Caregiving the Caregiver

How do I take care of myself to be the best caretaker?
A question that is constantly on my docket because this 24/7 gig is enormous. Because…I don’t have siblings in the state who are close by or necessarily willing to step up, show up and be the caregiver for an afternoon much less a weekend. Many would blame it on the fact that my siblings in this state are brothers not sisters – however, I personally know of two outstanding men who have stepped up and became wonderful caretakers for their parents…so I’m not going to be sexist here. At any rate, I was recently sick for a couple of days. I had vertigo. Couldn’t walk without help. Had to have someone come pick me up because I couldn’t drive. I just wanted to be alone at this time. My parents were worried about me and this just made me more depressed. I tried from my bed to remind my Mom to take her pills, and as much as she tried to remember, she still forgot. This made me more anxious. A few days later I got better. So now I want to stay healthy because being sick when my parents need assistance is terribly stressful, and pretty much unhealthy for all. How to continue to stay healthy? I’m going to start taking a day off at a time but tell my parents I’m going to work. They don’t quite understand my desire to have alone time at this point in time. Easier to lie at this point. Their dependency at this time doesn’t allow for logic. I have to choose my battles wisely. I still have my former apartment which I continue to rent for short jaunts away from living with my parents on a full time basis. This little flat is my tree house rising high alongside a big maple tree – my haven amidst the chaos and stress of being chauffer, patient advocate, referee, caregiver, and…oh yeah, working full time. It’s quiet there, – I like to just sit and “be” there without being on-call. This is where I remember who I am, so I can be more of that when I go back to my “other home” with my parents. These memories also serve to remind me that there will be a time when my life is my own again …this is a bittersweet thought, because that will mean my parents have passed. What I am attempting to convey here is what a tightrope this role is to walk – full of ambiguity, and knowing fully that having compassion for both my parents and myself is the only saving grace.