Caring for elderly parents can cause severe burnout: Author Jennifer Folsom

Ever since I started caring for my parents last November, everyone around me has been warning about burnout. And this month, I ran straight into my healing wall.

In my daily life, I have a full-time job that I love as a growth leader in a government management consulting firm. My second shift is mom of the “Folsom Frat House”. I and my husband are trying to keep our 15 year old son on track while “jumpstarting” our 20 year old twin sons who are living at home and have decided college is not the right path for them.

And although life has always been a jugglery, things were kind of on the right track until last November when my 75-year-old mother suffered a stroke. My parents lived independently, about two and a half hours away. Prior to the stroke, my mother cared for my father, who is mostly bedridden with a variety of diagnoses. This stroke, and a second two months later, propelled me into the primary role of caregiver with such speed and shock that I’m surprised I didn’t get whiplash.

After a few months of getting their finances in order, minor renovations to create accommodation on the first floor of their home, and building an incredible local care team, I was finally able to catch my breath. My brother and I alternate care every other weekend and they have 24/7 in-home care during the week.

But the ongoing management of their daily lives, from paying bills to scheduling appointments and caregivers, to making difficult decisions about courses of action and medications, began to rattle me. I developed persistent neck and jaw pain from grinding my teeth. My stomach became upset with every hiccup in our care plan. Despite all the support in the world, for which I am so grateful, the you-know-what hit the fan last week when we found out that our financial plan to pay for my parents’ home care was in limbo.

I was mentally out of shape and knew I had to take a break. I was inspired by a college friend who became a first-time mom later in life at the start of the pandemic. His sanity plan is to take short solo trips. And so just like that, I ran away to the beach.

With the support of my amazing manager who approved four days off without notice, my husband who agreed to hold the fort, and a caregiver whose availability opened up and was able to take my weekend shift for my parents, I booked a small one-bedroom cabin in my favorite beach town, Chincoteague Island in Virginia. At 47, it was my first non-professional solo trip, a trip just for me and about me. I packed a stack of books, my bike and my beach umbrella and hit the road.

It has been glorious.

My family has been coming to this little island since 2008, and while I loved every minute of those memories, they weren’t what you would call “relaxing.” There were always meals to plan, clothes to wash, fights to mediate, hurts to kiss, water bottles to refill. It’s true what they say, mom’s job (my favorite and most important job) is never done.

There is simplicity in being able to jump on my bike, go to the beach, read and eat what I want and when I want. At one point, I found myself on my favorite bike path, adjacent to a taco stand. I placed my order of shrimp ceviche and pork tacos, freshened up with a Paloma, and read my book at the standing bar.

“You look like you’re alone, do you want to join me?” a woman asked me, a brunette with beautiful tattoos on her forearms. She oozed both freshness and openness, and a seat in the shade, so I joined her. Sharing that this was my first solo trip, she said, “Stop it. I’m also on a momcation!

How had I not heard this term before?

We discussed tortilla chips and our shared desire to “just get away”. Nothing fancy, not for long, but just a break to remember who we are, what we like to do when we don’t have to cater to everyone’s needs and wants, and reset.

The Covid-19 pandemic has harmed all women, especially mothers and caregivers. So much complicity. So much fear and anxiety and caring for the sick, all while juggling homeschooling and, more often than not, full-time work.

I learned that caregiver burnout is real. And if you don’t deal with it, you – and your family – will feel it.

I’m going home soon. But my blood pressure is down, I sleep an average of nine hours a night, and the jaw clenching pain is gone. And Kimmie, my new mom pal, and I are here to encourage you to do the same. It doesn’t have to be far, it could be a hotel in your home town for one night. Maybe it’s just an evening just for you. But take a break. Go away. Remember who you are when you’re not caring about others.

Jennifer Folsom is Vice President of Growth at ICF Next. She lives in Alexandria, Virginia with her husband Ben and has three sons. Her practical guide to modern working motherhood,“The Ringmaster” is out now.