Feed Your Caregiver Soul

I recently lost my Mother and Boston Terrier, Maggy, within a span of three weeks, so this may come across raw and possibly too much information (TMI) but I think it will convey an honest and real account of how as caregivers we need to be extremely mindful of our own self-care and feeding our souls.

My sister and I became caregivers to both of our parents in the Spring of 2020, during Covid. Caregiving first to our father when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, succumbing to the disease six months later, and from then to the present with our mother, who recently passed away at 91 years old. After our father passed away, we embarked on a journey of new surroundings, moving from Virginia to North Carolina, much healing, laughs, and tears along the way. Most importantly, fulfilling my mother’s wish to not die alone. After my father died my mom handed me a small note that read, “I don’t want to die alone Love, Mom”. A tiny note that at the time felt like an anvil handed to me.

You can analyze and rationalize what the true meaning of the note was, or intention behind it, and believe me, I did, over and over! By doing so I often denied myself the self-care I desperately needed. This slowly shifted when I acknowledged that there was nothing literal about the statement, “I don’t want to die alone,” and everything to do with accepting, loving, and understanding each other on this journey at levels we had never done individually or as a family. Caregiving throws family dynamics into raw and sometimes overwhelming chaos. It was during these times, of the greatest challenges, that we made leaps in our relationships and healing.

One evening when my mother and I sat at the edge of Town Creek, watching the gentle current of the water, my mom said, “I have always felt guilty about being stressed and not attentive as a parent when you were younger.” She continued, “I remember one day after a long nursing shift, you were screaming and crying for attention from a playpen, and instead of picking you up, I threw cookies at you, hoping to calm you down.” To which I replied, “I don’t remember, if that helps, I hope you threw Oreos.” Days after, I reflected on what she shared and promised myself, “Don’t throw cookies at Mom,” continue to show up, be present and listen.

The way I achieved this was through self-care, simply taking the time to do whatever your soul, body or mind needs to refuel. If you don’t, you will burnout and “throw cookies.” I learned my triggers and took steps to build self-care into our schedule, bike rides, hikes, yoga, therapy and most importantly fly fishing (daily). Caregiving has been one of the most rewarding and challenging undertaking in my life.

DON’T BE AFRAID TO ASK FOR HELP! We had a small amount of companion care, and in home hospice care, which was so helpful to our mom, but it also gave us the morale boost on the toughest of days and a shoulder to cry on as needed. My mom was in Hospice care for five months, and Hospice Care Center for the last week of her life.

Reflecting, the four years were tough, with lots of tears, and laughs. My Mom, Maggy and I drove nightly down dirt roads, seeking new fishing holes in rural North Carolina. She patiently watched as I practiced my fly-fishing cast. We listened to Barred owls call and watched the sun set.

Being present, listening and cherishing the intangible moments. “NOT throwing cookies at each other.” RIP Mom and Maggy.

Much GRATITUDE to Lili Fiore, for all of her guidance, support, and compassion along this journey!

ABOUT LISA MALONE:

My sister and I were full-time caregivers to our 91 year old mother, who recently passed away. I moved to Winnabow, NC two years ago. I love fly fishing, writing, and hiking with my Shiba Inu, O’Kami.