Hi TGV,
When my husband was first diagnosed, I told him I would take care of him no matter what. I meant it with my whole heart. I still do. But it’s been four years now. Four years of medications, doctor appointments, helping him dress, bathe, and eat. Four years of never sleeping through the night. Of missing weddings, dinners, even just long walks outside.
I’m exhausted. Not just in my body, but in my spirit. I’m scared of resenting him. I love him too much for that. But I also love myself. And I’m wondering if hiring someone—even just for a few hours a week—would be the compassionate thing to do for both of us.
I miss reading a book without worrying he might need something. I miss long baths, long naps, and long thoughts. I miss myself.
But then I hear his voice in my head, reminding me that we said we’d do this “just us.” And I feel the guilt creep in like a fog. Have I already failed him by needing help? Or is this what love looks like too—recognizing when your best includes letting someone else step in?
I don’t want to feel like a caregiver before I feel like a wife. I want to show up for him without losing myself in the process.
Trying to do right by us both,
A Caregiver With Limits
