I was in my early thirties, my marriage had just dissolved, I was raising my two children while on social assistance. I was going to university at night and working part-time on various contracts. I felt as if I was losing my grasp of who I was. I had too much on my plate and I had to make sacrifices. It was at this time when my mother told me something quite profound which significantly influenced my choices ever since.

A few years earlier, when my children were just babies, I had spinal surgery. At the same time, my father had his right leg amputated at the knee (a WWII injury) and my mother was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. We had combined forces at the time, to help each other to cope. Then, over the years that passed, it was just understood that I would be around in case my parents needed help.

Thus, is the life of a caregiver. Someone who is available for a loved one, to help them in whatever way they can. Whether it is by cooking meals, cleaning homes, administering medications, first aid, personal care, or just to offer consistent moral support, caregivers take on this responsibility out of love and necessity. I had four siblings, two were close by, but I was the one available to my parents most often. My sisters would help when they could, but they also had full-time jobs and families to support. My circumstance, as awkward as it was, made me available and I was committed to be there for them. So, I chose my employment to accommodate my parent’s needs.  In a nutshell, that is how it was, but the social pressure was always there for me to find full-time work, to get off the system, to be accepted by my peers who stigmatized my status as someone on assistance.

I spent my days studying, working, raising my children, and caring for my parents. I was always busy running errands, studying at the library, cleaning two homes, cooking, learning about diabetes, and helping where I could. After a few years, the pressure got to be too much and, in a moment of despair, I walked away from my studies at the university. My mother, who in her childhood used to study under her blankets with a lit lantern, knew how much education meant to me and that it broke my heart to quit.

Once a month I would give my mom a pedicure. I would make her a large iceberg lettuce salad with old cheddar cheese and cucumbers, celery and onion, drizzled with French dressing. She would sit in her chair to watch her favourite soap operas and I would soak her feet before giving her a pedicure. She couldn’t see well enough to do it herself, as she was suffering from glaucoma and awaiting cataract surgery. On one of those days, she bent and placed her hand on my shoulder and said. “Barbara, I don’t know what I would do without you, but I feel I’ve caused you to miss your calling.”

“You are my calling,” I said.

Through her tears, she described each one of her children. All five of us had our distinctive qualities, but when she spoke of mine I actually didn’t believe her. She said, “You have this natural ability to help others, to help them feel better to keep moving forward.” She reminded me of two situations in my childhood when I brought troubled children home and helped them to get the assistance they needed. One was going to run away, the other was the victim of abusive parents. With regard to the latter, once she was placed in a foster home, I continued to tutor her until she had caught up on her work in school. “And that’s just two people,” my mother said. “There have been many more since. Including me.” She told me never to stop being someone who helps others this way, to be someone who helps others to keep moving forward, “but you too, have to keep moving forward,” she said.

In a few kind words, my mother coached me. She showed me how to see into other people to find their value and she taught me that no matter what comes in life, one must always keep moving forward, with integrity, with love. It took me some time to figure things out, but I believe her now. I now have a Master’s degree in interdisciplinary studies. I am a journalist. My children, my pride, are grown, healthy adults and I have developed 20 years of experience in coaching others to achieve and to live life moving forward. All thanks to my mother, who saw me, before I saw myself.