Not Running With Wolves But Walking With Women

This article was written by Sally Richards and won third prize in the Carers ACT Writing Competition 2004.

How do I care for myself while caring for my son? It's a good question and one that is highly relevant to all carers. Carers need to be resilient and they often need to be resilient for many years or even most of their lives. Resilience is comprised of many facets but one of the most important is being connected to many people who know and care about you and your life's struggles. Carers need to know that when they speak, others will listen and say "I am here. I may not be able to do anything about your life's struggles, but I am here to listen to you and offer you time, compassion, help if I can and advice and support if you need it."

Despite the many people in my life and my son's life who care about us, I still sometimes feel like running away with wolves - well just running away from home really, with or without the wolves. Of course, running away is not an option and yet I need to stay emotionally, mentally and physically strong to continue the caring role that has become the defining role of my life.

So one thing I do is walk with friends. We started walking in February 1988 and the walk has become a tradition. Three mornings a week, every week, for sixteen and a half years we've tramped the same route sharing all that nature has to offer us: the sunrises, the ducks and swans, the cacophony of cockatoos, the rain, the loud-hailing of the coaches urging on the rowers, the sun glistening on the lake, the mist rising from the water and the seasons; the colours of autumn, the frosts and icy blackness of winter, the first pussy willows of spring, the steamy stickiness of summer.

But more than this we've shared our lives. The Walk is the time we discuss our children, husbands, parents, siblings, schools, study, politics and jobs. We used to talk about toilet training and playgroup but these days we talk of party drugs, motivating our teenage children and the worries of ailing and elderly parents. We've solved problems too numerous to count between 6.30 and 7.15 on these three mornings a week. Someone always needs to debrief, ask for advice, tell a tale of hilarity or woe, pass on information or give the latest book, theatre or movie review.

The Walk is invigorating and fun and it has seen me through many a turbulent, depressing, angry, exhausted, frustrated time. I can thank the Women Who Walk for keeping me grounded and sane, for helping me keep things in perspective and for giving me the courage and tenacity to face life and all it brings. Through walking with me, the Women have an insight into living with someone who has a disability, know about the vagaries of Centrelink, the difficulties of creating a future for my son, what I mean by an "ordinary life", the hopes, dreams and fears I hold for my son and how plain bloody exhausting it can all be.

The Walk is also a barometer of the emotional or physical state of any of the other regular Walkers. If someone doesn't walk for a day or two, another Walker will phone them and say, "You've missed a walk or two or three; are you OK?"

Punctuality is vital. Be waiting for the mob to pass or be left behind. The Women Who Walk wait for no laggard. If you're not there as we stride past, run and catch up or slink back home. In winter, even 30 seconds late and we're gone, indistinguishable from the shadows, not seen at all. Often the only clue that we've passed is laughter echoing some distance ahead.

So, 17 years on we are as vital a group as we were when we began; only just a little older. It's a bit harder now to get up on those cold, dark, frosty, foggy, winter mornings but the thought of how fabulous and fit we'll feel by the end drives us out of bed with but a small whimper and a groan. We all realise that we'll have to walk forever if we are maintain some general fitness and mobility as we age, not to mention our mental health and robust immune systems.

For me, whatever the extent of exhaustion, grief, frustration or futility I happen to be feeling on any particular morning, the one thing that is an absolute given is that after I have pounded the circuit with my mates, I will have the good humour, strength and conviction to face and fight another day.

Sally Richards is the mother of an 18 year old young man who has a profound intellectual disability.

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"The best way to lose yourself, is to lose yourself in the service of others"

--Ghandi

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