When these relentless 24/7 caregiving periods set in, the toll they take is immediate and profound. Fatigue sets deep into the bones, accompanied by grumpiness, listlessness, and a quiet discouragement that can easily overwhelm the spirit. It is precisely at this juncture that her internal self-alert system triggers a vital realization: it is time to fundamentally shift gears.
Drawing an analogy from driving a heavy vehicle up a steep mountain pass, she compares the experience to needing more power to clear an incline. Rather than flooring the accelerator and burning out the engine, the strategy is to shift down into a lower gear. She refers to this intentional deceleration as "underwhelm." Instead of trying harder to keep up with an impossible checklist of domestic and personal expectations, she deliberately chooses to expect far less of herself for a designated period.
This philosophy of underwhelm is built upon several foundational practices designed to lower the temperature of daily stress without surrendering to despair. The first and perhaps most critical step involves dismantling the internal warning system of guilt. By turning off the guilt entirely—regardless of promises made to herself or others regarding pending tasks—she frees herself from the heavy burden of obligation. If a task cannot be accomplished without a serious undercurrent of resentment or grumbling, it is immediately removed from the active schedule for the time being.
The second practice is deceptively simple: taking naps whenever the opportunity arises. Whether it is a brief five-minute rest or a slightly longer pause, these micro-breaks work wonders to reset a frayed nervous system.
Alongside physical rest, reading serves as a primary refuge from the relentless demands of the caregiving schedule. For years, she has gravitated toward cozy mysteries, appreciating their low-key plots, minimal dramatic tension, and comforting characters and settings. The therapeutic value of reading is something she has long championed, even printing her own bookmarks highlighting research that suggests even a brief period of reading can significantly reduce stress levels. Whether the often-cited six-minute mark is a strict scientific threshold or not, the activity provides an immediate, reliable escape hatch from the realities of the surrounding environment.
Her literary tastes run toward the comfortable and familiar, occasionally revisiting beloved titles she has already read multiple times. Her reading list features classic series like the work of Miss Read, alongside M.C. Beaton, Jacqueline Winspear, and Debbie Macomber. Locally, she has embraced the work of Clark County author Christy J. Kendall, finding a special connection to a writer sharing her home turf. Her reading preferences also extend to supernatural mysteries with a light touch, as well as middle-grade children’s literature that offers a welcome return to the carefree moments of childhood at the age of seventy.
To complete her personal toolkit, she relies on a fourth practice that, while perhaps lacking formal medical endorsement, proves consistently effective: enjoying something sweet. A simple cookie or a piece of chocolate offers a momentary lift, following the time-tested philosophy of fictional nanny Mary Poppins. When exhaustion and irritability take over, these small comforts provide a much-needed psychological buffer, even if the remedy is strictly short-term and entirely self-prescribed.
Beyond these core strategies, additional practices help sustain her through demanding cycles. Daily journaling for a few minutes serves as a quiet outlet for recording the mundane details of life—the weather, upcoming doctor appointments, random ideas, visitor notes, and passing musings—without any pressure to craft an inspiring literary memoir.
Household chores are managed through strict time boundaries. By setting a kitchen timer for thirty minutes, she tackles essential tasks such as tidying the kitchen, making the bed, and addressing basic bathroom upkeep. Knowing there is a definitive endpoint helps bridge the motivation gap, transforming routine chores into mindless, soothing activities, provided they are never allowed to stretch beyond the half-hour limit.
Simple, old-school video games form another key component of her downtime routine. Addicted to straightforward digital puzzles, she regularly turns to jigsaw puzzles, Spider and Klondike solitaire, Sudoku, and word searches. To preserve the calming nature of these games, she mutes the audio entirely to avoid unnecessary sensory stimulation, brushing off the occasional annoyance of inescapable advertising loops as just another minor friction of modern life.
Computer work also provides a surprising avenue for relaxation. As the producer of a weekly radio program, she maintains a steady commitment to audio editing and designing graphics for platforms like Pinterest, Instagram, and Facebook. Because these tasks engage her creative faculties, they feel less like work and more like an enjoyable, productive outlet.
Ultimately, this deliberate descent into the slow lane represents a profound realization about the nature of chronic caregiving. Underwhelm is not an admission of defeat or a decision to give up; rather, it is a conscious adjustment of expectations to match the reality of the life she is living today.
As she reflects on the steep grades of her daily routine, her perspective offers a quiet reminder to others facing similar pressures. When life demands more than one feels capable of giving, the solution may not be to push harder against the wall. Sometimes, the wisest course of action is to shift down, shed a few items from the daily ledger, steal a few minutes of sleep, open a comforting book, and allow oneself the grace of a sweet treat. The hill, after all, will still be there tomorrow.
