I Can’t Believe It’s My Job To Make Sure Another Human Being Doesn’t Die

Oh yeah, and also has a fulfilled life

Seriously, who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to give me that responsibility?

All jokes aside, I actually think I’m pretty good at my job. I currently work for a family who has a son with cerebral palsy, and it’s my job to feed him, help him go to the bathroom, attend college classes, attend physical therapy appointments, and overall enjoy fun and productive activities throughout the day.

And I’m not going to lie, at the risk of sounding somewhat arrogant, I feel like I’m great at taking care of people, and I’m fortunate enough to enjoy the work that I do. I’m attentive, empathetic, and consistent in my efforts.

But not a day goes by where it doesn’t astound me that it’s literally my job to take care of another human being, and not an hour goes by where I don’t question what could go horribly wrong in the next moment.

• What if he choked to death because I fed him one bite wrong?
• What if he decides he doesn’t like me for whatever reason?
• What if I’m not strong enough to lift him from his wheelchair and I drop him and cause permanent damage?
• What if I crash the huge van I have to transport him in?
• What if his parents don’t like my caretaking style and fire me?
• What if I show up to work late, or take a wrong turn somewhere and miss one of his appointments?
• What if I can’t think of new and innovative things for him to try?
• Etc., etc., etc.

I wouldn’t consider myself a worry-wart, but this job definitely comes with its fair share of anxiety and fears.

But in the same breath, I’m surprisingly comfortable

And I get more comfortable every single day.

I admit I’m probably being a little dramatic, but it’s a strange dichotomy to have someone’s literal life in my hands, and yet be so unnaturally calm and collected.

I suppose that’s part of why I feel I’m so good at the job; because I’m able to maintain my composure amidst jarring situations. And even though I’ve generally been a nonchalant person my entire life, I wouldn’t consider myself to be familiar with the uncomfortable.

I’m not one to put myself in uncharted territory, and yet here I am, working a job I never thought I’d enjoy in a million years, and actually excelling at it.

But it’s hard work.

And every so often I think about how my mother, and every mother, must have had it so much harder

My job is pretty much a 9–5, give or take some minutes shaved off here and there. I clock in, take care of the person I’m supporting to the best of my ability, and clock out.

I get to go home. I get to go home and relax, play video games, work on my writing, exercise, and do whatever else comes to mind that day. And so does my twin brother. And so does my older brother. And so does my father.

Four boys that my mother had to take care of for over 20 years, a fact which never occurred to me as a child, but now, as a caretaker myself, daunts me to no end.

I can’t fathom how she balanced so many lives in her hands at once and still managed to take care of herself without one of us ending up horribly f*cked up. The older I get, the more respect I gain for my mother, and my father as well, for the simple yet astounding act of raising three (admittedly self-proclaimed) decent human beings.

I get so many of the traits I admire from my mother

My empathy, my sensitivity, my desire to nurture, my self-sacrificial tendencies (sometimes to my own detriment), and so many more of the qualities that make me feel like a good person almost surely stems from my mother. I can see more and more of myself in her as I discover things about myself through my job, my friends, and my life experiences.

And the qualities I recognize in my father — perseverance and persistence, work ethic, and stubbornness — also make it abundantly clear to me just how influenced I am by my parents.

As a teenager and young adult, I used to believe that my parents didn’t play a significant role in my upbringing. I considered most of my morality and virtues to be self-taught, or self-practiced.

While this may still be true to some extent, I’ve come to realize the best way my parents raised me was by letting me make my own decisions much more often than other people my age. They let me pursue my passions, succeed on my own and enjoy the pride, and fail on my own and wallow in the regret.

And through all the arguments, fights, disagreements, disrespect, and disharmony, they’ve never failed to accept me as part of their family, just as I have always come back to appreciate how much they’ve put up with over the years.

Being a caregiver has blessed me with insight into how much I was cared for, and how important is to have caring people around you

I never understood what feeling “fulfilled” in your job meant. I never considered a job to be something that could provide satisfaction; I only ever viewed it as a means of supporting yourself and the people that you love.

But as I get more and more comfortable with this job, as the person I’m supporting gets more and more engaged, as I’m seeing them become happier and more productive, I’m beginning to understand that my “fulfillment” comes by way of providing for someone else the same care and nurturing spirit that I was so fortunate to have.

While I still question my capabilities way too often for me to consider myself a confident person, I find solace in knowing that I’m getting better every day, because I’m actively choosing to reciprocate the same positive energy I’ve received.

And that knowledge alone is all that I need to stay motivated and keep going.

Hello, fellow wordsmith! Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed it, here are some other articles you might like:

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