How to care for yourself

when you're caring for someone else

This week, as I run precariously close to my publication deadline, I’ve had to turn back to the archive of forgotten drafts I start periodically - often in the bathtub or on an airplane….

This one struck me, as I had written it to send to someone else, and then uncovered a sweet little poignant usefulness this week. Maybe you send it to someone who could use a nudge?

1. Find a handful of text friends you can have in a little Chat or WhatsApp group to dump your thoughts/feelings/day-by-day into. Just a few folks who agree to witness your experience and take turns acknowledging. Bonus points for having someone on the other side of the world, or the other side of the schedule.

I don't know about you, but my mental gremlins are loudest at night, and contrary to Liz Gilbert’s suggestion that mental anguish resolves the moment you return to vertical, mine seems to fester equally in all orientations to gravity. In the dark moments of caregiving when you’re either trying desperately not to wake a person with your less-than-silent sobs, or pacing hospital hallways and stairwells and assorted lounges in search of privacy or a rogue grandmotherly type who can hug you, or someone who thought to bring eye makeup remover to the hospital.

You need people in your pocket.

2. Accept the generosity of others, unequivocally.
   
   People will bring you things like bananas and dog food and sweatpants, or take care of things like your dog or the rotting, festering mystery that was once a well-intentioned fridge full of groceries. Allow them. Thank them.
   
   Remember the things that were useful so that one day you can just arrive and just do the thing that needs to be done, without asking if the person needs the thing. They don’t know. They can’t know.

3. Eat three meals a day. See if you can locate anything from the vegetable kingdom.
   
   This is impossible, but also worth shooting for. Alternating fiber bars with protein bars will only sustain the body for so long. Actual meals containing vegetables are truly essential. I know this sounds simple, but on this last adventure, I found myself in the hospital cafeteria at the end of the day on a Friday staring blankly at a refrigerator full of sushi and sandwiches and - perhaps for the first time in my life - left with a ham, brie, and arugula sandwich, a bag of chips, and two yogurts. Find a vegetable. Ask for help (I should have).
   
   When you are using all of your brain sugar to make important decisions for someone else, let other people select your meals for you. Trust me on this.