Three days of respite care have provided me with a much-needed break from the routine, but as I sit down to express my thoughts tonight, I'm uncertain if my words will truly capture my current state of mind. Upon returning from a delightful three-day retreat with my son, his wife, and my grandboys aged 12, 7, and 5, at an indoor water park filled with an array of engaging activities, I am struggling with conflicting emotions.
The time spent with my family was undeniably wonderful. The children's infectious joy was a pure delight, and these days away offered me a level of relaxation that has eluded me for a considerable time. However, as I transitioned back, the word "home" felt less fitting. This house belongs to my father, not me, a fact that I was forced to accept two years ago when I took early retirement, relinquishing my own home and job.
My social circle has significantly dwindled, leaving me to navigate outings alone. I've reached a point where the prospect of dating feels like an additional burden I cannot handle, fearing more obligations and complications. Loneliness has become a palpable weight, and I've come to realize that it's possible to be consumed by it. Today, despite the memorable time I had away, I found myself waking up with a seething anger directed at the entire world. Throughout the day, I oscillated between fits of anger and bouts of tearful sadness, ultimately settling into a prevailing sense of depression. It's now evident that my life lacks balance.
The rejuvenating interlude was precious, but as reality reasserts itself, I'm unsure if I can contend with this situation any longer. My current state of mind hints at a perceived failure in my caregiving role, and the desire to step away grows stronger. However, the internal conflict remains: I cannot abandon my father at this juncture. Meanwhile, my own existence feels void of vitality. Approaching the age of 62, I find myself reflecting on a lifetime spent caring for others, all the while grappling with today's anger, depression, loneliness, and hopelessness.
Dulcie, your post resonated deeply with me, evoking a wave of emotion. You are not alone in these feelings; countless caregivers share this internal struggle. What you're experiencing is a profoundly common response. Yet, in the midst of this, I believe your body is signaling a need for change.
Let's delve into your options. Your current dwelling is your father's house. Is it under your name now, or does it remain in his possession? From what I gather, community services might not be accessible for your father. Permit me to play the devil's advocate here; I want to better grasp your situation.
Why do you perceive placing your father in a nursing home as a failure? Why do you place such high expectations on yourself, even when your physical, mental, and financial well-being are being compromised? Is it reasonable to anticipate handling this situation alone? Could placing your father in a nursing home be an acknowledgment of your humanity rather than an admission of failure?
Consider this: who will care for you if illness befalls you? And what becomes of your father if you are incapacitated and can no longer provide for him? The story of Keith, one of our fellow members, reminds us of the toll this caregiving roller coaster can exact. He tragically lost his life while struggling to step off it. Many caregivers, including those here, are caught in this same cycle, often unaware of the toll it's taking on their health.
I understand where you stand, and I acknowledge the complexity of your choices. The dilemma lies in reconciling self-care as a priority, without branding it a failure. Making the difficult choice of placing someone in a nursing home is not indicative of failure; it's a necessary step when the weight becomes too much for one person to bear. It's crucial to remember that caregiver burnout can lead to elder abuse and neglect. Let logic guide your decisions, even if they require a shift in perspective.
Please extend yourself the compassion you so willingly give to others. These are challenging decisions, and I am here to support you no matter the path you choose.
You might also like this article: