5 Unexpected Ways Being a Caregiver Has Taught Me To Take Care of Myself

A welcome surprise from an already-fulfilling job

The most obvious perk of being a personal caregiver is that I get to see the fruits of my labor firsthand.

Even if I were working for a super-altruistic company that prided itself in helping and giving back to the public, I might be working an office job or customer service position, where I don’t get that direct satisfaction of interacting with the happy person on the end.

But with caregiving, and most healthcare jobs in general, you get to see your hard work pay off almost immediately. You get to witness just how important and valuable you are to a person’s life, and just how much joy they get from living theirs.

I already knew this even before I became a professional caregiver, and it was one of the aspects which attracted me to the job in the first place. I could never get behind sitting behind a desk all day like most of my family, who are all software engineers of one sort or another.

I also knew that I was the type of person who admittedly needed a little bit of a push to do things sometimes, even if I knew they were for my own good, i.e. exercising, eating healthy, working, etc.

Basically, I have a good amount of inherent laziness, and I need to force myself to not be stupid sometimes.

So when looking for what kind of job would suit me, caregiving sounded like the perfect fit, because it would provide me with much needed physical activity, as well as give me the satisfaction of helping another person in need, something I’ve always enjoyed doing.

But what I didn’t know was all the unexpected, extra things I’d start to learn in the process.

Strategy and adaptation

The person I support has cerebral palsy, and has extremely limited control over his body. He can nod his head yes or no in response to a question, he can relax his body if he focuses really hard, and he can weight-bear pretty reliably, meaning he can lean against someone without falling over.

But he can’t walk on his own, or eat on his own, or do many other activities most of us would consider normal without a considerable amount of help.

He’s in a wheelchair for a majority of the day; 4 different ones to be exact, depending on what he’s doing. And it’s my job to transfer him between these wheelchairs.

For context, the person I support weighs about 100 pounds.

I weight about 125.

I am absolutely not that much heavier than him, so trust me when I say that lifting him was more than a challenge when I first started.

I was in training the first week of my job, and the previous caregiver stuck around for that time to show me the ropes. He showed me all the little nuances and things I’d have to eventually remember in order to take care of the person I’m supporting, including the places he visits on a weekly basis, the things he likes to eat, certain mannerisms that mean different things like needing to go to the bathroom, being frustrated about something, etc.

He also taught me his method of transferring the person I’m supporting to and from his wheelchairs, but the problem was, the previous caregiver was easily twice my size. He could pick up the person I’m supporting in a second and not even break a sweat, even holding him with one arm. And when he was teaching me how to do the same, externally I was calm because I didn’t want to seem unprepared for the task.

But yeah, I was unprepared for the task.

There was no way I was going to be able to lift the person I’m supporting the same way the previous caregiver was instructing me to, and my fears were confirmed when I tried to use his method for the first week.

I’m not kidding when I say my arms burned from exhaustion every evening after work. I had never even been to the gym a day in my life, let alone try to lift 100 pounds over a dozen times a day like I was used to it. I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing, or that I wasn’t up for the task, but I knew that I definitely needed to find my own way of doing things if I was ever going to be comfortable in this job and not hate going to work.

So, the first week I got to try working on my own without any supervision, I started experimenting.

The previous caregiver taught me to start lifting the person I’m supporting starting with his arms, so I tried doing it from the shoulders instead.
I tried bending my knees to get into more of a squatting position before lifting him.
I tried switching which arm I was using to balance him from his waist and which arm I was using to hoist him up from his leg.
I tried using my own knee as a stabilizer against his.

Some of these things worked, and some of them didn’t. But the point is, over the course of weeks and weeks of trying new things and implementing different strategies, I slowly developed my own methodology for transporting him that worked for me, and that didn’t make me feel like I was completely incompetent and had bitten off more than I could chew.

My determination to find a strategy that worked for me, and my willingness to adapt, were more important than how strong I was, and these things make me that much stronger every day, both in my work and in my personal life.

Steady hands and staying calm

I could never be a doctor.

If someone’s life was on the line and it was my responsibility to save them, I guarantee you I would egregiously nick some artery the second I even tried to perform the simplest of surgeries.

I’ve been a jittery person all my life, never being able to sit in one spot for too long without getting antsy, never being able to keep my hands still without fidgeting with them, biting my nails, cracking my knuckles, etc. I even had a couple of those fidget spinners and fidget cubes as a kid to try and curb the problem, to no avail.

And this proved to be an issue when I was starting my job, because one of my responsibilities is to feed the person I support. His favorite foods are usually some sort of soup, or a simple sandwich like peanut butter and jelly. But it’s important that the spoon sits against his tongue and in his mouth a certain way, or else he could choke, and the same goes for solid foods, which have to sit in the side of his cheek a certain way.

I was so scared that I was going to f*ck up and accidentally kill him when I first started. My hands would shake so bad and I would constantly be wondering if I was doing something wrong or not, especially when his parents would be there and correct me on little things I could be doing better.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated their help a ton, and the fact that they were super supportive of me learning how to best take care of their son.

But knowing that their eyes were on me made it that much more nerve-racking. I didn’t want to mess up in the slightest.

But day after day, week after week of repetition, I’ve noticed that feeding him takes less and less time, and that I’m getting smoother and more confident with my motions. My muscle memory is slowly starting to conform to the movements without me even having to think about it all that much.

Staying calm and learning the steps makes any process easier, especially with repetition.

Patience and persistence through pain

The person I support is usually pretty good at dealing with his emotions, both positive and negative ones, but sometimes he can get overwhelmed, just like the rest of us.

When he gets really excited about something, there isn’t really much to do except let him calm down so he can control his muscles a little bit more and communicate effectively.

But when he gets frustrated that he can’t express himself fast enough, or sad about someone he misses and can’t see, or feels any other negative for a prolonged period of time, it can be hard for him to focus on things like exercising at the gym, doing homework, or anything else he may have to do.

He’s extremely effective at identifying why he’s feeling a certain way, but it’s hard for him to calm himself down and remind himself that things are going to be okay, even if it doesn’t seem like it in the moment.

And these are the times when I’ve learned the power of patience, persistence, and positive affirmations. Telling the person I support that the reasons he’s feeling upset are valid, letting the emotions take their toll and subside in their own time, and reminding him of things that we can do to alleviate the pain, are all ways that I’ve learned really help the storm pass.

The power of environment and community

The person I support lives a very active life. He goes to school, the gym, the pool, out for walks, attends dance and art classes, etc.

And before I really got to know him, I was admittedly a bit confused as to how he was able to accomplish all of these things.

And the answer is: help.

His art instructor takes time to ask him what colors he wants to use, what brushes, what kinds of patterns he wants to make, what reference material he needs from the internet, what canvases to use, where to draw each and every mark, etc.
The physical therapy places he visits like the gym and pool both have special equipment designed for people with conditions similar to his, so that he can enter and exit the pool safely and stretch his muscles without the fear of falling over.
The schools he goes to are full of students with disabilities like him, and all the teachers and staff are trained to help each student with their specific needs, with respective charts for each child that list their unique traits and requirements so that everyone is aware.

And when I’m at the gym or pool with him, it makes me want to exercise, and when I’m at school with him, it makes me want to learn, because that’s how inspiring it is to see him thriving in an environment of people who are just as determined to succeed and live a meaningful life as he is.

Gratefulness and self-sacrifice

It sounds kind of strange to say, but I’ve developed a sort of parental attitude during my time as a caregiver. I’m constantly attentive to how he’s feeling or what he needs, and I’m always thinking of new ways to make his day better or get him out of a slump. If I’m tired, I know that he’s probably tired. If I’m hungry or thirsty, I know that he’s probably hungry or thirsty.

I make sure he has what he needs first.

And on the days when I’m feeling too tired for the physical strain, I’m grateful that I get to exercise myself by helping him.

On the days when I’m not looking forward to getting up at 6 in the morning to get ready for work, I’m grateful that I have a job I don’t hate, and that allows me to help someone to the fullest extent.

On the days when I don’t feel competent, I’m grateful that his parents are courteous and gracious enough to allow me to f*ck up without berating me for it, and willing to teach me how to improve.

And whenever I’m feeling down or depressed, I remind myself of the power of perspective, and of something that the person I support said to himself one morning I came into work: