into an opportunity. Your writing is moving, funny, and very much crafted - no formal training needed. Thank you for sharing, Carolita.
“I probably wouldn’t have had to do that at Yaddo.” Wonderful. I can’t even imagine the inner strength it takes to do this. If I had been in her position, I am sure that my next residency would have been in the penitentiary, serving a murder sentence. Great writing!
Brilliant, searing, devastating, hilarious
Your essay has me looking at my own situation to consider reframing it- maybe feeling stuck is okay- I can work with it; and make some lemonade instead of a mountain!
As a caregiver of a different sort, I absolutely relate to the mind-bending it takes to do this work. Sometimes it sure feels like a job I would never have applied for (nor even been seen as a suitable candidate) but here it is. Reframing this life as a residency seems like a perfect way to go.
And I know of monster-mothers like yours, and I hope you continue to stay safe.
When a writer feels like a confiding friend...you've entirely won me over. Can't wait to find your cartoons.
I have such mixed feelings about this essay and the writer's experiences. First, gratitude that people agree to take care of their often difficult parents and then write about it so beautifully. Second, as always, annoyance that writers cannot make a decent living doing what they do. And third, constantly, my concern that women put off ensuring their own financial security by taking care of others. Women live longer than men, in general, and often take on the unpaid labor associated with families. They then end up at 58, worrying about how to buy groceries.
Funny, sad, tragic, horrifying and real - I love reading writing that is so brutally honest. Mental health is mostly ignored in our culture and the increasing realities of caring for elders with mental health issues is all but swept under the rug. Dementia seems acceptable to address and concern for care providers is discussed. But caring for an elder who is emotionally and mentally damaged/troubled offers an entirely different set of necessary parameters for self-care. Carolita's solution to treat it as a residency is brilliant.
Awe-inspiring feats of fortitude and caregiving as identity, reconciliation, and rebellious creativity. Your writing is a tornado (love that part) of inspiration.
As the daughter of another monstrous mother, I salute you! I think the title of my recent Substack piece “It’s easier to love my mother now she’s dead” perhaps gives a clue… I am awed at your mental and emotional resilience and cunning reframing of this “retreat” and can’t wait to read that novel! Pirates! Parrots! And monsters… xx
“Not to mention all the little invisible things I did and continue to do daily, which somehow take all day – ‘invisible’ because they would only become evident if I didn’t do them.”
Thank you for writing this. I’ve dealt with a similar experience, and this essay makes me feel seen.
Oh, this is wonderful reading! I am sitting in bed at my parents' house, both are elderly frail and with varying levels of dementia. My father came out of their bedroom on Sunday afternoon and said, "What am I supposed to do?" searching for something to do even though he forgets what he is doing a few seconds later. He tries very hard to remember. My mother is a difficult unpleasant woman who does not try very hard and long ago gave up any thoughts of agency. As missionaries, they "out-sourced" their parenting when I was six to a boarding school so they could focus on "saving" souls. I am also using the time here, when they take their afternoon nap, when they are reading their devotional literature after breakfast, as a sort of writing residency. On Sunday afternoon I was doing research about schistosomiasis (bilharzia) and trying to find out if it was in Lake Babogaya also known as Lake Bishoftu Guda or Lake Pawlo (or Paulo) now as we swam in the lake when I was a child. There's time for a walk after dinner in the evenings. It's not forever and I took this on to manage my feelings about my upbringing and some of the other cruel things they've done since then (their religion seems to have resulted in their being judgemental and cruel). The alternative would be residential care for them which I wouldn't want for anyone.