How is Caring Meaningful to Me?
I have this habit of answering the question, 'What is being a carer like?' by talking about the day-to-day tasks, stresses, and challenges that I've experienced. While I think that these are important parts of caring that have helped people support me in the workplace and at university; it can sometimes feel like it reduces caring to a completely selfless act. This perception of care can be problematic, deepening the existing power imbalance between me and my brother.
So when I worked on the UTS Scholar/ Artist-in-Residence/ and Carer, Dr Danica Knezvic in her series 'Making Meaning – Art as Acts of Care'', I had the time and space to reflect on how care is meaningful to me personally. In doing that, I could unpack why I find that imbalance so deeply uncomfortable and celebrate how being a carer has afforded knowledges, experiences, and opportunities that I otherwise never have access to. Caring in this way has been the greatest gift to me.
Below are some of my reflections in response to Danica's works. Where I've used the artwork as a launching point to examine my own caring experiences and examine how it is similar or different to other carers.
I think what I've found is that while each carer has a unique carer story, what they draw from this experience is resoundingly similar. Whether this is developing their inner self, finding unity with others, providing support for others, or expressing their full potential – caring is a meaningful experience that helps us learn more about the people we love, the world, and ourselves.
In reading my reflections and looking at these works, I invite you to reflect on how care is meaningful to you?
For my brother, the beach is the complete opposite of an relaxing experience. He finds that the loud waves crashing and the bright sun as overstimulating and anxiety-inducing. So as his carer, I have to be on the lookout for potential sensory triggers and try and respond to them before he does. Sometimes when I am out on my own, I will tense up when I come across something that I know he dislikes.
This automatic response to his triggers reminds me that it's not entirely possible to simple 'clock-off' from caring. Caring is complicated like that and that's exactly why I find it so meaningful. You are always considering and embodying the needs of the person you care for within yourself and find that you pick up quirks from each other. Embodying those triggers helped me understand why they are uncomfortable to him and helped me become more empathetic to his needs and helped find better strategies to support him.
A video performance: no dialogue, loud mechanical noises.
Carer packing and unpacking the boot of their car with a motorized wheelchair.
It is an extension of her limbs, while traveling within and without of the house.
I think watching Danica work just reminds me of just how much muscle memory there is that comes in care. How much of the 'work' we do without needing to think. It makes me think back to the more subtle aspects of care - the little things that I have to do that feel so natural that I forget are a part of care!
Video only: No audio
[View of elderly hands, a grandmother unconsciously enacting the action of knitting empty handed while sleeping (in hospital) and later while awake, consciously knitting with knitting needles and colourful thread.]
When I tell people that I am a carer, a lot of them imagine that I am constantly moving on my feet with barely a moment to spare for myself. But in my personal and professional experience, it's not just about those larger more obvious acts of care but it's also about observing the subtle moments and actions of the person you care for. Caring can be slow and quiet, it can give you the time to breathe and reflect upon yourself and the wider world. I find that these unassuming moments are often the most profound and meaningful experiences of care for me. They feel like I've found the missing piece of the puzzle in understanding a facet of the person I care for. They help me to refocus my priorities. They give me a moment to breath and ground myself again
Video-performance installation: No audio
[We see four female family members of varying ages and physical abilities.]
[Each person occupies the doorway individually, making their way into and through the light, looking to us, the viewer- their destination is an unseen space.]
[A family member follows the previous closely in a circuit, the momentum is constant, and their own version of steady]
I found myself drifting to thinking about the rhythm that you can fall in and out of with the person you care. How sometimes it feels seamless and other times you can feel uneasy knowing that you have to shift and test something new in your routine.
Because my routine is so inextricably linked to not only the routine of person I care for but with the other people that care for them – I am a lot more appreciative of moments when everything just works.
Please feel free to get in contact with me to share any of your comments or questions about this post.
