Life can be a bit tricky as an unpaid carer for a loved one. You tend to get the wrong (I believe that’s the polite version haha!) end of the stick on a fairly regular basis.
I co-care with other loved ones and have no idea how people manage single-handed. It’s tough as a team, so my hat goes off to them.
Your life revolves around that person’s needs and can be thoroughly exhausting, especially if they have picked up an additional illness. Something that sounds relatively simple to deal with, like a chest infection for example, can spiral out of control. It can literally knock an individual off their feet and requires an even more rigorous care routine. Trust me, the average daily input is gruelling enough.
I’m not complaining, just stating the facts, and in the interest of a balanced insight, there are many rewards. The thank yous mean so much, as do the little gestures. I’ve been touched by the kindness shown to me lately. The person I care for has been putting my hand on the rail so I don’t fall over, washed my arm with the flannel and has been tidying my clothes and hair up. Returning the favours I believe and demonstrating their reciprocal care.
There is one thing that I would like to highlight, and that is self care.
I’m guilty of neglecting this. Caring can be so intense that you have very little energy to do the little things for yourself that you don’t think are that important. It turns out they really are…
I barely recognise myself in the mirror anymore, my greying hair, unkempt eyebrows (I’m considering starting an Oasis tribute band haha!) and my extra weight all contribute to a bit of a confidence dent.
It’s not just cosmetic though, more importantly my body is suffering and I was ill to start with…
I find myself in a bit of a viscous circle now, the toll on my joints, muscles and ligaments has gone a bit too far. The minor injuries sustained through caring (rightly or wrongly) have conspired with my low energy (CFS/ME) and natural aversion to exercise (largely down to experiencing fibromyalgia). I chose rest, believing it was more sensible than pushing myself and risking further injury. I just stuck with caring, and reduced the amount of movement I did. As care needs increased, as did my need for dopamine which was sated mostly via chocolate or ice cream.
It doesn’t take a genius to work out where that weight came from, which in turn affects my joints and my energy.
I’m writing this after a week or so of not being able to move properly. My glutes are weak and my back has been compensating for this. Getting on and off chairs has been agony and it has limited my ability to care.
I’m under the care of a physio now (my body had been getting worse & luckily I had asked for help before I reached this crisis point). His intervention is easing the pain gradually. I’m making time to do the daily exercises he set me, am following his advice on how best to position my body whilst caring and am trying to do a couple of short hobbles every week.
He said that my body was building up to this. I really regret not practicing self care in a more sensible way. There’s still room for sweet treats and rest but they aren’t the priority. I’ve learned that I’m not able to care for anyone else if I don’t care for myself. And I’ve learned it the hard way.
Have you had any similar experiences?