For Caregivers Quietly Running Out of Strength

Dear Caregiver,

I wonder how long you have been telling yourself, I’m okay. I can keep going.

Maybe you say it in the morning, when you are already tired before the day has even begun. Maybe you say it while making breakfast, finding medications, answering questions, changing sheets, making appointments, or trying to remember the ten things that cannot be forgotten today.

And somehow, you keep going.

People may look at you and see someone strong, dependable, and always finding a way.

But I know there can be another side to that strength.

There is the tiredness you don’t talk about.

The kind that sleep doesn’t always fix.

The kind that settles deep inside you because you have been needed for so long that you hardly remember what it feels like to have a day that is yours.

You love the person you care for. I know that.

But love does not mean you never get tired.

Love does not mean you never feel frustrated, lonely, overwhelmed, or even angry.

And it does not mean that every day feels meaningful or beautiful.

Some days are just hard.

Some days you may sit in the bathroom for a few extra minutes because it is the only place where no one is asking anything of you.

Some days, you may hear your name called and feel something inside you sink because you know there is one more thing to do.

Then maybe you feel guilty for feeling that way.

Please don’t.

You have been giving from the same heart, the same body, and the same mind, day after day. There is a limit to what one person can carry without growing tired.

You are allowed to admit that this is difficult.

You are allowed to say, “I need help.”

You are allowed to rest before everything is finished.

Because the truth is, everything may never be finished.

There will always be another load of laundry, another meal, another appointment, another phone call, another need.

But there is only one you.

And somewhere beneath the caregiver, there is still a person who needs tenderness, too.

You need someone to ask how you are doing and to stay long enough to hear the real answer.

You need moments when you are not solving a problem.

You need laughter that has nothing to do with caregiving.

You need quiet.

You need rest.

Maybe you cannot change your entire situation today. I understand that. Sometimes people tell caregivers to “take care of yourself” as if you can simply step away from everything that depends on you.

I know it is not always that simple, so maybe today, caring for yourself looks small.

Maybe you sit down while the dishes wait; you step outside for five minutes and feel the air on your face.

Maybe you call someone and tell the truth instead of saying, “I’m fine,” or accept help without explaining why you need it.

Maybe you cry, or you do absolutely nothing for a little while.

Small does not mean meaningless.

And needing rest does not mean you have stopped loving the person in your care.

It means you are human.

So if you are quietly running out of strength, I hope you will stop expecting yourself to have an endless supply.

You don’t have to prove how much you love someone by disappearing into their needs.

You matter too.

Not because of how much you do.

Not because someone depends on you.

Not because you managed to hold everything together for one more day.

You matter because you are who you are.

And if no one has told you this lately, let me say it now.

I see how tired you are.

I see how hard you are working.

And I hope you will give yourself some of the gentleness you so freely give to everyone else.

You deserve care, too.

With love,

From one heart to another.