gasgage2
Through my practice as a psychotherapist and my role as a caregiver support group leader, I have met many people who describe an experience that I only recently have been able to name. This experience, which I witnessed first-hand as my wife and I found ourselves in supportive roles related to a chronic illness, has to do with two essential life forces operating at the same time.
I have named the experience exhaustlessness, being both exhausted and restless at the same time. I realize now that this is what I see on the faces of the caregivers who come to me for professional guidance. It is the look that says, “There’s so much to do and so little time to do it that the only thing I can do is to keep moving.” The physical manifestation is like taking a sleeping pill and an energy drink at the same time. The feeling of constant motion comes from the awareness that there always seems there is something else that can be done. The exhaustion comes from the exertion of, not just physical, but mental, emotional and spiritual energies.
In a purely physiological sense, this is a perfect storm; the collision of two powerful systems whose combined impact can feel like an emotional hurricane. The unleashing of this full-force gale of stress would, under different circumstances, leave one depleted and empty. Paradoxically, it also becomes the very fuel that gives one the wherewithal to make that trip to see the loved one despite eyes that are as heavy as the heart. It speeds up the thinking process that allows the multi-tasks of caregiving to be expertly juggled despite learning as you go. It fends off sleep as one sits bedside, ever watchful of a loved one’s every move.
The reason that exhaustlessness does not come with the Surgeon General’s warning of “Dangerous to health” is, I believe, due to the fact that it essentially arises out of a movement of profound love. Unrestricted caregiving runs the risk of burnout when the awareness of personal limits is ignored and exceeded. The heart-centered focus of exhaustlessness, on the other hand, provides a return on the investment of selfless compassion as the illusion of separation dissolves. The giver and receiver are one; we get what we give.
This is why is can be so hard to convince caregivers to slow down and why they often look sideways at anyone who tells them that they have to take care of themselves first. At a very deep level, the level where we are all connected, they are taking care of themselves as they move reflexively toward the needs of a loved one who is suffering. The well that feeds this force is unlimited, which is why many caregivers seem to perform miracles in their acts of service. It is the human body that has its limits and will, at times, need to drink from the same well.
is not surprising, then, that many of the caregivers I see are not looking for permission to slow down, but confirmation that it’s okay to continue on. Increasingly, I find myself leaning toward helping them see the forces at work within themselves and move in accord with their inner wisdom. Finally, I ask that they allow trusted others to shoulder some of the burdens that come while living in a state of exhaustlessness; a state that, like all others, will also pass in time.