F is for Family...And Who Shows Up

What happens when life reveals who really shows up?

In this episode of F is for Effort, I share a personal story about caregiving, family expectations, and the people who stand beside us when life gets hard. It's an honest conversation about disappointment, resilience, and redefining what family really means.

Because in the end, family isn't just about who you're related to—it's about who shows up.

Transcript

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Hello and welcome everyone. Thank you for joining me on another episode of Ephes for Effort. I'm Jack Hayden. Okay, so in my previous episode, Ephes for Family and the Fight You Can't Win, I talked about my experience helping care for my mom during the final years of her life. I talked about her kidney disease, her dialysis, and the cancer. And I also talked about what it was like watching someone who had always been so strong and independent slowly begin needing more and more help. But there was another side to that experience that I didn't really get into. And honestly, I think it surprised me just as much as everything my mom was going through. Because while I expected her illness to be difficult, what I wasn't prepared for was the family dynamic that came with it. You see, when a parent gets sick, I think most of us have this picture in our minds of what happens next. We imagine family coming together and putting any differences aside. We also imagine everyone pitching in and helping out. And sometimes that happens, but sometimes it doesn't. And when it doesn't, it can become one of the most frustrating parts of the entire experience. And as my mom's health continued to decline, somebody had to keep track of everything: all of the doctor appointments, the dialysis schedule, the transportation, the procedures and doctor visits, all the medications, and all the doctor follow-ups. The endless stream of details that come with caring for someone who is seriously ill. And somehow that responsibility landed on me. There wasn't a family meeting or anything. Nobody had assigned me the role. It just happened. Maybe because I was the one asking all the questions, or maybe because I was worried more than everyone else, or maybe because I felt like somebody had to stay on top of things. Whatever the reason, I became the person coordinating everything. And what made that difficult was my mom herself. Not because she was difficult, it was quite the opposite. My mom was extremely independent. Even when she was weak, struggling, and clearly needed help, she hated asking for it. She didn't want to burden anybody. And she definitely didn't want anyone rearranging their lives because of her. So a lot of times, if you asked her how she was doing, she'd tell you she was fine. Meanwhile, I'd be looking at the reality of the situation and thinking, no, you're not. Not because she was lying, but because she wanted to protect everyone else. And that made me worry constantly. I worried about her being alone and trying to do too much, or about her getting dizzy and falling. I also worried about her driving when she wasn't strong enough. And I definitely worried about something happening when nobody was around. Those thoughts never really left me, especially during periods when my dad wasn't there. Now my parents had a complicated relationship. Sometimes things were good and sometimes they weren't. There were arguments. There were periods where my dad would leave for a few days, or sometimes longer. And whenever that happened, my stress level immediately went up. Because regardless of whatever disagreements they had, I always felt better knowing somebody was there with her, someone who could help her get up, or someone who could help her if she needed something, someone who can notice if she wasn't doing well. And looking back now, I have to give my dad credit. Because despite all the issues they had over the years, and despite the fact that he and I didn't always see eye to eye, he was there a lot more than people realize. He helped with appointments. He helped around the house. He helped her when she was weak. And he was there during all procedures and all surgeries. And he was there at night when she needed help. And for that, I'll always be grateful to him. But whenever he wasn't there, that's when things became complicated. Because that's when I started reaching out more and more to my siblings. I would send text messages, make phone calls, explain my concerns. I would communicate what mom needed, and I would explain why I thought she needed additional help. And while I usually got responses, what I rarely got was initiative. Very rarely did someone call and ask, How's mom doing? What appointments does she have this week? Can I help? Can I take her somewhere? Can I stop by and check on her? And after a while, I started feeling like I wasn't just helping care for my mom. I was managing the entire situation. I was carrying the responsibility, all the planning, the awareness, and the mental load. And that became exhausting. Because even when you're not physically doing something, you're thinking about it, you're worrying about it, and you're trying to stay one step ahead of the next problem. Then another issue came along. Money. My mom eventually ended up on disability because working simply wasn't realistic for her anymore. Between the dialysis and everything she was dealing with, maintaining employment became impossible. The problem was that disability income wasn't going to be enough, especially with housing costs. So we started looking for solutions. And eventually we found one. We found a house. A house in an area she had always liked. It was a nice neighborhood. It would be a place where she could feel comfortable and have stability. And a place overall that she could call home. I remember being genuinely excited because for the first time in a long time, it felt like we had found an answer. It felt like we were giving her something positive during an incredibly difficult chapter of her life. There was just one catch though. The house needed work, a lot of work. It was a fixer-upper. And that's where I made an assumption. I assumed that family would come together. And I assumed that because this was for mom, everyone would naturally want to help. Especially family members who had experience in construction trades, people who knew the remodeling business and how to remodel a house. People who had the skills to help transform the place. I pictured all of us working together, fixing things up, getting the house ready, making it something special for her. I truly believed that was what was going to happen. Instead, what happened was something very different. There were disagreements, there were different expectations, there were different opinions about what helping meant. There were different views about family obligations, and there were definitely different views about compensation and getting paid for the work. And before long, what I thought was going to bring everyone together ended up creating tension. Eventually, it led to a serious falling out with one of my siblings. A falling out that honestly caught me by surprise. Because from my perspective, we were just trying to help our mom. That was the goal, that was the mission, and that's all I could see. But not everyone was seeing it the same way. And that was one of the hardest lessons I learned during that entire experience. People don't always see family responsibilities the same way. And they don't always see sacrifice or define helping the same way. And when those differences collide, relationships can suffer. Well, the house eventually got finished. My mom eventually got her home. And very proud of that. I'm proud that despite all the setbacks and all the frustrations from my family, we found a way to make it happen. But the experience changed me. Because it forced me to confront a question I had never really thought about before. And that question is, what actually makes someone family? Think about it. Is it blood? Is it genetics? Or is it simply sharing the same last name? Because if that's all it takes, then why do so many people feel closer to friends than they do some of their own relatives? That's something I thought about a lot after everything that happened. Because throughout my life, I've met people who would drop everything just to help a friend. People who would check in on you, genuinely care, and consistently show up. And sometimes those people aren't family at all. They're friends. Meanwhile, some of the people we're related to can feel like complete strangers. That's a difficult realization. But I think it's an honest one. And helping care for my mom really brought that into focus for me. Because when someone you love becomes seriously ill, you find out very quickly who is willing to show up. Not just who talks about it or who says all the right things and means well, but who actually shows up and follows through. It's those who make the effort and can be counted on that make all the difference. Now, don't get me wrong, I still believe in family, making an effort and reaching out to them. Even today, I still make attempts to connect with family members, despite knowing exactly who they are and how they tend to respond. Because I don't think trying is ever the wrong thing to do. But I also think there comes a point where you should stop chasing relationships that others don't seem to want to have, for whatever the reason, and instead focus your energy on the people who do, the people who answer the phone, who text you back, who reach out to you, and who consistently show up in your life, whether they're related to you or not. Because those are the people who ultimately become your support system. Those are the people who help carry you through the difficult times. And in many ways, those are the people who become your family. Okay, so that's my personal experience involving my family. So what are the takeaways on all of this that I just shared with you? Okay, so first and foremost, perhaps the biggest takeaway for me is that family isn't always defined by blood. Sometimes the people who become family are the ones who consistently show up, support you, and stand beside you when life becomes difficult. And second, I also learned that family doesn't always respond the way we hope they will. We often imagine that difficult circumstances will bring everyone together, but sometimes they don't. And sometimes people remain exactly who they've always been. And third, this is something we should all be mindful of. Instead of focusing on who wasn't there, I've learned to appreciate the people who were. Whether it's a spouse, a friend, a neighbor, or a family member, the people who consistently show up deserve more appreciation than they often receive. So make sure to value the relationships with those who are there for you always. And if you can also relate to any of these issues I have shared with you, then I hope this can be useful to you in dealing with your family. Just know that dealing with family is almost always failed effort. Life lived. In the next episode, I want to tell you about one specific day during my mom's dialysis treatments that perfectly captures why I worried so much about her being alone. It's a story that started with a simple request for help and ended with a phone call I'll never forget. So please make sure to join me for that also. Thank you for joining me today. Please make sure to follow this podcast if you haven't done so already. I'm Jack Hayden. Until next time.