A poem for carer's week

This post is inspired by

Angela Joy

‘s post:

Courage

I have a poem on a similar theme that I will share at the bottom of this post, but I would not have shared the background to the poem without seeing Angela’s post.

How did I get here?

I have written on here about not being able to perform poetry as much as I used to over the last 12 months but I haven’t really said why before. It felt too personal. I also read that it can take carer’s up to two years to be able to actively call themselves a carer. In the last 12 months I have moved jobs, cancelled poetry workshops I hoped to run, handed over the reins of hosting poetry events I had put a lot of work into. For a while I kept doing the social media for the events but never being there. I have also recently read that carers need to be aware that social media can exacerbate fear of missing out and lonliness, I can vouch now that is absolutely the case. Suddenly all these communities I had built up disappeared from my grasp. The truth is very few people noticed enough to check in. Plus I was adjusting. I was keeping my privacy so I did not reach out.

This week is both Carers Week and Loneliness Awareness week and my experience of the last 12 months tells me these experiences go hand in hand with each other. And asking for help with both is exceptionally vulnerable thing to have to do. I have seen well meaning posts on the subject of loneliness week by people I know as if they don’t personally know any one who is lonely. That it happens to other people. I know they are doing their best with their experience of the world, but somehow the posts never feel like I should reply or comment ‘I’ve been a bit lonely actually.’

Withdrawal from community

My understanding of the poetry community was tested really early on in this shift in my life. I wrote a little poem that I put in my instagram stories that said something along the lines of poets may not notice when you are lost, but their poems know how to find you when you need them. Someone replied to earnestly tell me that was an insensitive suggestion when poets did so much to search for the cherished poet Gboyega Odubanjo in 2023. I was horrified that someone would read my own personal cry for help as a criticism of anyone, never mind the thought that I would have been critical of the people who did all they could to look for Gboyega Odubanjo. I ran two poetry social media accounts at that time with over 5k followers between them, and shared the stories of the search efforts and fundraising daily on them. I deleted the instagram story immediately and cried my heart out for hours. I told the person how devastated I was at their interpretation and how devastated I already was. They didn’t seem to be interested in my story or how I was literally telling them I was lost. I never dared reach out via social media again. I mentioned it to people who got in touch. Sometimes they were people looking for me to book them on an event I no longer ran. As I say, the community I thought I was a part of didn't notice all that much.

I withdrew further as I had real life challenges that needed my energy more. I am only just now accepting that community is something that is the moment you are in. When you are physically present or offering others something by organising or promoting it or able to buy tickets and show up. I can’t do that right now so I have to accept I won’t be part of that community until I can give something back into it. But I can read your substacks, books and listen t podcasts, watch videos of your work. This does help, but doesn't replace the human experience of being in a room with others doing the same kind of thing.

There are still people who have reached out and offered me opportunities, that I haven’t always been able to accept, but have always wanted to and was grateful to be thought of. I am eternally grateful to anyone who has kept in touch despite my withdrawal. I realise this has made a huge difference to me. ¹

The upside!

I have had to find different ways to flex my creativity and to feel connected to the world. On the nights I have stayed in I have had time to pull together a book bringing together the first 5 years of my poetry:

I even called it Proving I Exist, which amongst other things, was a reminder to myself that I had been brave enough to write myself a new chapter. I am more grateful to myself for doing that than ever. You never know when you might have to pause parts of your life so if you can do the things you want, you should.

I have submitted lots of poetry (the majority of which has been rejected so far!.. there are many articles in my archive on this subject.) And I have read … A LOT! This has given me solace, company, escape and inspiration.

The poem

One of the real life things I had to do entailed a lot of admin to help secure support, which is the inspiration behind this poem:

To care is to practice patience 
Lower expectations 
Under the unbearable weight of securing a ‘package of care’
There will be endless admin and questionnaires
For services that may not exist 
But the paperwork is diligent and daunting 
            Endless and 
                                 exhausting 
To get the smallest piece of support in place
You will need to follow a maze with no map 
To services held together with bootstraps
Admin that loops and loops
No heroes swoop in and scoop you up
Volunteers will tell you hard truths gently
     God bless Age UK
     Please tell me it will be ok 
     Please tell me it will be ok 
     How much do we need to pay?
     How can we move red tape?
Find a glimmer of dignity in the opaque 

Every one of us turns into a victim
In a barely functioning system

Thank you for reading Poems & That, where I write about things I have learned about poetry beyond the poetry itself. Sometimes I even share a poem! More of my poetry can be found in my collection ‘Proving I Exist’.

1. For any other carer’s who find this post can I also recommend the brilliant Emily Kenway book, ‘WHO CARES’ https://www.emilykenway.com/who-cares