A Recovering Caregiver

I'm now a Recovering Caregiver. My therapist (yes, I'm seeing a therapist--decided it was more desirable for a paid professional to hoist me out of my emotional sewer than imposing that awkward task on friends or family) says I'm grieving, that it's normal for caregivers to grieve when the subjects of their caregiving are gone (whether by death or by geographical relocation--in my case, it's the latter).

I'm not big on grieving. I have things to do. Allowing myself time to grieve is not one of those things. But, as my therapist explains, I must allow myself time to grieve.

I'm working on that.

I thought this would be an easier transition. Maybe a few bumps here and there but all in all, quick and easy. I was wrong. From the moment I get up in the morning, until the time I finally go to bed at night, I wage an ongoing battle against the continuous stressors and structure that USED to define my day. That USED to define what I did, how I did it, when I did it. That USED to define.......well, everything. Including me.

It's amazing to me that I am having so much difficulty in sliding into a life without caregiving. A life in which I take care of just.....me. I seem to have forgotten how to do that.

Don't get me wrong. I don't constantly walk around hanging my head, a wad of damp Kleenex in my hand, bloodshot eyes, unable to function. I'm doing as much work as my project manager will send me, I'm playing with my dogs (they still seem to be confused by this....), I cook, I workout regularly. On the surface, I'm the picture of health. But inside my head....that's where the real battle wages. My therapist says I need to allow that battle to happen outside of my head.

A tall order....