Now that I filed taxes and got my parents settled in to their memory care community, I’m able to take a breathe and feel the weight of caregiving on me, on my now heavy heart. Struggling with the weight of caregiving for parents with dementia and a son with migraines while I live with bipolar disorder, the depressive symptoms of which threaten me now.
Hitting a bit of a depressive trough. Not up for much. Maybe, though, it’s not bipolar depression, but simply the weight of caregiving, a weight all caregivers feel. Pain. Sorrow. Mourning. Exhaustion.
Feel sluggish with this huge weight bearing down on me. The weight hangs there. The tears I hold back, but feel them just beneath the surface. I let them out only for a few gentle minutes at a time, holding back the flood for the long haul.