Dear Goldy,
I should’ve sent this letter to you weeks ago, but I didn’t. Hopefully it will make it to you in time for the chagim because that’s why I’m writing. I got busy—one thing to do after another—and none of them have to do with caring for my family because I’m single.
I’m in my upper 40s and moved from New York City ten years ago to care for my mother. Long story short: my brothers said they “have lives” and wouldn’t go back to Chicago, where we grew up, to care for my mother, who is in the late stages of Parkinson’s. My father is no longer alive. It’s just me and my three siblings. And for some reason, I’m the only one who cared enough to uproot my life—leaving a successful marketing career and a busy social life—to move home and take care of my mother. Again, long story short, I live in the same building as my mother. I have surveillance cameras in every room of my mother’s apartment so I can keep an eye on her and the eight aides I’ve handpicked, who are on rotations caring for her. I visit with my mother every day, take her to doctor’s appointments, read and daven with her, and make sure all her medical devices are working properly. Even though my mom eats via a feeding tube, sometimes I’ll take dinners and Shabbos meals over to her apartment and eat with her at the table, carrying the conversation. I’m also a therapist to all the aides I’ve hired because everyone has a story. They need to take a day off here and there because their child is sick, their boyfriend broke up with them, they want to take a girls’ weekend, they got into a fight with friends… and I’m easy pickings to vent to. All the while, I’m trying to work on the business I’ve created over the internet because, technically, I’m glued to my mother. The internet business helps me stay busy and earn money, but it keeps me in my apartment at the same time. My brothers call/FaceTime, but they don’t visit often, and I don’t go away on vacations because if I leave, who will take care of all my mother’s needs? If the aides know that I’m away… I check in on camera, have conversations with the aides through the camera, but it’s not the same. I’m able to get away every couple of months for a few days, but that’s it. It’s really taking a toll on me.
The toll is evident in many ways: the neighborhood I grew up in—where my mother and I currently live—isn’t as frum as it once was. All the friends I had growing up are either married or have moved away, so my social life is lacking. Then again, I’m always tired at the end of each day, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do something with someone—but with who? The singles here aren’t my type. I’m not a snob, but they just aren’t for me. I think you know what I mean. In NY, I was running around—social, busy with work, not a second to spare—and now… I’m here and not doing much, but trying to keep busy when I am able to get out of the house (I visit a local farm often, run on the beach, I shop…).
Anyway, it’s that time of year again when I begin receiving calls from rabbis in town inviting me for meals over the chag. I really appreciate the offers, but I refuse them. Why? Isn’t it better to spend some time over the chag with people besides my mother and her aides? Yes, but I have been a guest at these Shabbos and chag meals, and they are very awkward. Most of the time, I’m the only guest. I spend the meal answering questions about my life—particularly why I’m single. I receive the “compliments” about how good it is of me to give up my life to be there for my mother… and I hate that. It’s not a compliment. I feel that I have to care for my mom, but I know that doing so is ruining my chances of finding a husband and having children of my own—I’m 47!
I don’t want to be that girl—invited out for meals because people pity me for the situation I’m in. I’m already depressed, but it’s different when you see the faces other people make when they realize I really am trapped because I am the only child willing to care for my mother and there aren’t any good shidduch prospects for me in this town. Hashem must have a plan for me. I hold on to that. I hate to say it, but I’m giving up my life to care for my mother. I’m fulfilling one of the top five commandments at the expense of my own chances for creating a life and family for myself. So, I know that it’ll happen eventually.
I’m not going to these meals to be looked at with sad eyes. I don’t want my life to be the topic of conversation. I’m not the person to invite over so you can feel better about yourself: “I invited her out of her apartment and got her talking with people for a few hours.” If more people were invited besides me to these meals, there would be more opportunity for more topics to be discussed. But usually there aren’t—and I can’t ask, “Who else is invited?” when the invitation is extended.
I’m not crying in the corner about my life (all the time). I can get away for a few days every few months—not around the chagim, which is a stressful time—but this is the life I chose. I chose to come home for my mother knowing my social life and dating life would take a hit. I don’t want strangers or rabbis inviting me just to hear my story. These meals are awkward. I don’t feel like a loser because I’m here and my prospects are severely limited. I can’t feel like a loser. I can’t go down that rabbit hole. If I do, I may never come out. I know the life I live, and I don’t need to be invited out of pity or to be set up with anyone (because my mother is my priority now). If I’m invited with others—married people or other singles—it would be different, but nine out of ten times, it’s just me. I’d love to tell these well-meaning people they don’t get a mitzvah by inviting me if they’re asking me about my life and my mother and what life I had in NY. Most of the time, I thank them for thinking of me and ask for a rain check. I am much happier eating a meal with my mother next to me and then sitting down to read a good book.
Want to do a good deed and feel good about yourself at the end of the day? Then don’t call on me. I’m not that girl! Goldy, explain to “well-meaning people” that their efforts fall flat if they invite out of pity or curiosity.
Annie
*****
Thank you for your email, Annie. Hopefully, I’ll have it published in one of the editions around the chagim, but I can’t promise.
I’m just going to say, “Wow.” What you did/are doing is amazing. You don’t want to hear it—fine. But it is. I am friends with someone who moved back home in his mid-thirties because he was the only single sibling. He gave up living on his own and being a free bachelor to move home and care for his ailing and aging parents. Yes, there were aides and his siblings helped, but he moved back home to be there all the time. Unlike you, though, he still went out on dates and had a social life. He was living just a few miles away from his parents, so the move didn’t affect his life as much as yours did.
From reading your letter, I got the feeling that you may feel like you have the world on your shoulders. Caring for a parent isn’t easy, especially a sick one. No matter how many aides and how much help you have, you are still the daughter and she is still your mother. Kol hakavod to you—spending so much time with her, eating your meals with her, and all the time you spend with her. But I do feel for you because it sounds like you are isolated. Whether it is by choice or circumstance, you sound like you are dealing with a lot on your own. And the fact that you work at home further isolates you. But you are aware of it, and making it a point to get out of the apartment when possible is good. (Question: There’s a beach in Chicago? Where? Is it on the edge of one of the lakes? I’m just curious.)
Annie, you are absolutely right: You are nobody’s charity case. I wouldn’t want to go out to a meal with people if I knew they were doing it because they felt bad for me or if they were making it obvious that they were praising me and my life choices… no thank you. A meal with my mother and a good book sounds much better than going through that.
Annie, you are not that girl—the girl to feel sorry for. You are the woman who did what most people can’t or won’t. And yes, Hashem does have a plan. You must keep holding on to that. What the plan is, I can’t tell you, but He doesn’t do things without a reason. He gave you the opportunity to care for your mother for a reason. Your brothers lost out on it. Yes, they may call and visit whenever they make time, but you gave up your life.
I don’t think there is anything wrong with declining these invitations if you know that you’ll be the only one or that you will be the topic of conversation. Thank the ones who made the offer and politely decline. They can get their good deed of the day by helping someone else. They may not understand that, by trying to help you, they make you feel worse or can drive you down that rabbit hole you spoke of. Stay out of the yard! Don’t go near any holes! Maybe you can ask, in a roundabout way, if there will be others at the meal, or, if you can, mention that you don’t want to discuss your situation again. If they know you and what you did and are doing, why revisit it if nothing has changed? But no, nothing is wrong with graciously declining the invitations.
I would like to hear more about what you do for yourself when you get out of the house or get to go away for a few days. Yes, vacations can be tricky when you have others caring for your mother. There is always that fear that something may happen while you are away… but you check in via the cameras and communication equipment. You do all you can. So even when you are away on a break, you’re not really on a break. Maybe you can have your brothers visit and stay in your apartment when you’re gone. I’m not getting involved in family politics because that is a slippery path to head down, but I’m sure you do the best you can.
Please make sure to carve out time for yourself. I love that you visit a local farm and the beach. See if you can get one of your friends to take a few hours’ vacation from their lives so they can accompany you. Nothing is wrong with doing an activity on your own, but it’s nice to have company every once in a while. It’ll help your mood, too. Speaking to the aides all the time and being their therapist isn’t like speaking with friends and relaxing. And I am curious if you have someone to speak to, like a therapist. You are carrying a heavy load—you mentioned being depressed. A therapist may help you deal with issues and give you a different perspective on things.
Hatzlachah to you all.
Goldy Krantz is an LMSW and a lifelong Queens resident, guest lecturer, and author of the shidduch dating book “The Best of My Worst” and children’s book “Where Has Zaidy Gone?” She can be contacted at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Goldy is an experienced dating coach offering private sessions. To inquire, contact her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..