My caregiving is over...

why am I still freaking out?

I haven’t really been able to eat in two days. My anxiety is through the ROOF! As someone who has a longstanding mindfulness and meditation practice as well as a therapist and medications to help me, this is kind of frustrating…and only makes me feel worse.

But, I’ve decided to be honest and open with my story, so here I am, telling it like it is.

I guess what I want other caregivers, or anyone in general, to know is that you can do all the things that you’re supposed to do to manage stress or anxiety (or fear or guilt or shame), but you are still going to feel these things from time to time. The point isn’t to never feel. The point is to know that you can, sometimes with help, get through the discomfort of those feelings. You are not alone.

Caregiving for my mom over the last several years was challenging. Every day was a struggle for her, and emergencies came as frequently as the mail. I got used to it. I learned, through therapy and mindfulness practices, how to stay present and not allow the emotions to take over so that I could make hard decisions on little sleep in the middle of an emergency room or outside the doors of an operating room.

Towards the end of her life, over the last several months, she became less able to make her own decisions and, I think, was too exhausted to keep trying to, so these moments became more stressful in my life. And then, in the end, I made decisions, considering her wishes, on how the last few days of her life would go.

I am still recovering from all of that and grieving from the profound loss of the woman who loved me the best she could for as long as she could.

In the stress and trauma of tough caregiving circumstances, we are often so quick to assume that it is the caregiving alone that is causing our burnout or the decline in our mental and emotional health. At least, that was often my assumption.

And yes, amidst my grief, there is a sense of relief. Not only is my mom no longer suffering, but I am no longer carrying the burden of her care, those hard decisions, the long nights, and the uncertainty.

And yet, many other aspects of life are uncertain, stressful, and require tough decisions and difficult conversations. And, if I am honest, these things produce a lot of guilt for me right now.

My sons are learning to navigate the world and complicated bureaucracies as adults. Whenever they struggle, my heart breaks a little. I wonder if I had been more present, more attentive in the last few years, if things wouldn’t be so hard now. I also know that they will be fine, and things tend to work themselves out. I remember being 20 and making mistakes and having to do things the hard way. It sucked, but I got through it. I know that the kids will be alright, as they say, but my already hurt and grieving heart is pretty fragile right now, so I want to go back and do a better job, to make up for lost time with them.

I am not sharing all of this with you so that you will feel sorry for me (or my kids)—we are going to be okay. What I am trying to say is that there are still difficult things to navigate after caregiving. We still have a life to live, families to love, and, yes, mistakes to make. I am learning how to do this one day at a time.

I cannot make up for lost time, but I can show up now. I cannot know the future, for myself or my kids, but I can know, and make sure they know, that I love them, I am their biggest fan, and while I can’t protect them from all the stress of life, I can help them navigate it and give them a safe place to land.

But that requires me to feel safe with my own emotions, even when they are difficult ones. So I am dusting off my caregiver stress toolkit and re-teaching myself how to feel my feelings without them controlling me. I am re-learning to accept what I cannot change and take action where I can. I am remembering that what others do is not up to me.

I am also reminding myself of something I had to come to terms with concerning my childhood with a mother who loved me but was often preoccupied with her own struggles. She did the best she could, but sometimes I needed more. I forgave her for that. I hope my children will do the same.