'Find The Joy' By Lauren Klinger

The Eighth Letter from a Caregiver.

Hello, dear Friends. In our ‘Letters from a Caregiver’ collaboration, we’re sharing heartfelt messages of wisdom and comfort to our younger selves.

Our Letters

1. Introduction and letter to my September 2017 self by Victoria

2. 'Acceptance With Grace' by Mary Beth Kaplan

3. 'Strength in Vulnerability; Growth from Adversity.' By Dr Rachel Molloy

4. “Changes beyond my control but agility beyond my imagination.” by Victoria

5. “From The Other Side Of The Story.” by

   The Invisible Caretaker

6. “Healing Comes in Many Forms: Honoring our Sacred Contract” by Janine De Tillio Cammarata

7. ‘Blessings in Disguise’ By Carolyn Malone

Leaning into the paradox of human-ing, with curiosity.

Our to-do lists are not limited to the acts of hands-on caregiving. It’s a never-ending stream of admin, communication, follow-ups/chasing information, with the addition of everything beyond the health care: finances, house administration, managing interactions with family and friends, and so much more. The to-dos never stop.

There are times when the blur of action can darken our days. It can feel overwhelming, isolating and joyless.

“According to the creation story in the biblical book of Genesis, God said, “Let there be light.” I like to imagine that light replied, saying, “God, I have to wait for my twin brother, darkness, to be with me. I can’t be there without the darkness.” God asked, “Why do you need to wait? Darkness is there.” Light answered, “In that case, then I am also already there.”

―Thích Nhất Hạnh, No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering

I lit up when I read this story in ‘No Mud, No Lotus’. The ‘Both/And’ paradoxical nature of being human is especially acute when we’re caregiving. Sharp and pointed moments where pain and love can pierce our hearts.

I carry those memories with me. Some are snapped and saved into my photo library. Others are tattooed on my heart. Painfully bittersweet, these were intense joy-love moments.

There was no predictability; none of these moments were scheduled or organised. I found them where I least expected them—breathing in the moment, watching over Dad.

‘Breathe, pause, be present’

Perfectly imperfect human-ing is so paradoxical!

Amidst the doing, if we can pause and breathe, we may unexpectedly find light moments of relief, and the pin pricks of joy that can keep us going in the dark times.

It’s not easy to see this if you’re in the storm of actions or a crisis. I hope my thoughts and Lauren’s letter show you that joy, and that finding enjoyment is available to us, even in the worst of times.

Author: Lauren Klinger is a writer and editor sharing lessons from years of caregiving. She lost her mom in her 20s and her dad in her 30s, and says she wasn’t ready for the responsibilities of taking care of aging parents. She hopes to help others navigate this season of life through her free Substack, Learn From My Mistakes.

Find The Joy

Dear Younger Me,

When you have a baby, people say “enjoy every minute!”, and you want to spray them in the face with your peri bottle. You want to stab them in the eye with Sophie the Giraffe. You want to ball them up and shove them in your Diaper Genie. It’s hard to enjoy anything when you’re sleep-deprived, hormone-ravaged, and second-guessing every decision you make.

But I’m here to tell you that when it comes to caring for your parents as they age, you need to enjoy it more. I know, I’m a hypocrite.

Now, don’t get me wrong — it suuuuuucks.

Here are five things that are going to suck, a lot:

1. Losing your parents before you even turn 40. As an only child, this is brutal. There’s no sugarcoating it.

2. Losing your mom so fast you have less than a month after her diagnosis before she’s gone. You will feel like you lose her not just once but over and over again, every time you see a stained glass window, a tulip, or a great deal at Goodwill.

3. Being anxious, constantly, that a decision you make is going to get your dad infected with COVID-19, a new disease killing millions of people, many of them elderly, with underlying conditions, or housed in nursing homes, like your dad. You have to say no to every event, you don’t let your baby go anywhere indoors where he might touch something with germs or even visit a playground where there are other kids. You wipe down your groceries and wear gloves when you pick up takeout. You are obsessed with not getting him sick.

4. Buying diapers for your dad. You don’t realize that you’ll need to supply everything he needs when he comes home (too soon) from the facility. You need diapers, wipes, a changing mat, pads to protect the chairs. What brand do you get? How big of a box? Are these going to be comfy? The guy on the box looks pretty fit; are these going to be too small? You are utterly unprepared.

5. Watching your dad slowly try less and less hard to get healthy, and knowing that if your mom were still around, he wouldn’t have had the option to quit trying.

But here are some things that you should try to enjoy more. These days are numbered, so try to wring as much joy as you can out of them:

1. Being with your mom those last three weeks. You are smart enough to immediately abandon your life in Pittsburgh to fly home to be with her, even though your dad told you not to worry about coming down right away, and that you didn’t have to stay indefinitely. Good job in realizing where you needed to be. Try to ask her all the questions you can. What was it like to be a new mom in a new city with no support system? How did I learn to read? What kind of grandmother do you wish you got to be?

2. Watching football with your dad. Nobody yells at the Buccaneers like your dad. If the offensive coordinators would just listen to him and stop running those play fakes that fool no one, everyone would be better off. Watch as many games as you can with him, and try not to resent him for having to clean up in the kitchen.

3. Your dad’s independence. Every year, from 2007 to 2021, he will get more dependent on you. Try to enjoy the independence while you have it. Can he drive you to the airport? Let your dog out? Meet you at a restaurant? Revel in the independence. Talk to him about what independence means to him.

4. Holidays. In your 20s, it won’t occur to you how few holidays you have left with your family (and the “found family” with whom they surrounded you). Appreciate the traditions, even though your impulse is to cut them short. Give thoughtful gifts. Say thank you. Take photos. Don’t count calories. Drink wine. Put your phone down.

5. The phone calls. No one in your life will ever be as happy to hear from you as your dad. He’s calling too often? No, he isn’t. Call him every day. That delight he telegraphs when you pick up? Bottle it.

Being with your aging parent is a gift. It won’t always feel like one, of course, but it is a gift. Every day you have with them is an opportunity to realize how good you have it, how wonderful your parents have been to you. It’s a chance to give them back, in the smallest amounts, the care and love they gave you your whole life.

Your parents don’t stop being people when they start to decline physically or mentally. And it’s a privilege to know them as they grow old. You will have silly inside jokes with your dad, and he will be game to try every weird vegan thing you decide to bake. You will never forget crawling into the hospital bed with your mom to watch a dog show on television. As they age, your parents will not have the same role in your life, and you won’t have the same role in theirs. It’s okay to grieve for what’s past, but it’s also okay (and recommended!) to find joy in the new roles you both have.

My biggest piece of advice to you as you embark on a season of life you didn’t think would come so soon, caring for your parents, is to find all the joy you can. Once they’re gone, you’ll wish you had. And because caregiving is hard, and it’s a lot easier if you don’t actively hate every moment of it.

So, take the frustration and resentment, all the things that suck about caregiving, acknowledge them, fully feel the feelings, and then stuff them in that Diaper Genie so you can find the joy.

Good luck, you got this, Future Lauren.

The Closing Rapid-Fire Questions to Lauren from Victoria:

1. Fill in the blank ‘Empathy to me is’

   not only understanding and feeling someone’s pain but also respecting their goals, values, and wishes.

2. What’s one question you’d ask your future self?

   I’d ask my future self what I needed that I didn’t get. What support was missing? And then use that to support others in my life.

3. What’s one quote/song/movie/book that’s inspired or carried you through to today?

   There’s nothing that makes me feel connected to my mom like listening to Billy Joel. If she were here, she’d tell you she saw him open for Jefferson Starship at Niagara Falls. There’s a particular song that comes up for me when I try to do to many things, “Vienna.” It’s about slowing down, not barreling through life without enjoying it. When I feel anxious, I have a tendency to add tasks to my life, not take them away. I have a hard time resting. I got a sweatshirt embroidered with the lyric from the song. It says, “Slow down, you’re doing fine.” That’s the perspective I wish I had more often when I was caring for my parents. Slow down. You’re doing fine.

Where’s an unexpected place you’ve found joy in caregiving?

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© Carer Mentor, October 23, 2025. This concept/theory/poem is original to Carer Mentor™ VLChin Ltd. If you use it, please give credit and link to the original work. Thank you. www.carermentor.com