In March 2022, my father was diagnosed with a life-threatening health condition. The prognosis was uncertain. 

His nurse was optimistic about his recovery. But I had an intuitive sense that life wasn't going back to normal for him or me.

I was correct. 

A year and a half later, I'm still deep in the heart of the Shadowlands, companioning my father through that difficult journey toward end of life. 

The Shadowlands journey seldom starts gradually. You and your loved one are going along, living our life. Then, some health crisis air-drops you both right into unpredictable and unfriendly terrain. 

You find yourself on constant high alert. Your watchman-warrior self stays on guard even while sleeping.

Every “ting” of an incoming text sends your blood pressure skyward. And don’t get me started on phone calls.

No good news is delivered by a phone call these days.

It takes monumental persistence to stay on top of our loved one's health and daily care. 

I'd been here before, during my mother's dying year. 

And I always knew I’d have to return. That the trips would get more frequent as I got older.

And, I wondered, will my Shadowlands experience be different next time?

The answer is yes.

This time, the journey is proving to be longer and more complicated.

But I also have life coaching and end-of-life doula training under my belt. 

This time, i feel more empowered. 

And that makes all the difference.

Holding Space for My Own Emotions

The caregiver journey has signature emotions. Anger. Fear. Guilt, because we never believe we're doing enough.

These days, I know almost immediately when these emotions are reaching a boiling point.

And I know exactly what to do: I plant my feet and take a breath. I employ a method called “holding space,” which acts like a release valve on a pressure cooker. (I describe my personal technique in my blog post Holding Space for Ourselves.)

Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.~ Anne Lamott, writer

Holding space for my emotions is my #1 survival tool. It prevents me from bottling up my feelings, where they eat away at my insides like battery acid. It also keeps me from emotional outbursts that might burn bridges with others whose cooperation I need.

Taming Anxiety

Companioning a frail or ill loved one is fraught with worry about what lies ahead.

Will doctors prescribe unmanageable treatment plans? Will hired caregivers pay enough attention and keep my loved one safe? How will my loved one emotionally cope with life changes? How will I cope?

As these fretful questions emerge, my anxiety offers up one horrific scenario after another.

Yet, I take comfort in something I learned from walking this path five years ago.

My anxiety is lousy at predicting the future. particularly when it involves emotionally charged situations like illness and death.

The scenarios of doom that I can imagine almost never come true. Life will unfold in surprising ways, some better than I can imagine.

This uncertainty about the future is oddly comforting. And it reminds me that the best and only thing I can do is pay attention to things as they come.

Gainful Engagement for My Mind 

Anxiety is future focused. You worry about, and literally live through, all that may happen.

As every self-help writer will tell you, the best way to manage anxiety is through in-the-present mindfulness.

Hands down, the best and easiest mindfulness technique I know is problem-solving.

The question "What one step can I take right now to make things better" poses a tidy problem that will ease an anxious mind. Plus, focusing on solutions is the only way to find solutions.

Like all mindfulness practices, problem-solving slows us down. It gives us time to assess the situation, decide on empowered action, and choose our battles wisely.

Respecting Burnout 

This time through the Shadowlands, I'm more aware of my limits. I know I have to take care of myself if I’m going to take care of my loved ones.

Many of us hope we’ll die fast. That sometime, in the not-at-all foreseeable future, we’ll be taken out by a lightning bolt and never know what hit us.

Loving yourself isn’t vanity. It’s sanity. ~Katrina Mayer, author

The fact is, most Shadowlands journeys are a long haul. People can linger for months, even years, in the Shadowlands. And we, as caregivers, are right there with them.

I believe this slow walk is, usually, more of a blessing than a curse. A sudden death is quite hard on the surviving loved ones.

If we know how to manage the experience, our loved ones’ gradual end- of life affords them and us opportunities to make amends and complete relationships. It allows us to connect in a way that only happens in the shadow of death.

Plus, anticipatory grief seems to condition us for facing our beloved’s passing.

But I don't want to romanticize death and loss. Accompanying a loved one through death is almost always stressful and unpredictable. No matter how our caregiver experience plays out, we must commit to caring for ourselves.

Because self-care is the only anecdote for caregiver fatigue. It’s the only way we can continue to show up for our loved ones.

So, I’m committed to doing my tried-and-true self-care stuff. I spend time with friends who don’t need much from me except my company. I create simple things that require few supplies and little energy. I watch something funny every night before I go to bed.

Your self-care activities may differ from mine. But we all need to pursue our respite as though it’s as important as oxygen.

Because it is.

To My Friends in the Shadowlands

If you’re traveling through the caregiver valley of the Shadowlands, I hope you found comfort and helpful information in this Postcard from the Shadowlands.

And I also hope you know, you aren’t alone. I’m here, too. So are others who’re reading this post.

 Let’s all keep each other in our hearts.