I have a critical voice in my head. I seldom mention it. It has been part of my life for years. It got especially loud after Jack was diagnosed with dementia.

Most days I can ignore it. I know that what it says is usually rubbish. I have learned over time to question it, to apply logic to its accusations. That is often enough to shut it up.

This morning, though, it is relentless. It was already talking when I woke up. When I tried to reason it away, it dragged out the guilt. It knows where to set the hook.

As a result, I’ve so far spent the morning questioning every caregiving decision I’ve ever made or am planning to make. I would normally let the dialogue rage and I would live as if it wasn’t there. But I don’t feel like being normal today. I want to let some light in.

I am a lousy caregiver first of all, the voice says, because I have cooked the same meal for Jack for three nights in a row. (The shame!) Granted, it is chicken with rice and quinoa, but I served it without any vegetables. (Gasp!) Do I want him to die?? A REAL caregiver would not only give him vegetables at every meal; she would also make all his meals from scratch, using only organic ingredients. I am obviously not qualified to be a caregiver!

I am a bad caregiver because I am thinking about shutting Jack’s phone off permanently. But he doesn’t use it. He’s forgotten he has it. And no one calls him on it anyway. I’d rather put that monthly payment into the savings account so I can start building it up again. We need the money at this point more than he needs a phone.

I am a ‘terrible caregiver’ because I am thinking of cutting Jack’s vitamins down to the most important ones. Don’t I know (says Critical Voice) that I would be compromising his health if I did this? Again, do I want him to DIE?? But lately Jack has been grumbling about the amount of pills he’s taking, and some days he’s refusing them. And that reclaimed money could also go to the savings account. I wouldn’t just throw it away.

So far, I’ve held my own with Critical Voice. But it always saves the Big Accusation for last. I am a lousy caregiver, it says, because I am making Jack live in a trailer (of all things!). Not only that, but I am giving him substandard food (no veggies with each meal, remember?); I am not keeping the trailer spotless; I am not being a good wife and putting him first in everything like I ‘should’ be; and I am simply not doing enough and should be ashamed of myself. To this I have no answer, mainly because I’m tired of the debate.

But writing this has done one thing. It has made me laugh at the absurdity of even trying to debate, because none of the accusations are true. The truth is, I am doing the best I can under some very trying circumstances, and I can’t ask more than that of me. I ask enough of myself already.