Happy (Belated) One Year Anniversary!

And a huge thank you to my readers.

Photo by Ali Kokab on Unsplash

Happy One Year Anniversary to Millennial Caregivers, a newsletter about the millennial caregiving experience!

When I started Millennial Caregivers by sending out that very first post on April 20 one year ago, my mom was alive and I was in the depths of the caregiving experience. It is strange, because I’ve never felt so alone in my life than I had when I was taking care of my mom. And yet, I’ve never felt so *full* of life, either. It’s sad when it takes a loved one dying to reprioritize and figure out how to live. Being so close to death, there’s definitely something ethereal about it all. Something instinctual. You know? It cuts through the bullshit of everyday life and goes right to the heart of human existence, of what the meaning of life is, of what happens in the before and after and during. Why don’t we talk about this more often? Why can’t we?

Anyway, I can’t believe it’s been one year. So much time has passed and yet no time at all has passed.

Time functions differently to caregivers. When my mom was dying, they emphasized the value of life. Rethinking the days. Looking at the world differently.

Being a caregiver changed my life—for the better.

I am still reeling from the experience. I am still thinking about my mom’s passing from cancer, about preparing lunches and dinners and refilling glasses of water and fluffing pillows and doing my mom’s laundry and throwing out soiled towels. Taking care of my mom is still something I think about and caregiving—even though I’m not actively taking care of her because she died—is still major aspect and part of my life.

How different would my life have been if I knew what I know now then? How different would my life have been if thee was a strong support group? If there had been actual services there to help?

Lacking a peer-led support group for millennial caregivers, I started one with my own group of friends who were in various levels of caregiving.

Lacking a newsletter that went into the emotional depths of millennial caregivers, I created my own.

But there’s room for more. There’s always room for more.

My intention for this upcoming year (and beyond) is to be more intentional with this space. That means I have to hold myself accountable, too. I plan to write once a week and share something with you all each week, that will hopefully help you feel less alone in this experience and help you feel seen. In a further experiment, I hope to set up peer-led millennial caregiver support calls. Not therapy. But a sacred space to talk about your experience with other people going through similar things.

When I was going through my caregiving experience, I felt myself separating from my previous life. Everything I knew about myself faded away to make room for the immense amount of growth I endured during the last moments of my mom’s life.

It’s going to be a rough summer (my mom’s birthday is coming up, along with my birthday (the first without my mom), and my mom’s deathiversary) but I think finding meaning in this experience is going to help.

I keep telling myself this: my mom’s cancer and my role as her caregiver will not have been in vain.

There is meaning to all of this.

It’s just taking a bit of time for me to write it all down.

Thinking of you, and thank you for sharing this journey with me.

With love,

Madeline

Madeline Wahl is a postgraduate student pursuing an MLitt in Fantasy Literature at the University of Glasgow in Scotland. She is a writer, solo traveler, and millennial caregiver to her mom, who recently passed from terminal cancer. Her writing has appeared on Reader's Digest, HuffPost, Red Magazine, and McSweeney's, among others. She is working on her first novel in YA Fantasy and her first nonfiction book proposal on millennial caregiving.