'Another Year? Not yet, thanks.'

Caregivers, those grieving or anyone not quite 'there yet'. I see you.

Hello, Dear Reader! A warm welcome to new Carer Mentor community members!

Thank you for spending some of your precious time and energy here.

I’m Victoria. You can read why I’m publishing Carer Mentor here: Who Started Carer Mentor and Why?

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'Another Year? Not yet, thanks.'

Are you feeling some reluctance about the new year? BIG HUGS. You’re not alone.

We’re a day from 2025, and this Betwixt time has been discombobulating.¹

May we be kind and compassionate and hold our thoughts and those of others with even more grace than usual. You don’t need to feel bad if you’re not feeling the ‘New Year’ vibe. You don’t need to start tomorrow with a big fanfare of changes or a list of intentions.

Everyone has a New Year’s process, traditions, and opinions. There is nothing right or wrong with how we choose to move from one year to the next. Some people are in learning mode, planning mode, or crystallising wonderful memories into meaningful moments to carry forward with them—core memories.

I remember what the ‘before caregiving’ me used to do—soak up books, ideas, and concepts, eager to improve myself, help my teams and kickstart a new year of …NEWness, excitement, magic, and possibilities.

There is still magic—I feel it. It’s just not in the NEWness; defining stretch goals or productivity targets. It’s more in the ‘human-messy-ness.’

Over the last couple of years, I’ve chosen to extend this ‘Between time’, this space of unknowing. I like to stand back, hold things lightly and make space for the inevitable uncertainty, sadness and sometimes fear.

As a caregiver, I’ve become accustomed to unpredictability. Susan David's Emotional Agility, thoughts, and concepts have been priceless. However, like many caregivers, I feel the continuous pressure to be primed and ready. After all, who else is there?

Everyone has the pressure and burden of responsibilities—no hierarchy of pain here. For caregivers, this unseen load² can be extra heavy at this time of year.

Mixing those feelings with grief³ and discombobulation is an obvious recipe for an emotional spiral. Sometimes, it’s further stewed with wine or iced with Christmas cake guilt. There is no judgment or opinion here—it’s a lived experience.

Right now, you may feel like you’re the only one who doesn’t want to review 2024 or plan for 2025. Perhaps friends are very sick, or you’ve experienced a loss (my heartfelt condolences). Perhaps you’ve just been through so much in 2024 that you’d prefer to zone into the ‘right here and now.’

I see you. Skip the New Year's resolutions, Intentions, and the Word of the Year if they make you cringe or raid the kitchen for carbs.

Step back and pause. You may be hurting. Even after the chocolate is gone, the hurt is still there.

It’s okay to need more space and time.

I save all the book recommendations and articles or jot down random thoughts in my notebook—I’m not in complete stasis. Still, I absolve myself from hasty action, knowing there’s more beneath the motions of our everyday routine.

A date on the calendar does not control our feelings and emotional state—in fact, it can even exacerbate them for caregivers! The date may change, but we can’t conveniently reschedule uncertainty, discomfort, or fear for another time.

A new year also brings envy and grief about what we can’t do—the parties and holidays that good friends go on [Please don’t tell me how I could do ‘xyz’, or offer hero-ing advice, or what you’d do to ‘make it work,’ this equates to well-intentioned but unhelpful advice (thank you Megan Devine)]

For many of us, December and January hold the anniversaries of a loved one’s passing.

Compounding losses can be felt before the brain deciphers the cause. Granting ourselves more time and empathy could enable more serenity before planning 2025.

So, I wanted to say,

What’s the messy feeling you’re feeling right now?

What kindness, self-compassionate thing can you do for yourself?

An extra cup of coffee, reaching out to that empathetic friend, or buying yourself some flowers? Share your thoughts if you feel you can.

Remember, we’re not trying to solve or resolve things for each other, but bear witness, empathise and stand alongside our Human-Messy-ness!

Journaling helps me reveal, realise and ponder. Music bypasses words and relieves my heart.

It’s good to know I have my notes from 2023, new prompts and tools, and I love Suleika Jaouad’s article and five lists, to dig into…just not quite yet.

My heart needs to be heard first.

I’ll share more over the following weeks: the books, videos, other resources and thoughts. These are things for any time, not just the New Year!

Please Remember to ‘❤️’ LIKE the article to guide others to Carer Mentor

I’m thankful for Brené Brown’s work, which has helped me navigate my feelings and vulnerabilities. I highly recommend reading ‘The Gifts of Imperfection.’

This Caregiver's 'Lens of Hope'

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If I could. A Poem by Victoria

Today’s caregiving, my context today, is VERY different from that of 2019.

From this vantage point of knowing what can be, what IS for others today, there is a mix of impotence, fear, worry and anxiety. Can we pause, be aware and listen to help each other?

If I could 
I'd translate the language of Carers,
take their pain and fear, the needs of their loved ones 
and like a stenographer translating with a machine
metabolise what I hear 
to meaningful support and actions 
Tailored to perfection, like a bespoke Savile Row suit,
chalked to fit, smoothed into the lines of THEIR existing well-worn routine.

If I could,
I'd point and draw a line on the ground 
to create boundaries
to exclude the stresses or strains of people and issues 
that try to punctuate the veil and disrupt the calm. Shield. 
And in this frail cocoon of hope, 
We'd grow our light, warm in empathy despite the surrounding pain
if I could

If I could, there would be no 'shoulds', 
'No!' to never-ending hats to wear or roles to perform
For everyone except ourselves.
No forms to fill out or societal norms to counter or explain
We'd be the glue for love, not to fill the gaps in productivity systems
Or be the constant communication stream which feeds the health machine

If I could, there'd be a village of raised hands to support 
the needs of the many in mutual appreciation and care, 
Instead of loneliness, isolation, and insomniac non-restorative sleep, 
we'd celebrate the tiny joys and relief

If I could, I'd share a deep sound, a musical resonance of trust and comfort
One chorus to instil confidence, 
Hands to connect and offer home-comfort care  
to reassure or embrace those in pain and need.
Then, listen with open-hearted willingness and time, 
for the support that THEY said they need
To feel wanted and believed, 
An individual unto themselves and seen
not a caregiving go-between-machine.
If I could

Could we?

What’s the messy feeling you’re feeling right now?

What kindness, self-compassionate thing are you doing for yourself?

Can you reach out to others you trust for support?

Or, how can you offer comfort, empathy and support to someone else?

We’re all human messes, perfectly imperfect, needing connection.

Please Remember to ‘❤️’ LIKE the article to guide others to Carer Mentor

1. Discombobulating a) Making the 2025 Calendar with medical appointments, things to do, and a growing ‘To-Do’ list. b) Hearing about several friends’ ‘wonderful’ plans and c) trying to reconcile needs, must-dos, wants, and desires (mine and Mum’s) while d) receiving updates about our lovely friend who’s palliative/end of life.

2. Unseen load of caregivers: “In the UK an unpaid carer is anyone who cares for someone who is ill, disabled, older, has mental health concerns or is experiencing addiction and is not paid by a company or local authority to do this. Primarily, this is a family member or friend.” The invisible backbone of today’s communities.

3. Anticipatory grief for our friend and the anniversary of my Dad’s passing.