Caregiver Stress Syndrome

"Everything will be better after you place him," they said. But it isn't as though the stress and trauma and worry have abated. Not one bit. It isn't as though I put my head down on the pillow and fall asleep for 8 hours. It isn't as though I wake up refreshed and relaxed. Far from it. Everything is not, in fact, better. Not at all.

I live in dread of the phone ringing early in the morning as it did last Saturday, telling me my husband was ambulanced to the nearest emergency room because he couldn't breathe. I go to sleep and wake up two hours later, drenched in nervous perspiration, feeling my heart beating its way right out of my chest, having another panic attack. If I do happen to sleep a bit longer -- say, for four hours -- I have disturbing dreams that prevent me from dozing off again.

There are an embarrassing number of things on my to-do list that have been there for months. But I either feel too exhausted to think of doing any of them, or I just don't care. And then I become overwhelmed at the long list of items waiting for my attention. A simple phone call becomes an ordeal to be anguished over for days before the receiver is lifted and the number dialed. Any decision to be made, no matter how simple, might as well be a climb up Mt. Everest. Every challenge must be ruminated over for days, lest the wrong decision be reached. And so analysis paralysis sets in, preventing any decision's being made at all.

The irony of all this is that I am not a shrinking violet, I am not a person who can't face things head-on, and I am not a wimp. Usually. But the ongoing, unrelenting, daily trauma of this situation is wearing me down in spite of my best efforts to enlist support, talk out my feelings, deal with my emotions, and pray for guidance from the One Who can help me best. Sometimes, the skies are brass, the clouds are thick, and the rain pours down unabated.

You'd think that having once hit the wall, that would be that. I didn't realize I would be slammed against the wall again and again, over and over, a figurative punching bag for every emotion passing by. There's nothing "post" about this daily, ongoing, never-ending tension.

Caregivers, does this sound familiar? Please do yourself a favor. Talk to a professional. That's what I'm going to do tomorrow.*

*Update:  I did it. It was worth it. Do it. Do it sooner than I did.