Held Together with Duct Tape

In this stage of caregiving—my "summer" stage—I feel like I've got it. I know what to expect day to day. Things are in check. We're handling the weekly routines.

But I'm just... off today.

Me, a non-crier, wanted to cry today. So I did what I usually do in these situations.

I ponder.

Why do I feel like this?

What's wrong—with me or in general?

What has me so unsettled?

It hit me.

The plumber was coming today.

He's a really good guy I've used before, back when my person was in the hospital. I had two small jobs that needed to get done, and he's a fellow caregiver, so I always feel good about calling him.

So why did I feel off?

Water. It brings back memories of two previous floods we've had in the house. Both were activating in their own way. That's where my mood was coming from.

I secretly held my breath when the water was shut off... and then turned back on again.

Bracing myself for the worst-case scenario.

But it's really so much more than that.

I miss having someone else to balance my fears against.

I was told I was overreacting because I stopped using the sink after discovering a small leak that had probably been there for months. Maybe I was.

But at the same time...I can't handle much more.

My identity has shifted wildly this year. Caregiving. Then unemployment.

Two major life changes I would not recommend happening in the same season.

Although I know it happens. Some people have to take unexpected time away from work, and in some situations they lose their jobs because they become "unreliable."

That wasn't my situation.

But it still hurts.

When meeting with a friend last week, I said, "I'm tired of being tested."

I've proven that I'm strong. I'm tired of proving it. I always push through.

As a Grief Educator, I'm invited to attend presentations by guest speakers. One spoke last night, and something they said made me think about how I manage grief. This speaker had been in the caretaker role when they lost their loved ones.

As I listened, I recognized that part of myself.

Take care of everyone else... Then worry about yourself. That realization also made me think about something I've been considering for a while.

What's the difference between a caretaker and a caregiver? They seem interchangeable.

To me, a caretaker performs the tasks of care.

A caregiver carries the responsibilities, emotions, advocacy, uncertainty, and love that accompany those tasks.

Both are valuable.

But they aren't always the same experience.

In this role as a caregiver, I miss having someone else to lean on. I miss having someone else deal with the unpleasant tasks I just don't have the energy to face.

But I also know I'm one break away from falling apart.

Always.

I don't know what will set me off. A few weeks ago, my dog Dexter was... tiptoeing. It's the best way I can describe it. I'd never seen him behave that way before, and it was odd.

I panicked. He almost ended up at the emergency vet. Instead, I gave him one of the prescribed pain pills we already had for him, and by the next morning he was completely fine.

But the way I reacted... It was as though the situation was far bigger than it actually was.

My reaction didn't match the moment. And that's the point.

I really don't know what will push me physically or emotionally anymore. I just know the line is thin. I don't want to cross it. Or have it cross me.

So for now...

I'm holding it together.

Even if it's with duct tape.