The Little Engine that Could(n’t)

My son loved the story of the little blue engine that pulled the train over the mountain so that all the boys and girls would get their toys and lollipops and good food to eat. He took it so much to heart that, when things were tough in his adult life, he would recite the mantra to himself: “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can,… I thought I could!”  He told me that it helped him to keep puffing along and climb what were at times some very steep mountains.

I have been meeting for a few months now with ten or twelve folks who, like me, are the primary caregivers for one or more loved ones. Most of us are products of the pre-boomer generation.  In other words, we’re very old!! Following a recent meeting, the story of The Little Engine that Could popped into my head, causing me to wonder if sometimes a children’s story that we and our kids cherish might not always hold a lesson that’s helpful.  In addition to the perseverance of the kind little engine that could and did help the stranded train, the story suggests another take-away; one I believe applies to me and others like me.

My generation, coming of age in the late fifties, was schooled to be independent, strong, reliable, with a can-do attitude, leading many of us to always “think I can”.  But what do you do when your loved one has a physical or mental disability and you are the caregiver, perceived to be the “well one”?  Although most of us are in our eighties and nineties, still it’s easy to buy into the notion that, “Well, since I don’t have X, Y or Z, I should be able to do this and that, and this and that, and just about everything else”.  More and more, I find this self-perception to be misleading, if not downright harmful.  Why do I fall into this trap?  Why do I always think I can?  Is my self-esteem so wrapped up in doing it all that it feels weak to ask for help?

Remember the Rusty Old engine in the story? The little toy clown and the dolls asked it to pull their train over the mountain. And the Rusty Old engine replied, “I am so tired. I must rest my weary wheels. I cannot pull even so little a train as yours over the mountain. I can not, I can not, I can not.”

Words to live by!! I don’t know about you, but I am going to put these words to good use. When I’m tempted to say, “I think I can, I think I can” when I know I shouldn’t, I’ll be like the Rusty Old Engine: “I can not, I can not, I can not,” and off I’ll rumble to the Roundhouse.