For Anyone Who Is Caregiving Right Now
One of the hardest things about caregiving is that you don’t realize it’s changing you while you’re in it.
The changes happen so slowly they’re almost impossible to see.
Then one day you look in the mirror and realize you’ve been putting yourself last for a very long time.
I prided myself for decades on putting my health and fitness first, driven by the belief that an empty vessel can’t pour into anyone -- or anything -- else. I was toned and strong. I felt good in my body. I looked good in my body. I slept well each night. I managed my stress through movement, good nutrition, and down time. I was proud of how I took care of myself.
Then came five years of caregiving for my parents. Four months into that journey, my father died. I became my mother’s full-time caregiver as she lived with Parkinson’s.
To be honest, I had no idea what I was signing up for when I said yes to caring for my mom. How could I? How can anyone? All I knew was, it was the right thing to do. And even the right thing has consequences you can’t possibly imagine.
One of the big ones: you won’t realize how slowly and incrementally you surrender parts of yourself to another person.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re caring for a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend, or child. It happens without you noticing.
Chronic stress changes your body. You begin storing food differently. If you’re a woman, perimenopause and menopause add another layer to the changes that happen. If you’re a man, changing hormone levels affect you too as you get older. You don’t sleep as well. Your eating patterns change. Even if you’ve always been someone who puts yourself first, you simply... stop.
And it’s not just your body that changes.
One of the things caregiving teaches you is that much of what you once thought mattered... doesn’t.
Dying doesn’t care about your socioeconomic status. It doesn’t care about your followers, latest product launch, or personal brand.
You begin letting go of things that were never serving you in the first place. Your priorities shift. Your value system shifts. The person you thought you were slowly gives way to the person caregiving asks you to become.
You may not see any of this while you’re living it.
The work you’re doing probably won’t be recognized.
You’re not going to gain millions of followers, if that’s your thing. You’re not going to receive a trophy or a Medal of Honor. You’re probably not going to open your bank account one day and find seven or eight zeros waiting for you.
Caregiving is not a path to millions.
It is a path to developing your character.
Your value system.
Your humility.
I am now nearly three months on the other side of losing my mom. Three months on the other side of five years dedicated to her care, to managing the home she loved so she could age in place, and to helping care for our family’s property.
Only now am I beginning to see what those years asked of me.
I never imagined caring for my mom would become part of my future. I was just living my life, caught up in my own plans.
Five years of watching her slowly decline became, arguably, the greatest lesson of my life.
For those of you reading this who are actively caregiving right now, or have been a caregiver in the past, I don’t know you personally, but I see you on a universal level.
I see you.
You may not realize how much this experience is changing or changed you.
I hope one day, when you’re standing on the other side of it, you’ll look back and see not only everything you gave...
...but also who you became.