The Feral Truth: Caregivers, Take Care of Your Damn Selves

I've spent years telling caregivers they matter too.

Apparently I should've been more specific.

Because somewhere along the way, "caregiver self-care" became synonymous with things like:

Take a bubble bath.

Practice mindfulness.

Try yoga.

Drink a green smoothie.

Light a candle.

Ma'am.

My joints hurt and I need an MRI.

I don't think kale is going to handle this one.

I'm currently in the middle of trying to figure out what's going on with my own body.

There have been appointments.

Bloodwork.

X-rays.

Specialists.

And now an MRI requiring me to wear an outfit that can only be described as:

institutional chic.

Nothing humbles a woman quite like standing in a medical facility wearing a gown designed by someone who apparently has a personal vendetta against asses.

And as I sat there waiting for my turn inside the giant magnetic tube of doom, I had a thought:

This is caregiver self-care too.

Actually...

This might be the most important kind.

Caregivers get really fucking good at ignoring ourselves.

Pain?

I'll deal with it later.

Overdue physical?

I'll schedule it eventually.

Need bloodwork?

After his appointment.

Haven't been to the dentist?

Listen, my teeth have had a good run.

There's always something more urgent.

Someone else's scan.

Someone else's medication.

Someone else's specialist.

Someone else's crisis.

And because we're technically still functioning, we convince ourselves we're fine.

Meanwhile, our own bodies are standing in the background waving increasingly large red flags like:

HELLO? REMEMBER ME? I LIVE HERE TOO.

That's the part of caregiver self-care I don't think we talk about enough.

Taking care of yourself isn't always relaxing.

Sometimes it's incredibly fucking inconvenient.

It's scheduling your mammogram.

Getting the colonoscopy.

Going to the dentist.

Seeing your primary care doctor.

Getting the weird lump checked.

Mentioning the pain you've been quietly living with for six months.

Refilling your medication.

Getting your bloodwork.

Making the specialist appointment.

And then actually showing up instead of canceling because somebody else needs something.

Again.

I understand why caregivers put themselves last.

I do it.

There are only so many hours in a day and only so much mental bandwidth available.

When someone you love is seriously ill, their needs can genuinely be more urgent than yours.

But "not urgent today" has a sneaky way of becoming:

"I've been ignoring this for two years."

And eventually your body sends a strongly worded follow-up.

Mine apparently chose joint pain.

Very professional.

Extremely persistent.

Would not recommend.

So lately I've been doing something I'm not particularly good at.

I've been becoming a patient.

I hate it here.

I much prefer being the person holding the folder.

I like asking the questions.

I like taking the notes.

I like being the one who knows what's happening.

Now people are asking me questions.

They're ordering my tests.

They're putting me into machines.

And I am discovering that I have significantly more patience for other people's medical bullshit than I do for my own.

Apparently this is another area for personal growth.

Fantastic.

But I'm doing it.

Because here's the uncomfortable truth:

I cannot spend years fighting to make sure the people I love receive good medical care...

and then pretend mine doesn't matter.

I can't tell caregivers to advocate for themselves while quietly ignoring my own symptoms.

And I definitely can't build an entire platform telling caregivers that they matter and then act like I'm somehow exempt from the policy.

Rude.

So yes.

Caregivers need self-care.

But maybe we need to expand the definition.

If yoga makes you happy, go to yoga.

Drink the green smoothie.

Light every candle in the house.

Take the bath.

Book the massage.

Do whatever genuinely makes you feel better.

But please don't let the cute version of self-care distract from the important version.

Take care of the body that's doing all the caregiving.

Make the appointment.

Get the test.

Tell the doctor what hurts.

Follow up when something isn't right.

Put your own name on the calendar.

And if necessary, put on the ridiculous MRI gown and take a picture because sometimes the only reasonable response to medical uncertainty is documenting just how spectacular your ass looks in institutional gray.

That's self-care too.

Probably.

The Feral Truth: Caregiver self-care isn't always yoga, bubble baths and green smoothies. Sometimes it's finally making the appointment you've been putting off and remembering that the person doing all the caregiving deserves medical care too.