At some point, many caregivers look up from the work of caring and realize they are not sure who they are anymore beyond this role. The job, the friendships, the interests, the parts of life that existed before the illness — they have all quietly receded as caregiving has expanded to fill every available space.
This is not a failure of character. It is what happens when a crisis becomes all-consuming. But it is something worth noticing, because a person who has dissolved entirely into their caregiving role is at significant risk of collapse — and of having very little sense of self remaining when the caregiving eventually ends.
You are a person with a history that predates this illness. You have interests, preferences, relationships, and parts of yourself that exist entirely separately from your role as a caregiver. These are not luxuries. They are the infrastructure of your identity, and they need some maintenance, even in the most difficult seasons.
This does not require grand gestures. It requires small, deliberate acts of self-continuity. Reading something you enjoy, even for fifteen minutes. Calling a friend to talk about something other than your loved one's illness. Maintaining a practice or hobby that is yours alone. Wearing something that makes you feel like yourself. These small acts of remembering who you are beyond the crisis matter more than they might seem.
Seek out relationships that are not organized around your caregiving. This is harder than it sounds — many of the people in your life relate to you primarily in the context of what is happening with your loved one. Finding space to be in relationship with people who knew you before, or who know you in a different context, reminds both of you that you exist in multiple dimensions.
When the caregiving eventually ends — through the patient's recovery, or through loss, or through some other shift — you will need a self to return to. The more you tend to that self throughout the caregiving period, the less disorienting the return will be.