Who cares for the caregiver?

I saw my grandpa today for the first time since he went to the hospital. He's home now and able to walk around, but I'm finding that every time I see him, I have to fight back tears a little. He still knows who we are, but he can't always navigate in his own home and he just doesn't know what to do with himself. Tonight he marched around the room a few times to strengthen his legs, he said, and he kept saying that he's trying to get better so he can be like he used to be...When he could take care of himself and keep up with conversations, he means. I just don't think that's going to happen this time, and the fact that he recognizes that he is slipping away makes it a little worse.

It's hard on everyone, but it must be especially hard my aunt, since she now lives with him. I'm still living in her house, but she's not. She loves taking care of people and she's perfect for that job, but I just wonder who is taking care of her. My dad and other aunts relieve her occasionally, but they don't have that much time. Who cares for the caregivers? (Geek alert: Or, "Who watches the watchmen?," if you will. :-/ )

I guess I'm thinking about my aunt a little more because I relate to that on some level. For example, my good friend put together a girls' night this weekend to take someone away from her problems for a night. Now, this person absolutely 100% deserved it and I am glad that we did it, but I have to admit, I'm a little jealous. No one bothered to do anything like that for me during last year's hell. I mean, I had to call up some friends to go out the night I found out for sure that my hand was broken...which also happened to be the night before my birthday. We celebrated my birthday with taiko, which I am grateful for, but I honestly think that was the extent of any special "big night out" all year that I did not personally plan. I really don't like being at the center of those kinds of things, normally, but last year would have been an exception. It just didn't seem to occur to anyone, and it didn't occur to me, either, until now. Maybe they thought I didn't need it because except to a select few, I didn't talk about it. Whining has to be my biggest pet peeve and I am very careful not to subject most other people to it (only the lucky ones ;)). (For the record, the person we went out for was not whining, so I'm not implying that.)

Sometimes I feel like I'm always so ready to help everyone else and put my own problems aside that people assume that I don't need help--like I have to be the strong one because some other people have it worse than I do and I don't want to burden them. Certainly, I have some amazing friends that are always there for me, too, but I don't always make it easy for them to be there, either.

I want to take care of myself while offering unconditional comfort and support to everyone else, and it just can't work that way. I intrinsically absorb their pain, almost as if it were my own sometimes. It's like I tend to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, not because I choose to, but because I can't avoid it. I even care about the people that I realistically should not care about, but I am at least learning to cut ties with those that just don't appreciate or seem to notice my efforts.

That is the problem with an overly sensitive intuition--my empathy occasionally overcompensates where others lack, which has been known to lead to a disproportionate amount of give and take. Knowing that I might have helped someone makes it worthwhile, though. It's a double-edged sword.