Ambition and the Caregiving Dilemma

Culturally, women are the caregivers. As children, we [women] are taught to care for our siblings. Many of us babysat the neighbor’s kids. We fed dogs, cats, and hamsters when our friends were out of town. We watched out for roommates in college as young adults. 

As mothers, we carry the burden of being the primary caregivers to our children. As our own parents get older, the burden falls on us to ease their troubles. We carry the weight of housekeeping and emotional labor. 

I know the birthdate of every child I raised, my husband’s social security number, the location of our passports, and who in the family needs what booster shot. I know how much milk is left in the fridge when the laundry needs to be done, that we need to buy new towels, whose name we have for my in-law’s gift exchange, and what we are going to get them. And most of us carry similar lists (multiplied by 1000) whether we want to or not. 

Because we are assigned caregiving by our culture our husbands, brothers, fathers, and even mothers, sisters and friends, expect us to fill this role. 

It is a heavy burden. 

And it is mixed with the truth that for many of us, we like much of the caregiving.

I like making dinner. I like planning family trips. I like being the support to my adult children, it makes me so happy when they call. I like hosting family gatherings. I loved visiting and caring for my grandmother before she passed. I like taking a meal to a sick friend. I like knowing the people I love feel loved and cared for. 

But it is a heavy burden. 

Because with all of the pieces I do like, there are so many pieces I’m not good at. There are pieces I didn’t sign up for, and that take me away from other things in my life that I want to be doing. 

Because the burden is heavy, I begin to resent the people I love. I resent my husband for not doing his share. I resent my children for needing me. I resent other men in my life who have the luxury of spending an entire Saturday on a golf course (can you imagine?!). I resented my grandmother for needing me when I was spread too thin. I love them all and don’t want to resent them but I did and sometimes I still do. 

And that resentment is exacerbated by any ambition I feel or have felt. And the resentment is followed very quickly by guilt and then shame. Because how selfish am I that my ambition, whatever that looks like, should take priority over the needs and comfort of those my culture has demanded I care for? Agh.

Logically I know this is not healthy or fair. But knowing is not enough to remove the heavy burden I feel. Each woman likely feels bits of this. Some feel mountains of it. 

And sister, it is not easy. 

With age, I am learning healthy boundaries. Sometimes I say “no.” I expect others to pitch in. I chase my dreams. I run out of milk. I ask for help and expect it. I don’t allow myself to take the full burden. There are elements of caregiving that will always be on my shoulders. But the things that can be delegated, shared, paid for, or left behind are delegated, shared, paid for, and left behind. 

Because my life, my ambition, my heart, and my mind are as important as the people in my life that I am caring for. And I am going to put on my oxygen mask first to ensure that I am alive and available to put on the oxygen masks of the people in my life that I love and care for.