What a caregiver’s burnout may look like

  • Missing work
  • Working weekends
  • Crying over a box of Pringles
    She ate my bedside Pringles. The Pringles I save for my medicine-induced hunger-sleep pangs. She didn’t ask. I came back to an empty box, thrown on my bed. I got angry. My brain, in the anger, unable to treat my mental health well, told me this was stupid. So I just sat on my bed & cried. I didn’t look at her, I didn’t talk to her all evening.
  • Curling up into a ball & crying after every episode of Atypical
  • Yelling at her
    I get tired of her demands, the unrealistic nature of her allegations, and so many allegations. My illness shadows my empathy for hers. I yell at her, and tell her she is inconsiderate & self-centered.
  • Being scared of attya coming over
    Her sickness is my trauma. Everything related to it triggers my PTS. So her triggers are my triggers.
  • Crying on work calls
    I am tired of people applying the majoritarian rules/beliefs/politics to me. I am not a part of the majority. I don’t have the care my mother needs or I need at hand. At the peak of upheaval/sickness, I travel 12 hours, minimum, to an urban area to seek expensive care. I didn’t have a childhood. I am living an adulthood trying to develop basic mind modules. I am teaching myself to remember to eat, to develop a healthy relationship with eating, to deal with someone talking loudly. I am learning to accept love.
    I fail often, listening to people tell me I am wasting my life. I don’t have the energy to tell them that majoritarian priorities don’t apply to me. So I sit in my room & cry, till the next crisis needs me to rise.
  • Forgetting self-care
    I did not take my morning medicines for a week straight. I am not sure it can be called ‘forgetting’ if it happens for only half the dose, & for 9 days in a row, maybe I should call it ‘neglect’ or ‘self-medication, subconsciously’. Or a cry for help, one that says You take care of Me now.
  • Doing fidgety activities
    Panic Prachi is useless. She can’t help a Manic Mumma. So I do mindless repetitive activities that will calm me for a while, help me muster enough energy to force sanity, calm down, say sorry, & buy a new box of Pringles.

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