Dear Caregiver, Are You Taking Care of Yourself?

In 2020, I spent a lot of time ruminating on some of my worst (health) fears. I was worried about falling sick, about my parents contracting coronavirus, and about bad things happening to the people I loved.

In 2021, all of these fears came true. A week before my 26th birthday, I came down with a severe throat infection. A couple of days later, my grandfather passed away from cardiac arrest. The next evening, my father was running a high temperature, wheezing, and had to be rushed to the emergency room. He was hospitalized for moderate pneumonia and tested positive for Covid-19.

Between emergency calls to the hospital, my father’s fluctuating vitals, and no sleep, the days that followed got worse. Seven out of my nine family members — including me and my mother — tested positive for Covid as well.

Each of us had different symptoms and constantly worried about passing them on. My mother’s coughing fits grew more and more frequent over the course of the week, and my aunt and I could barely get out of bed in the mornings. Every sneeze turned into an emergency call to the doctor. One time, while checking my grandmother’s oxygen levels, I mistook the pulse reading for oxygen saturation, got frazzled, and ended up calling for an ambulance. The panic that hung in the air made everything hazy. Our patience ran short, and our bickering became background noise.

When you’re an anxious person, nothing is scarier than being trapped in a spiral of your own negative thoughts. This is what I used to believe until those thoughts turned into my reality. Even though I’d played and replayed the possibility of this situation in my mind a million times — what I would feel, think, say, and do — I didn’t feel prepared when it happened. Before I could come to terms with one surprise, another hit me. My reaction was to set emotion aside and focus on what I do best: planning and organizing.

I cleaned. I cooked. I ordered groceries and medicines. I set up a Google sheet to track our oxygen, temperature, and blood sugar levels daily. I really thought that I had it under control. But then, in the middle of it all, my cousin called.

After our initial small talk about the family’s health and how unfortunate the situation was, he asked: “So … how are you holding up?”

I paused. I said I was fine. I boasted about my A+ planning skills.

“Often, we take care of others and forget to check in with ourselves,” he said. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself too.”

For so long, I’d thought of my emotions as obstacles that I needed to overcome, as if they were internal conflicts with clear and tidy resolutions. The truth is that I was exhausted and scared. I needed a lot of sleep. I was also angry about the way things were turning out in my life. In my state of fatigue, I decided to give in and, finally, talk about it. And talking felt really good.

My family got through this very difficult time, but as I write this article, India is going through a terrible second wave of Covid. A mutation of the virus has been traced, more people are getting infected, and a lot more lives are being lost. Hospitals are running out of beds, oxygen and medication are in short supply, and there is little respite.

In response, nearly four in ten, or 39% of millennials in India, have taken on caregiving roles for the first time — the highest proportion in the world. Indian caregivers, who spent around 12.6 hours per week on care before the pandemic, are now spending 24.6 hours per week looking after their loved ones.

Caregiving has always been hard. However, since the pandemic, it’s been especially harder for young people. In the global survey conducted by Merck KGaA, Darmstadt, Germany,  77% of caregivers ages 18 to 34 said the pandemic has made them feel more burned out than ever before, compared to 57% of caregivers aged 65 and older. Eighty-nine percent said they put the needs of the person they’re caring for over their own, and financially, 22% said they had to reduce their working hours to fulfill caregiving responsibilities.

If you’re someone who has been taking care of your parents or family during Covid, here’s what I want you to know: Looking after your loved ones can take a toll on your physical and emotional health, and making time for yourself is necessary. Your emotional needs may seem like vague, inaccessible things. But they’re not. Sleep can be an emotional need. Keeping in touch with supportive friends can be an emotional need. Sometimes even eating well can be an emotional need.

With that in mind, here are a few things I wish I’d known when I was caring for my family earlier this year.

There are no silver linings. 

One of my pet peeves during the pandemic has been toxic positivity. It refers to the mindset or belief that despite experiencing emotional pain, one has to stay positive. Most of us feel forced to put on an optimistic face while dealing with difficult situations, even when we don’t feel that way.

While it’s natural to try and find things that keep us motivated during a crisis, it doesn’t always have to “look positive.” When my family and I were infected with Covid, I received many messages from people telling me to focus on “bright side of things.”

“At least your family is together during an emergency.”

“At least there is no lockdown right now.”

And my personal favorite, “This crisis is only going to make you stronger.”

Honestly, none of these well-wishes made me feel better. I’d seen so many unfortunate situations back-to-back that my mind refused to believe it was going to end. Worse, if things didn’t start to improve, I didn’t know if I would have the emotional bandwidth to deal with it. My mental health situation was flailing, and all I wanted to do was make it through.

Once I acknowledged my real feelings, I was able to work on doing that — and this was much easier than pretending like my traumatic experiences were prefaces to later epiphanies and life lessons.

It’s okay to ask for help. 

Asking for help makes me feel vulnerable, something I’m not always comfortable with. But this time around, I didn’t have a choice. I was clueless about a lot of things: How much of my father’s expenses would insurance cover? How do we access the banking services of a deceased person? How do I take care of someone with Covid while staying safe?

The only way I could make decisions was to get more information — and that meant asking for help. I spoke to relatives and family friends I wasn’t close to or hardly knew. I spoke to banking and insurance officials trying to figure out the paperwork. I even sat through daily calls from the government health officials monitoring our Covid situation. Initially, I would ramble on, not knowing how much to share and what to disclose. It was awkward, upsetting, and sometimes, just uncomfortable.

Surprisingly, though, everyone was willing to help. Neighbors sent home-cooked meals, pharmacies delivered medicines at wee hours of the night, and friends were always willing to chip in, when required.

Take a break from work. Immediately. 

I had just got back to work after a week of sick leave when my grandfather passed away. Then, I took a couple of personal days off. To reach out again and ask for more time wasn’t the easiest. I remember struggling to write a message to my boss because I wasn’t sure how to talk about the situation “professionally.” I wondered if I should lead with the most recent events or talk about my state of mind.

How detailed should the message be? How do I ask about the leave policy? Should I email or Slack?

Given the uncertainty of the situation, I also had a hard time knowing what to ask for. So, in my initial message, I told my boss that I had “yet another piece of bad news” and would need a few more days off of work, but I would get back to them on the exact request in a day or two.

I took a couple of days to really think about what I wanted: I would need to be on leave for two weeks and would like to check if the company policy would allow for that. I told them that things were still uncertain at home, but I would keep them updated. And, finally, I told them that I would need help with my daily tasks while I was away.

Sharing personal information at work can feel tricky, but losing a loved one or falling sick is a part of life. The reality is, we will all experience them at some point. Personally, reaching out for support from my managers made it easier to articulate what I needed and clarify expectations.

Share the chores at home, if possible. 

This is tough when you’re a young caregiver or live with older folks who may need extra support. But apart from the physical labor of cooking, cleaning, and running the house, there’s also the emotional labor that you will be taking on.

You will likely need to stay updated on any news surrounding the virus and educate yourself on how to care for someone with a disease we know very little about. When my family was infected, I would spend hours Googling the latest research, information surrounding the medication my dad was being administered, and adding hospital emergency contacts to my phone on speed-dial.

All of this will be harder if your family is grieving.

Remember that everyone is tired, and no one is at their best. Even if your family is normally amiable, there will likely be more misunderstandings, arguments, and words misfired than usual. What helped my own family cope with our individual emotions was sharing the responsibilities.

We divided the day-to-day chores and hospital work. A couple of the healthiest members took over preparing breakfast. We did laundry on rotation, and everyone contributed to cleaning around the house. We tried to keep the afternoons free to take naps or get any paperwork in order.

Hang on to the ones who make you feel supported. 

I had a couple of friends who checked in with me every day, listened to my rants, and didn’t judge me for the thoughts and feelings I needed to share. Reconnecting with my friends in this way made me realize how a lot of them had been through similar struggles — both related to Covid and otherwise. Listening to their experiences was heartbreaking and heartwarming simultaneously. One thing was clear: I was not alone. We were all struggling in our own ways.

It can be overwhelming to reach out to people or share what you’re going through, so don’t force it if you’re not ready. Give yourself the time and space you need. But do stay in contact with those who make you feel safe, visible, and accepted — regardless of what you choose to discuss. This could be a friend, a colleague, a relative, or even a parent.

While I was grateful for every single text, call, and message I received, I also didn’t want to burden others. Of course, I needed a space to vent, but as someone who’s been on the other side, I know that venting can quickly turn into emotional baggage for the listener. When you reach out to a friend for support, make sure you consciously draw boundaries. Ask them how they are doing, what their day was like, and if it’s okay to share something heavy or potentially triggering.

Using work as a coping mechanism is fine — but you need to set healthy boundaries.  

I’m a Type-A Aquarius and take a lot of time to process emotions. I also like to stay busy. I bury myself in office work. I try a new recipe. I find new, long TV shows to binge-watch. Sometimes, I just draw stars on a sheet of paper to distract myself. Taking on work or trying new things makes me feel grounded and in control. There’s a sense of movement and accomplishment in doing things that keeps me afloat.

But when I returned to work after taking my sick leave, I wasn’t able to do as much. My body was weak, I needed my afternoon nap, and I was still juggling responsibilities at home. In my first week, I just did the most important tasks on my to-do list. I ended up re-working my schedule. I’d wake up early and work a little, do some housework, and then spend a few hours at night wrapping things up. It’s been a couple of months now and I’m still finding my rhythm.

During this time, I’ve also realized that my emotions often find space for themselves in the mundane. (My therapist is going to be so proud reading this.) Have you ever cried about a random life situation while watching a TV show? That’s me. Feelings, for me, happen in flashes. While making tea. Before going to bed. In the middle of an edit. They can be fleeting and quick. They can also be piercing and linger on for a while.

The thing is, everybody has different coping mechanisms — and that’s okay. It’s important to make sure that you’re processing things in a way that serves your physical and mental health. Reach out to a professional for help, if you can afford it. If that’s not accessible right now, connect with people who make you feel supported.

If you’re struggling to prioritize yourself, consider this article a gentle reminder to check in with the most important person in your life — you. The world may seem like it’s falling apart, but you are doing great. You are doing the best you can.

Editor’s note: The opinions expressed here are for general informational purposes only. If you have concerns about your mental health, we recommend you consult with a medical professional. Alternatively, you can seek assistance by contacting the national mental health hotline in your country. Here is a country-specific list of hotlines you can reach out to.