The I.C.A.R.E. Series: The Part We Leave Until Last, But Really Need First

I am writing this from a lakeside spot that feels like the best medicine for my heart and soul. It's partly sunny in the mid 80s with a wonderful breeze. I am sitting in a comfy Adirondack chair overlooking the lake through the trees. Above me the trees form a canopy from which the birds are singing. The loons are calling in the distance. And for the first time in a very long time, I am not rushing to the next thing, solving the next problem, anticipating the next need, or trying to hold all the pieces together.

I am simply here. I am resting, breathing, being. I am allowing myself to be fully present in the peace and calm of each moment in this beautiful place that I love so much.

As I sit quietly, my thoughts emerge. Thoughts I haven't had for a long time. I find myself thinking about how long it has been since I put myself first. Not in a selfish way. Not in a dramatic way. Just in a, “What do I need today, in this very moment, to take care of my body, my heart, my soul?” sort of way.

It has been almost two years. What was supposed to be a few months of getting eyes on my dad and starting the difficult conversation about what might be next for him, has turned into an almost two year process.

Two years of caregiving decisions. Two years of worry. Two years of medical appointments, hospital admissions, rehab stays, medication issues, phone calls, family conversations, uncertainty, planning, waiting, adjusting, and being on alert.

And now that I am here, sitting by the lake, I can feel something in my body finally begin to exhale.

This was not where I originally planned to put the finishing touches on my upcoming book about caregiving. This is not where I planned to begin this blog series to introduce my new I.C.A.R.E. Method. 

I had originally planned to start at the beginning of the I.C.A.R.E. Method, with the very first step:
Identify Your Role.

That would make sense. It is the first step in the framework I created for caregivers and families who are trying to prepare before caregiving becomes a second full-time job. It is a crucial step to take before crisis hits and caregiving takes on a life of its own with no boundaries.

But as I sat by the water, I realized I need to start at the end.
With the E step. Empowered Caregiver Support.

The truth is, it is the most important step, however it is the step that most caregivers put last and may hardly ever get to. The other truth is, this is the step that women often put last early on in life, far before caregiving ever becomes a role for them.

The truth is, this is the step that I've put last for far too long. I've been taking care of others all my life. I was raised to do it. Professionally, I was trained to do it. As I got older and my parents needed support, it was natural for me to step in and do what needed to be done. And never before have I been so keenly aware of it right now, in this moment, while I sit back, take a deep breath, and hear my own thoughts in this quiet, peaceful spot.

This may have been prompted by an experience I had with a dear friend and very busy mom who took me to the grocery store this morning. 

Before we got to the grocery store, she had two teens to drop off at volleyball camp. Then she needed to shop for groceries for a client she does meal prep for. While we were in the grocery store, her husband called to ask her to pick up a few things at the hardware store that he needed for a job he was on. Then she needed to pick the girls up from camp, go home, put the groceries away, head to work for four hours, then come home, cook dinner for her family, and then get ready to do it all again the next day.
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Add in a little teen angst and attitude, and the whole thing easily tipped from full to overflowing. She was exhausted. She was stressed. She was carrying the weight for everyone who expected her to carry it, probably without even realizing how much they were asking.

As I listened to her, I recognized the pattern immediately.
This is not only about caring for an aging parent.
This is not only about caring for your family.
This is much bigger than that and it starts much earlier in life.

As women, many of us are raised to take care of others. We are praised for being helpful, responsible, capable, thoughtful, organized, flexible, and strong. We learn to notice what needs to be done. We learn to anticipate what someone else might need. We learn to adjust, rearrange, remember, organize, smooth things over, and keep going.

We do the next thing.
And then the next.
And then the next.
And at the end of the day, we are depleted, but there is still one more thing to do.

So whether a woman is caring for children, supporting a spouse, helping in the family business, managing the emotional burden of a household, holding things together at work, caring for an aging parent, or doing all of it at once, the theme is often the same.

She keeps going.
She carries what needs to be carried.
She figures it out.
She tells herself she will rest later.
But later keeps moving.

Eventually, the body begins to tell the truth. My friend shed a few tears as she shared her story. She thanked me for listening, although somehow, I'm not sure I was much help at all. I left her hoping she will create some time for herself to rest, rejuvenate, and recover from giving way too much to those around her. Perhaps she will choose to set a boundary around her time, her energy, her space and simply take care of herself for a bit. 

It's critical. More so than most of us ever realize until we're already burned out and depleted.

Caregiving does not begin the day a parent falls or receives a diagnosis. For many women, caregiving begins decades earlier, when we are taught the quiet habit of becoming responsible for everyone else’s needs.

That is why I am beginning this series with Empowered Caregiver Support.

Not because self-care is soft.
Not because it is easy.
Not because it looks pretty in a journal or sounds good in a workshop.

I am beginning here because caregiver support is often the first thing to disappear and the last thing we give ourselves permission to reclaim. And in caregiving, that matters.

A plan that depends on one exhausted person is not a plan.

A family system that only works because one woman keeps sacrificing her physical health, emotional well-being, finances, time, relationships, and future is not sustainable.

A caregiving role that requires you to disappear from your own life and your own self is not care. It is depletion dressed up as devotion or love.

This is one of the reasons I created the I.C.A.R.E. Method. I wanted a simple way to help caregivers and families think through the parts of caregiving that often get missed until there is a crisis.

And while E comes last in the acronym, it cannot come last in real life. Your well-being is not an afterthought. It is not a bonus. It is not something you get to consider once everyone else is settled, safe, comfortable, fed, organized, and okay.

Your well-being is part of the care plan. It is first and foremost. And it must not be put off until last.

I know how easy it is to forget that. I know how easy it is to say, “This is just a busy season.” I know how easy it is to say, “Once we get through this next appointment, this next transition, this next decision, this next crisis, I’ll take a breath.” I know how easy it is to override your own needs because someone else’s needs feel more urgent.

Sometimes they are more urgent. But if everything is always more urgent than you, eventually you become the emergency. That is the part we do not talk about enough. The caregiver can become the next person in crisis. The mother who carries everyone can become the woman who cannot remember the last time she felt rested. The daughter who coordinates everything can become the patient with high blood pressure, chronic stress, insomnia, resentment, anxiety, or exhaustion. The capable woman can become so accustomed to being needed that she forgets what it feels like to be nourished.

This week, by the lake, I am remembering.
I am remembering that rest is not a reward.
I am remembering that quiet is not wasted time.
I am remembering that my body has been carrying more than I admitted.
I am remembering that I matter too.

Maybe that is where caregiver preparedness really needs to begin.
Before the documents.
Before the emergency kit.
Before the medication list.
Before the family meeting.
Before the care plan.

With the honest question:
How am I really doing? 

Not the polite answer.
Not the capable answer.
Not the “I’m fine” answer.

The real one.
Am I hungry?
Am I tired?
Am I resentful?
Am I scared?
Am I lonely?
Am I stretched too thin?
Am I disappearing inside the role everyone assumes I will fill?

Am I waiting for permission to take care of myself?
Because if the answer is yes, that matters. And it deserves a place in the plan.

This is not about abandoning the people we love. It is not about refusing responsibility or pretending that caregiving is not hard. It is not about turning away from the needs in front of us.

It is about telling the truth before our bodies have to tell it for us. It is about recognizing that the person doing the caring needs care too. It is about refusing to build a life where depletion is the cost of love.

So I am starting at the end. With E. Empowered Caregiver Support. Because maybe the end of the I.C.A.R.E. Method is actually the place many of us need to begin. Maybe the first caregiving tool is not a checklist. Maybe it is permission to breathe. Maybe it is a moment by the lake. Maybe it is a quiet morning when no one needs anything from you. Maybe it is asking for help. Maybe it is admitting you are tired. Maybe it is telling the truth about what the current version of your life is requiring from you. 

And maybe, for today, that is enough.

One breath.
One honest question.
One small act of self-care.
Not for everyone else this time.

For you.

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