Why “take care of yourself” is a challenge for caregivers like me
“You must take care of yourself.”
Wise and concerned friends have told me this since we first received Evelyn’s diagnosis.
I knew it was true. With them, I could name several caregivers who had died before the spouse who was supposed to be the sick one.
But I also think I may have been in denial. We’re doing fine. We have friends and share pleasant experiences. Sure, I’m taking care of myself.
But as time has passed, as my list of duties has grown, as the number of experiences Evelyn and I can share without stress has diminished, and with Dick Alexander’s “Shared Story” self-care testimony last week, I’ve decided I need to take the admonition more seriously.
One more duty?
But “take care of yourself” can feel like just one more duty to add to my list, and I have a hunch this is counsel ignored by many caregivers. With Dick’s post last week, I asked readers to share their self-care tips or discoveries. To date, I’ve not received one response.
Is this because the solutions to the self-care problem are easy or obvious? Does everyone know naturally why and how to care for themselves? I doubt it. A Google search led me to a list of “tips for handling some of the common challenges for caregivers,” and I’ll admit some of the strategies are new to me, but most of them are easily overlooked. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only caregiver in the “We Ignore Ourselves” boat.
I’m probably not the only one in the “We Ignore Ourselves” boat.
Dick framed the issue under three headings in his post: Physical, Emotional, and Spiritual. It occurs to me his advice is good for anyone, caregiver or not. So maybe you’d like to think with me as I survey how these are working for me.
Physically
This one’s a problem. I’ve never been an athlete, but I’ve discovered that a sweat-inducing walk around the neighborhood relieves stress and provides a perfect alone time for prayer. For years Evelyn and I have worked on healthy eating. And in warm weather I dig and weed and water the flower beds (but these days only in snatches, not hours, of time). Evelyn has been given some simple balance and stepping exercises to address Parkinson’s symptoms, and I tell her I want to do them with her for my sake as well as hers.
But it’s easy, so easy, to skip exercise. I need to stay on this.
Emotionally
I’m lucky to be able to tackle a variety of writing and editing projects in the mornings while Evelyn is still asleep. Although I’m hoping this website provides more than catharsis for me, it certainly does accomplish that. I want to believe the other projects provide some meaningful service, too.
This is all good if I don’t get myself into deadline stress. I’m wrestling with my tendency to take on too much.
I’m hoping this website provides more than catharsis for me.
As I’ve mentioned before, Evelyn and I almost never miss a week getting together with friends. In addition to our regular group, others have invited us to join them at a restaurant or even bring us a meal. It’s wonderful. We have warm and nurturing relationships with our kids, and I volunteer at a Christian social service ministry almost every Friday. I look forward to regular lunch or breakfast meet-ups with friends.
One caregiver advised me, “Try to squeeze some joy out of every day.” Perhaps this is the best prescription for emotional health. I want to write more about that soon.
Spiritually
I try to spend time reading from the Bible and praying every day, and probably actually accomplish this five days a week. I used to view this as a duty, something I had to do to stay out of trouble with God. It’s interesting to me how unsolvable problems and unresolvable trial have pushed me as never before to a power beyond myself.
My prayers are not polite or tidy. Sometimes I pour out to God my disappointments, my wishes I’m pretty sure won’t come true, or my total inability to make right so many unfortunate circumstances or inadequate situations I see all around me. Praying aloud while I walk allows my thoughts to tumble out of my mouth in a disconnected jumble, but God is the only one listening on my quiet suburban streets.
Some would call this simply a psychological exercise in self-help. It is an emotional release, for sure, but I see no reason to insist that’s all. Even though my prayer efforts are faltering and inadequate, I can’t imagine trying to cope without them.
No end in sight
In a way, prayer fits under all three headings, especially if I walk when I pray. It gives me a way to discover and evaluate all the pent-up sadness or disappointment or anger hidden silently inside. And it attempts to foster a relationship with the only One who sees the end from the beginning.
Acknowledging my place in the middle of that vast stream, admitting I don’t understand the flow and can’t see where it’s going, but believing God has not abandoned me there—that’s the best self-care I can imagine attempting.
So, caregivers!
How is self-care going for you?
Let’s share how we’re doing.
Tell us in the
comments section,
below.
Photos by Madison Inouye at Pexels, Ben White at Unsplash, and Jessica Ticozzelli at Pexels