She’s Not MY Friend!”
I’ve learned that caring is more genuine and sustainable when I follow my own values instead of trying to meet Milly’s expectations.
Theme: The Burnout
Quick Take:
Milly ran a greetings company. I didn’t - and I don’t.
Different values, different ways of caring.
I can care for Milly without taking on her expectations.
Wobble
I had a a bit of a wobble this week - probably left over tiredness from day surgery last week. But it was a good reminder that I need to have faith in my own values.
Milly asked me to send a birthday card to someone I barely know and whom she hasn’t seen for years. She’s had no interest in her ‘Birthday Book’ for a long time, it overwhelms her, so I’m not sure why she suddenly remembered the date or the person.
Compromising
Living together means we all have to compromise and not least Milly, because she’s in our home. So I try to be fair and respect the way she has always liked to do things.
I try! And my reaction to her request was initially caring. I explained I wouldn’t be fishing out this person’s address and sending out this particular card, that we should focus only the closest relationships and make a special effort for important occasions, milestones or celebrations.
“She’s Not My Friend!”
This is a subject we have always differed on so I could feel bubbles of bile start to surface. “You know I only send cards to a small circle of people. I save my energy for when someone is going through a difficult time, not because they’re 73 years old!”
Milly ignored my rising irritation and asked why it was a problem.
“Because she’s not my friend,” I said angrily. Then I walked away.
I’m proud to say that I didn’t hang around to tell her that I wasn’t her slave, that postage was ridiculously expensive now, that I couldn’t be bothered to find an appropriate card and get it to the post box in time and that this person’s life wouldn’t be ruined because they hadn’t received a card from an old woman with dementia.
Meeting Expectations
“Mum wants this.”
“Dad insists on that.”
I often read these phrases online, stories usually wrapped in irritation and frustration. And closely followed by upset and feelings of guilt.
I understand. It’s hard not meeting a loved one’s expectations, particularly a parent. I certainly don’t like saying no to Milly now she’s a little lost and so reliant on me. I hate to leave her feeling sad or disappointed. But I do have to look after myself.
We’re Different
Navigating daily life with Milly often reminds me that we see the world differently.
Milly likes horse racing. Horse racing isn’t something I’d watch; I’m not comfortable with animals being used for sport or profit.
Milly loves the royals (well, used to)! I’m not against the idea of a monarch, but I don’t think they should be treated with awe.
Milly admires good manners. In my view manners are often more about appearances than thoughtfulness or kindness and, in the case of children, less about genuine contentment.
Milly used to clean most days. I clean most months.
Milly used to send around 3-4 cards each week. I don’t! And that’s where my wobble comes in.
The Greetings Empire
I would often laugh and say that Milly ran a “greetings business.” She had more cards than any supermarket could stock - birthdays, anniversaries, condolences, even “one year since your loss” notes. She has eleven godchildren because people knew she would remember their children, write to them, and hold them in her thoughts.
A Card for Every Occasion
I used to joke that Milly would find the perfect card for her local newsagent’s daughter if she discovered their little girl’s rabbit had just died.
She was trusted. Kind. Caring. Thoughtful. Compassionate.
150 Relationships Later…
At one point, Milly kept over 100 relationships alive through cards and calls. She sent around 150 Christmas cards each year, nearly all with personal notes.
When she was unwell, she sometimes tried to recruit me, but I pushed back. I never wanted that role - it felt overwhelming. I had seen how exhausting it could be for her, how worried she’d get if she forgot or was late for the post.
When my father died and Milly’s memory worsened, I still resisted. I refused to become her social secretary.
It’s Never Just a Card
My irritation at this request wasn’t about a piece of cardboard - it was about being pulled back into my mother’s greetings business, a role I’d resisted for most of my life.
Thankfully, reflecting on our differences softened the frustration. I don’t have to recreate Milly’s system to care about her - or anyone else.
True to Myself
When Milly expects something that adds to my demands - or triggers a negative reaction from the old days! - I remind myself that being a caring and loving daughter isn’t about agreeing with everything Milly believes in. It’s about being true to what I think is fair and kind and, what is sustainable. I need to have confidence in my beliefs because I’ve learned they keep me strong and, as a result, softer.
No-One Left Hanging
In case anyone is wondering, I didn’t leave her friends hanging! Many are elderly, and it would have been sad if they felt forgotten.
I let people know about Milly’s health and memory loss, and that contact wouldn’t be the same.
Once I shared what was happening, I was surprised by how many quietly opened up about their own dementia experiences - and that’s another story.
The Unexpected Freedom
So now my values feel more important than ever. They keep me steady - and probably save Milly from the worst of my irritation.
Plus I’m once again reminded of the strange freedom that comes with forgetting. The old Milly would have been harder to care for. Sharp-minded but increasingly frail, she would have been deeply upset about missed birthdays and celebrations. Someone would have had to keep her system running - and that someone might very easily have been me.