Synopsis
I've been caring for people I love for so long that sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it. It's checking whether the car doors are locked because of my husband's ADHD and CPTSD. It's knowing exactly where he left his wallet so we don't have to search for it later. With Trish, it's walking into a space and immediately looking for the ramps, figuring out accessibility or automatically stepping in when she's about to transfer because I don't want her doing it alone.
None of these things feel unusual to me anymore. They've simply become part of how my brain works. But sometimes I would love to shut that part of my brain off, because when you're always thinking one step ahead for everyone else, it can be hard to figure out where you come first.
I Don't Even Think About It Anymore
There are things I do every day that I probably wouldn't have considered caregiving until someone pointed them out.
At home, I make sure the car doors are locked. I know where my husband's wallet is because I put it somewhere I know we'll be able to find it. I'm thinking ahead about the little things that might become bigger things later. Living with someone with ADHD and CPTSD has taught me to notice, remember, and anticipate things that might make our day easier.
Then there's Trish. My brain works differently with her, but it is doing the same thing.
I walk into a space and I'm already looking for the ramp. I'm noticing the entrance. I'm thinking about where we're going next and whether she can get there. If she's about to transfer, my instinct is to step in. Sometimes I'm lifting. Sometimes I'm helping. Sometimes I'm probably telling her not to do something because I've already decided in my own head that it isn't safe.
I don't consciously wake up and decide to do these things.
I just do them.
My Brain Is Always One Step Ahead
That's the part of caregiving that I don't think people always see.
It's not only the physical things you do for someone. It's the constant awareness running quietly in the background. I'm looking ahead, remembering, anticipating, adjusting, and sometimes solving a problem before anyone else even realizes there was going to be one.
With my husband, that might mean thinking about what could overwhelm him or remembering something I know he might forget. With Trish, it might mean arriving somewhere and immediately assessing accessibility before we even start enjoying where we are.
After enough years, it becomes second nature.
And there is something beautiful about knowing the people you love that well. I know things about Trish that someone who has just met her wouldn't know to look for. I know my husband in ways that allow me to recognize when something isn't right before he necessarily has to explain it.
But there's another side to knowing and caring for people that deeply.
Sometimes I Would Love to Shut It Off
I would LOVE to shut it off.
Not because I don't love them. Not because I don't want to help them. And certainly not because I wish either of them were different.
I'd like to shut it off because when I'm automatically thinking about everyone else, I don't always get to be first.
Sometimes I don't want to walk into a room and look for the ramp first. I want to walk into the room and notice something else.
Sometimes I don't want to remember where the wallet is.
Sometimes I don't want to anticipate what might go wrong, what someone might need or what I'm going to have to do next.
Sometimes I want my first thought to be: What does Jen need?
And honestly, that can be hard to admit. Caregivers are often expected to be endlessly patient, giving, and grateful that we can be there for the people we love. I am grateful that I can be there for them, but that doesn't mean there aren't moments when I wish someone else could carry the mental load for a little while.
Caring Comes From Love, But So Does Letting Go
There's another thing I'm still learning. When caregiving becomes automatic, sometimes stepping back is harder than stepping in.
With Trish, my instinct might be to tell her not to transfer without me because I'm worried she'll fall or get hurt. That response comes from years of knowing her, helping her, and wanting to protect her. But Trish is also an adult who gets to make decisions about her own body and independence.
Sometimes caring means helping.
Sometimes caring means watching something that makes me nervous and trusting the other person.
Sometimes caring means asking instead of automatically doing.
And sometimes caring means recognizing that my instinct to protect someone doesn't always mean they need protecting in that moment.
I'm still learning that one.
Where Does Jen Fit?
Maybe that's the question underneath all of this.
If care has become such a natural part of who I am, where do I fit into the equation?
I'm Trish's sister. I'm my husband's wife. I'm a business owner. I'm a friend. I'm my own person. Yes, I'm also a caregiver, but I don't want caring for other people to mean that I continually place myself at the bottom of the list.
I don't think the answer is to stop caring. I don't think I could if I tried.
Maybe the answer is learning that looking after myself doesn't mean I'm looking after them any less.
Because care really does change everything.
I just don't want it to mean that I always have to come last.
Key Takeaways
Caregiving can become automatic. After years of supporting the people you love, planning ahead, and anticipating needs can become something you do without even realizing it.
Care isn't always visible. Remembering, watching, planning, and preventing can carry just as much weight as the physical acts of caregiving.
Different people need different kinds of care. The support I provide my husband isn't the same as the support I provide Trish, but both require me to know the person rather than simply know their diagnosis or disability.
Sometimes caring means stepping back. Being a caregiver doesn't automatically mean stepping in, and I'm still learning when support is needed and when independence needs to come first.
Caregivers need permission to come first too. Loving the people in my life doesn't mean my needs should always be the last ones I consider.
Care Changes Everything, including the caregiver. When caring becomes second nature, remembering who you are outside of that role matters too.
Disclaimer - The Ability Company
The opinions shared in our blogs reflect personal experiences and viewpoints. They’re not meant to represent every journey or replace professional advice.
This content is for informational purposes only and does not replace professional advice. The Ability Company makes no guarantees about accuracy or completeness and is not liable for decisions made based on this content. Use at your own discretion.
