Hit me with an idea on my way home from work last night - same old plan, visiting the mother-in-law with my hubby. We've been slammed lately, needed some downtime. Hubby thought about flying solo, I was beat and figured the drive could be a solid chance to shoot the breeze and unwind. So, we decided to make it a trip after dinner and homework with the kids.
On the road, we chewed over our recent ups and downs, and how we've been getting better at talking things out. Met up with the uncle and aunt-in-law first. Salt of the earth, both of them. They're here for the grandma, but it's more like having extra family around than hired help. They're blood, after all, and making sure they're happy and healthy is worth every penny.
Grandma's been feeling better, wants to cut costs on the caregiving. Hubby lost it - all this back and forth. They've come a long way to help, and it gives us peace of mind. But grandma's still pinching pennies. I didn't get why hubby was so heated, ended up sparking up myself. Tried to get grandma to see it from our side - we're cool as long as she's cool. If she worries too much, we worry too much, and that's no good for anyone. Kept cutting hubby off, thinking I'd smooth things over better.
Crack of dawn today, heading back, I was all, "I got this." Told grandma and hubby to sweat the small stuff less. Big picture's what counts. Thought hubby was at his wit's end over it, so I laid it on thicker - changing minds takes time, and grandma might waffle on having the uncle and aunt around. We gotta be cool with that. They're family, no hard feelings.
When I was trying to make my point clear, my husband tried to chime in. Worried I'd lose my train of thought, I shut him down. After I finished, he couldn't hold back anymore. He blew up, explaining why he lost his temper last night, his thoughts, and his plan to handle it. He'd already talked to the elderly, saying we've done all we can. If she still wants to save money by sending the uncle and auntie away, unless they really don't get along, he suggested rotating care among her daughters, with us footing the bill. Hearing this hit me like a ton of bricks, a point I'd never considered. If her daughters took over, the weight on my shoulders felt instantly lighter. I realized I'd been putting too much pressure on myself. Instead of convincing her to accept paid care, I was fighting myself. I had lost myself!
Why was I trying to pick up the pieces if she messed up? Why did I take on this responsibility? I don't feel responsible for my mom's health because she's living with my brother and his wife, who can care for her. So why do I feel like the primary caretaker for my mother-in-law's well-being when she's with us? I even saw myself as the guardian of my whole family's welfare. Who am I kidding? Even the sun sets. I thought my value lay in selflessly burning myself out for others' happiness, without regret. But now, I see the folly in that.
I broke down in tears, realizing the immense, unnecessary pressure I'd placed on myself. I'm not here to save the world, nor do I have the capacity, yet why do I feel compelled to try? My willingness to give is at odds with my actual ability to bear the load. I've been endlessly generating love, taking on burdens that others should carry for their decisions. It took this incident with my mother-in-law for my husband to inadvertently show me that my love knows no bounds. If this had been about my mom or kids, I might have accused him of being heartless, not seeing that I was the one without boundaries.
This trip to L turned out to be a huge growth opportunity for me. I need a fundamental change. I need to learn to love myself better. If I hadn't realized my limitless capacity for love, it could have led to disaster. If my mother-in-law relapsed and wanted her relatives to leave, I might have driven myself to the brink of collapse, either through an accident or illness. Not only would the problem remain unsolved, but I could have dragged my whole family down with me. Thankfully, I caught this in time. I've recognized two conflicting beliefs: my boundless love and my limited capacity to sustain it. This might be why I sometimes feel drained. If we reach our limit and my endless love continues, it could create even bigger problems than those my mother-in-law is causing. My misguided sense of moral high ground could lead to severe consequences, potentially destroying not just myself but my entire family.
My husband once said that being accused of being heartless actually showed he had principles. I now see the truth in that. Expecting him to bear the consequences of others' decisions isn't kindness; it's harmful. What's seen as heartlessness is simply understanding that everyone must take responsibility for their actions. We can't be saviors or scapegoats. Unprincipled, boundless love might seem kind, but it's no different from doing harm. It's moral blackmail, first binding ourselves, then others.
So, no more foolishly generating love without limits. Don't overstep boundaries. Love and take care of yourself.
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