Guest post by Katy Gloudemans
There is a phenomenon experts term emotional drowning. It is the feeling of sinking slowly, then briefly coming up for air only to frantically flail around looking for something, anything, to hold onto.
Caring for someone with a terminal illness is like this. You cling to the good stuff—the small and otherwise insignificant pieces of the day—so you can somehow manage to forget about Hurricane Reality.
“She seems better today. Maybe the experimental treatment is working.” Or “He seems to be responding well to chemotherapy.”
You can float on these random positive thoughts for days, drifting and dreaming about the way things once were. Beneath the surface, there is always that looming diagnosis constantly pulling you back down against an unwavering dedication—the power that brings you back up. Some caregivers bounce up and down like this for days, months, even years, managing, scheduling, visiting, caring, loving, AND living. But when the storm strikes, you find that despite your best effort, you are still not prepared for the finality.
At the time I never thought of myself as a caregiver. It is a very vague title if you really think about it. But after both my parents passed away, I recognized myself in this story. Losing someone you love is always hard but loving them was so easy. This would be the secret to moving forward.
First, I needed to look back. When the storm kept coming, I kept swimming. When it seemed there was no refuge in sight, somehow I emerged stronger, wiser, and even more committed. When I could not fight the relentless wind, I leaned into love and used it to control my direction. But more than anything else, when all seemed hopeless, I made the conscious decision to reach out and grab the first hand I saw, the only constant I have ever known—Jesus.
In this life we are all called upon to be caregivers—guardians of precious life. Storms it seems are part of the journey. But after the storm, the SON always shines again.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
Matthew 5:4 ESV
Katy Gloudemans grew up in Little Chute, Wisconsin. She’s been married forty years to her high school sweetheart, and her family has grown to include three married children and eight perfect grandchildren. Aside from amateur writing, Katy enjoys walking, traveling, thrifting, decorating, and spending time with family. Katy is a fierce autism ally, and you can find her on Instagram
Tracy Crump dispenses hope in her award-winning book, Health, Healing, and Wholeness: Devotions of Hope in the Midst of Illness (CrossLink Publishing, 2021). A former intensive care nurse, she cared for her parents and her mother-in-law and understands both the burdens and joys of caregiving. Her devotions have been featured in Guideposts books, The Upper Room, and many other publications, and she has contributed 22 stories to Chicken Soup for the Soul® books. She also conducts writing workshops, freelance edits, and proofreads for Farmers’ Almanac. But her most important job is Grandma to five completely unspoiled grandchildren.
A wonderful post! So true and comforting. Life is a journey of ups and downs . We do our best in caring for our love ones. . We can survive our losses and heartaches with with God’s loving comfort and Compassion.
Thank you, Jeri. You know this roller coaster ride only too well.
Thank you for these thoughts. They are helpful in moving forward and also on reflecting back.
Thanks for reading, Sarah!
I needed this right now!
Sounds as though you’re going through a hard time right now, Janeal. Will be praying for you.
I love your conclusion, Katy. Thank you.
Thank you again for your wonderful post, Katy!
You are so welcome. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of Caregivers’ Corner! Your support and the stories you share make this community stronger and more compassionate.
Thank you, Katy. Your post is already having an impact!