When I reflect on my journey as a caretaker, I recognize that for far too long, I was “Everyone Else’s Caregiver” while neglecting my own needs. I mistakenly believed that sacrificing my well-being was an act of nobility, a testament to my love for others. I kept my phone on at all hours, convinced that this constant availability demonstrated my commitment.
I remember sitting on a flight, listening to the safety instructions, and thinking, “How selfish!” when the attendant urged us to put on our own oxygen masks before assisting others. It’s almost comical now, but at the time, I genuinely believed that focusing on myself was an act of self-centeredness.
In my mind, I was a model of selflessness. Yet, I felt exhausted and resentful. The truth was that I was nurturing everyone but myself. Instead of tending to my own needs first, I sought validation through helping others, hoping they would reciprocate. This created a cycle of conditional love—a love that expected something in return. A heart that is neglected cannot truly give unconditionally, even if it tries.
As my unmet needs spiraled into an addiction, I found myself increasingly drained. The more I poured into others, the less I had to give. Amidst the turmoil, I kept waiting for someone to take care of me, just like I did for everyone else. My bitterness grew; I felt invisible. Yet, I continued my efforts, waiting for someone to notice and show me care.
It took many years for me to realize that no one was coming to save me. One afternoon, while driving home from work, I began to mentally catalog all the ways I contributed to the world. The weight of my sacrifices felt heavy. I thought, “Why doesn’t anyone see how hard I work?”
Suddenly, a stark realization hit me: “Jenna, no one is going to take care of you. If you don’t prioritize yourself, no one else will.” The truth was painful, forcing me to confront my reality. This was not a message of despair, but rather a call to take responsibility for my own well-being. My misguided selflessness was revealed to be a form of selfishness, and it stung.
As a mental health professional, I knew better. I understood the importance of self-regulation and the need to balance saying “Yes” and “No.” Yet, my habit of putting others first had gone unnoticed for years. That day became a pivotal moment. I learned that a person who is unable to prioritize their own needs, who habitually says “Yes” even when they mean “No,” is trapped by their own unfulfilled desires.
To all the caregivers out there—those who feel pressured to sacrifice their own well-being—don’t forget to put on your oxygen mask first. It’s unfeasible to support others with genuine love if you haven’t first attended to your own body, mind, and spirit. As caregivers, our greatest responsibility is to care for ourselves first. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. Allow trusted friends or mentors to support you, but don’t expect them to read your mind. Take charge of your own well-being, because, ultimately, no one else will.
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In summary, prioritizing self-care is not an act of selfishness; it’s a necessary foundation for being able to support others effectively. Acknowledge your needs, seek assistance, and remember that you are just as deserving of care and attention as those you nurture.