“Resilience is accepting your new reality, even if it’s less good than the one you had before.” – Elizabeth Edwards

When I was in the blur of stress while being caregiver for my husband, raising our kids, and working full-time from home, I heard something on a podcast that shifted my perspective just enough to feel lighter.

Someone asked, “If nothing ever became easier in your life, what would you need to change to feel better?”

How long can I keep this caregiving up?

The initial thought of things feeling perpetually exhausting and sad wasn’t great, but the second part was interesting. There was a stretch of months where leaving the house was next to impossible. No care facility would take my 58-year-old, mobile, but totally dependent husband for a short respite stay. He would require too much attention. Consequently, I was on care duty 24/7 with the exception of two 3-hour blocks each week when a home care person helped out and I ran errands. It felt like his dementia was imprisoning both of us.

His nighttime pacing prevented me from sleeping for more than a couple of hours at a time, and I worried about him falling. I wondered how I would survive this experience without much of a break or sleep. I also wished I could be more patient with everyone.

Then, I heard that question, which made me change my small habits at home.

When I found myself mourning the old life when our family laughed together, traveled, or even just enjoyed dinner at the table instead of sitting in sadness and frustration for too long (I sat there for a bit, believe me), I looked for ways to enjoy a moment in our new existence.

What helped my stress.

I missed talking with him about life or the kids, so I wrote a letter to the healthy version of my husband. It felt better to express what I wanted to say, even just on paper.

During those moments of exhaustion, I put on music or a TV show and nodded off on the couch I placed bells strategically on doorknobs and a chair barrier I created near the stairs. If he got close to those places, the bells woke me up.

When he felt anxious, I got him to slow dance with me. It calmed both of us and felt nourishing.

I took him to the patio, and we enjoyed sitting in the sun for a few minutes.

I don’t know how I would have managed if not for little steps like these. They may have felt inconsequential, but every little bit of nourishing made a difference.

Want to list easy ways to manage overwhelm and exhaustion, or at least recover quicker? Having that resource nearby can be a great reminder that during this time when you are giving endlessly, you can still give to yourself enough to manage the enormity of caregiving.

I would love to hear about the small ways you nourish your soul as you care for your loved one.

Feel free to contact me if you’d like me to walk alongside you. It can feel so much better with support.