The Things That Aren't the Caregiving

Two threads in the conversation looked different at first, then turned out to be related.

One person spoke about the wear of being on an HOA board. Another, separately, named the strain of dealing with a pet’s health issues on top of everything else. The board is volunteer work that was supposed to be a contribution. The pet is family. Neither one is the caregiving. Both of them are still expensive in a particular currency: the caregiver’s already short supply of attention, patience, and time.

When the Board Wears You Down

Many caregivers, over the years, have ended up on boards, committees, or groups they joined for good reasons. A condo board. A church committee. A volunteer organization. A book club that grew teeth. The work was meant to be a small contribution alongside a fuller life.

When the caregiving became central, those other commitments did not just shrink politely. Some of them got harder. Some of them turned dysfunctional, or always were and we had more bandwidth to absorb it. And the meetings still happen. The emails still arrive. The people still expect.

There is a particular kind of tiredness that comes from giving energy to a group that is not using that energy well. Multiply that by a caregiving load already at the top of what we can carry, and the math gets hard.

A few things some caregivers find useful here:

• Notice what each commitment is actually costing right now. A role that was sustainable a year ago may not be sustainable this year. Caregiving is a moving load. The volunteer slate has to be allowed to move with it.
• Separate “I joined for a reason” from “I have to keep doing this.” Both can be true, and they can also come apart. The original reason for joining does not obligate the version of you who is here now.
• Look for the smallest honest step down, not the cleanest exit. Sometimes the move is from chair to member. From two committees to one. From every meeting to every other. The body of work does not have to be all-or-nothing, and a step back is easier to negotiate than a full resignation.
• Notice the meetings that hurt. If a particular group regularly leaves you with a sore jaw, a racing brain, or a flat next morning, that is data. The discomfort is telling you something specific about cost.
• Take dysfunction less personally. When a group is not functioning well, more of your energy is asked for, often without saying so. That is not your problem to fix on top of caregiving. Knowing it is the group’s problem, not yours, can change what you spend trying to repair it.

There was no group consensus that anyone should leave anything. There was honest recognition that many of us have a category of obligation that drains more than it gives back, and that this is worth looking at, not ignoring.

When the Pet Is Sick Too

A different version of the same problem: the pet is not well.

The pet is not the care recipient, but the pet is family, and the pet is part of how the caregiver gets through. The lap weight in the evening. The reason to walk. The small body that is not asking us to do anything other than be near them.

When that creature gets sick, the caregiver has another set of appointments to manage, another set of bills, another set of decisions about quality of life, another set of medications to track. It is, in miniature, a parallel caregiving job, on top of the one already taking everything we have.

Some quiet acknowledgments from the conversation:

• Grief stacks. The illness of a beloved pet during a caregiving season is not a small thing on top of a big thing. It is a real grief at a time when there is very little room. It is allowed to be hard.
• It is okay to ask for more help with the pet than you usually would. A neighbor walking the dog for two weeks. A friend doing the vet drive. A pet sitter for a few days. People who cannot help with the human in your life can often help with the four-legged one.
• Costs are part of the strain. Veterinary bills can be substantial and unexpected. Many vets will discuss payment plans, and some areas have low-cost clinics, pet aid funds, or rescue organizations that can help. Asking is not a weakness.
• The decisions about your pet’s care belong to you. Other people, including well meaning ones, will have opinions. You are allowed to make the call you can live with, in the context of the life you are actually inside.

The thread between these two stories is small but real. Things that are not the caregiving still cost the caregiver. Recognizing that, out loud, is part of how we stop blaming ourselves for being tired.