When the mirror talks back: Facing my own changing body and health

Some mornings the mirror catches me off guard.

I know this might sound strange, especially when one is new to caregiving. But I haven’t just started out as a caregiver. I’ve been doing this for almost four years now. And in that time, I’ve observed that, gradually, my reflection continues to change whenever I look into the mirror.

It’s not a sudden change. Rather, it’s a slow but sure transformation that my body is undergoing. Each time, I notice one new thing or another. And anytime I notice these new changes in my body, it still startles me.

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I’ll stand there brushing my teeth and notice the shadows under my eyes. My shoulders sit higher than they used to, carrying tension I barely feel during the day. The man looking back at me has lost weight in places I didn’t expect. Caregiving has quietly reshaped my body while I was busy watching my mum’s.

This change speaks in small, daily ways.

My back aches from nights spent on the couch, ready to respond if she calls. There are days my own appetite disappears because I am too focused on making sure she eats. Simple things like drinking enough water or taking a proper meal require deliberate effort. My body is sending signals I used to easily ignore. Now those signals are louder.

I feel a quiet guilt when I notice these changes. And the guilt grows even more when I ask myself whether I need to not only constantly observe my mum, but also myself?

Part of me wants to push the thoughts away — after all, my mum is the one facing myeloma. But another part of me understands that I cannot pour from an empty cup. If I break down completely, who will be there for her? This realization sits heavily. I am learning that caring for myself is not selfish. It is another way of caring for her.

So I have begun small acts of attention. I take five extra minutes to stretch my back in the morning. I sit under the mango tree with a glass of water and simply breathe. I try to notice when my own body is asking for rest, the same way I notice my mum’s needs.

The mirror still talks back. But I am learning to listen with more kindness. This caregiving journey is changing both of us — her body and mine. And perhaps part of the work is learning to hold both with the same gentle attention.

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