The Caring Adult Child’s Manifesto for Supporting Aging Parents

I’d like to reclaim the word “manifesto” and restore its original meaning as a soul declaration of belief and intent, one that grounds me and steers me when I become unmoored or overwhelmed by emotion and chaos. I wrote two manifestos years ago: one for self-help junkies and one for claiming a brilliant intentional career.

The current season of my life prompted me to write one about supporting aging parents, and I offer it here as a possible template for those of you in the same situation. Please hold it using the famous principle that AA made famous - take what you like and leave the rest. It’s a work in progress, so I may come back here and modify it as I continue along this sacred and tender path.

• I do not owe anyone anything. Everything I give, I offer freely from my heart.

• I never need to explain or justify my decisions, behavior, or experiences.

• I exist within an ecosystem, one that I can turn to for support. My parent has an ecosystem, too, one that includes me but is broader than just me.

• My emotional healing around my parent exists on my terms and my timeline.

• I debunk the myth of always having to show up as my best self and instead commit to showing up as my whole self, which sometimes has the urge to whine, vent, rant, meltdown, tap out, escape, and behave like a child. I can attend to and manage those urges - I don't have a license to splatter on others, but I do have permission to attune to myself, attend to my own care, ask for help, and take breaks.

• I draw upon the wisdom of Prentis Hemhill: "Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously." And I liberally employ emotional boundaries around my parent.

• I acknowledge grief's presence here as my parent ages and begins to decline. I know that grief shows up for me when someone/something I love, adore, cherish is disappearing or has disappeared, and I turn towards grief as a messenger of what/who I hold sacred. I want to participate in honoring who/what matters to me, even when it hurts. 

• Unless I am asked or there's evidence of impairment, I don't interfere in my parent's path and choices. I'm living my life, not my parent's.