Caregivers in the wild

To be honest, when I first heard about Caregivers in the Wild, I didn’t think much beyond the fact that it meant I got to go to B.C. and do my favourite thing — be in the outdoors somewhere I had never been before.

But in those few days, I learned a lot about myself, most of that because it really brought me back to where I came from (the outdoors) and reminded me about parts of my life I don’t think about very often.

As soon as I met up with my travelling companion Chris, who was a Veteran and also an outdoorsman, there was an immediate sense of familiarity and a bond of friendship. It reminded me of the time I’d spent growing up in the woods with my dad.

One of the questions which was asked surprised me: “Did I think of myself as a caregiver?”  Although my father had served in the military, as had my stepfather, and both lived with posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) as a result, I had never actually thought of myself in those terms.

To me, what comes to mind when I thought of a caregiver was a nurse or some kind of personal support worker maybe. But, me? A caregiver? No, I was just doing what I knew how to do and what I had always done.

I didn’t realize how much I was doing that to me seemed normal and how well I adapted. It was really how I was raised: to interpret people, to help them work their way through whatever they were going through and then to calm down. It was really just a part of my life.

It was that sense of Family that my four days in the wilderness really reminded me of and ever since, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my Family. I think I better understand my roots and values and how those have shaped me and how I have adapted to having not one, but two, parents with service-related mental health injuries.

Maybe that resilience came from generations back. I know I’ve seen incredible examples from every person in my Family in different ways. My father and stepfather are very different people. My mother who fights for everyone to try to make it better. And my grandparents who were immigrants and found the courage to start again over and over. My grandmother who had multiple sclerosis and still lived independently until she died in her eighties.  Everyone in my life taught me something about courage in different ways, and I do believe that when dealing with harder times as we have had to do with our Family members having PTSD, those values they’ve lived have been passed down to me and my brother. It is just what a good Family is.

The time in the wild wasn’t new to me. What was new was thinking about myself and having that time to reflect on myself and my journey. It wasn’t something I’d ever really done before. What I learned was that even as a child I was able to process living with two parents with PTSD, when for most living with one would be challenging enough.

What I can say for certain is that when our time together was up, I didn’t want it to be over. I wanted to share more stories, to share more helpful thoughts and to continue what we were doing. It was fun.

And I’ve met a new lifetime friend.

— Nolan Underhill