The Woman You Forgot to Care For

How many times have we looked after everyone else, but forgotten to take care of ourselves? It seems to be a common practice for moms. Last year I finally went to the doctor. I’d put it off and put it off because I don’t have health insurance, and since my hub’s stroke, his health care has been my priority. That makes sense to you, right? It made perfect sense to me. EXCEPT…

Well, I’m diabetic. I’ve gained a few pounds in the last three years since his stroke, and I didn’t have any room to gain weight. I ignored it and just bought new clothes. I honestly didn’t feel like my needs were a priority, and let’s face it, when you're learning to take care of someone who’s disabled, it’s exhausting, especially in the first few months.

I half-heartedly tried to take care of myself. I mean, I bathed, almost daily, and sometimes I brushed my hair. When I thought about it, I even watched what I ate and tried to make sure I was drinking enough liquids, etc. At one point, I even started drinking health supplements to bolster my health. But realistically, I wasn’t putting any real effort into my well-being. And it wasn’t only affecting my physical health; it was affecting my spiritual health.

I was worn out, but I refused to take a break, and realistically, for quite a while it wasn’t an option. It sounds strange to think about it now, but after Larry’s stroke, I wanted more than anything for things to go back to “normal.” So, with a very sick husband, two high school daughters I was trying to unschool, and monumental life changes, I pressed forward just like things had always been.

I jumped into teaching a ladies’ Bible class. I used to teach a class. Why not? It was something I loved to do. I also took an extra Bible class on Thursday nights that the congregation was offering, and I suddenly started teaching a children’s class on Wednesday nights.

In secular life, I decided to become involved with the local Citizens Police organization because new friends had asked us to join. (They’d let us borrow their vehicle, so I had to join, right?) This meant classes once a week from the police department for an entire semester (I got college credit), and then meetings twice a month every month for a year until I realized what I hope you have already realized about me, but we’ll get to that.

I had started to volunteer with the local Girl Scout troop (love them or hate them). My girls were very involved with scouting from before they started school, and in Virginia, they were in an excellent troop. I didn’t want them to lose that part of their lives after our medical relocation, but I couldn’t keep up. I never even attended a meeting. It was just another thing I piled on that I felt guilty about because I was spent.

And I was still trying to keep up with my Facebook group, Church of Christ Women Authors. Before his stroke, I had been doing weekly devotionals for YouTube, promoting as many books written by female Christians as I could, striving to help everyone meet their publishing goals, and feeling guilty when I couldn’t get it back to where it was pre-stroke. I was still trying to build my writing career as a nonfiction author and a fiction author, which meant long hours writing and lots of time spent away from doing other things.

I was speaking on ladies’ days, as many as possible. (It’s one of my favorite things to do!) I did three in the first year after Larry’s stroke. I wanted things to stay the same. I was trying to juggle as much as possible, as I always had, never considering our lives had changed completely. Life was hard. I was making it hard. I was putting everything else before my mental and physical health.

So, I guess it should be no surprise that I had a mental breakdown. I couldn’t stand to be in crowds. I’d get nervous, shaky, and start crying—sometimes for no reason. If we were shopping, I’d have to leave. I got to where I didn’t even want to leave the house.

I would bawl my eyes out during sermons or classes because I was tired and felt empty inside. I honestly felt like the worst sinner ever, and I was doing nothing wrong. I was eventually diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), but at the time I was trying to overachieve in every area of my life and giving myself no time to heal or to find peace (Philippians 4:7). Looking back, it’s all so clear, but in the moment, I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. I felt so alone, but I wasn’t (I Peter 5:7). I know that now.

We all have our problems, the demons that chase us in the back of our thoughts, those things that nag at us, but there comes a time when we have to realize enough is enough and that the best thing to chase them away is a little self-care. To be the best women we can be, we have to find healing and peace. And while peace comes from God (Psalm 29:11), we have to let it work within us. Sometimes that means we have to slow down and let it.

We have to realize we don’t have to be everything to everyone. We can say no. Saying no doesn’t mean we don’t love other people; it just means we have to say no.

We have to become women of prayer (Philippians 4:6), and not just quick prayers said before we sleep, but prayers that are heartfelt and meaningful, where we truly talk to our Father. I’ve started writing my prayers in a prayer journal; my prayer life has exponentially grown since I started doing this.

We have to realize that we are all women. Some bear the moniker wife or mother, but all of us have the same basic needs. We need to know and understand love (I Corinthians 13), and we need to feel appreciated. Let’s strive to make sure our sisters know we care about them (I John 3:11) and let them take care of us when it’s our turn of need. Don’t be the woman suffering in silence when others want to help.

I want to encourage you, no matter where you are in your life today, to take a deep breath and find the beauty in a slower pace. Enjoy the world God has given us, and take that spa day you’ve always dreamed of, or at least light a candle and pour yourself a hot tea or coffee. Self-care is crucial. Make it a priority!

Take a deep breath.