I knew everybody else's appointments.
I could tell you when medications changed. I knew what groceries were needed. I knew which calls were still waiting for a callback.
I could not remember the last time I had made an appointment for myself.
That realization was almost funny.
Almost.
The disappearing act
Caregivers can become astonishingly efficient at removing themselves from their own lives.
We skip meals because there is no time, then eat whatever is closest. We cancel appointments because something more urgent appears. We stop returning friends' calls because explaining everything takes energy we do not have.
The body keeps receipts.
Mine started presenting them.
Fatigue. Headaches. Irritability. Forgetfulness. The strange feeling that even rest had become another task I was failing to complete correctly.
Self-care is not always pretty
I had grown suspicious of the phrase “self-care” because it often arrived packaged as one more thing I should be doing beautifully.
I did not need a perfect morning routine.
I needed lunch.
I needed to take my own medicine on time. I needed an appointment I had postponed. I needed somebody else to sit in the waiting room for once.
That was care too.
Sometimes caring for yourself is deeply unglamorous. It is asking for help before you are desperate. It is saying no. It is going to bed with dishes in the sink.
It is remembering that the person everyone depends on is also a person.
You do not preserve your love by destroying the person doing the loving.
For today: You do not have to solve the whole journey from where you are standing. One honest breath, one request for help, one ordinary act of care can be enough for this moment.