Let’s start with the truth:
Caregiving can feel like drowning in plain sight.
Whether you’re caring for someone with dementia, cancer, chronic illness, or a lifelong disability, the feelings are all too familiar—overwhelmed, exhausted, and maybe even resentful. If that’s not enough, then comes the guilt for feeling that way.
But hear me when I say this:
It’s normal.
You’re not broken.
You’re not weak.
You’re not failing.
You’re human. And you are giving more than anyone ever should be expected to give.

Caregiving demands everything—your time, your body, your brain, your spirit. It is relentless. There is no “clock out” button. No real breaks. It’s like being in charge of a small, complicated company 24/7, with no staff, no budget, and no vacation policy. And in rural areas? Forget about services. If you’ve got a Meals on Wheels driver and a decent pharmacist, you’re already ahead.
The Crisis No One Talks About (except Bradley Cooper)
Caregiver mental health is a national crisis.
According to the National Alliance for Caregiving:
40–70% of family caregivers experience symptoms of depression.
23% report that caregiving has made their own health worse.
And the average caregiver spends more than 24 hours a week providing care—with many logging far more.
And that’s just the stats. What the numbers can’t tell you is the quiet loneliness. The financial burden. The identity loss. The moments when you stand in the kitchen and whisper, “I can’t do this anymore,” and then take a deep breath and keep going anyway.
There is no system that truly supports what we are doing. There are gaps so wide they swallow up the strongest among us. In small towns and rural spaces, support is even more limited, burnout is high, and caregivers are often running on sheer willpower.
Now, About Those Bumper Sticker People…
You don’t have to feel happy every minute of every day.
Let’s just take that filter off, shall we?
If God meant for us to be sunshine and daisies all the time, He wouldn’t have created sadness, anger, frustration, or anxiety. Those emotions exist for a reason. You’re allowed to feel them all.
So when someone tries to cheer you up with a glitter-dusted “God gives His toughest battles to His strongest soldiers” or “You’ve got this!”—take a deep breath and remember:
Forgive them. They are clearly not caregivers.
They don’t get it. You will never meet a fellow caregiver who makes light of your feelings. We. Know. Better.
So What Can You Do?
We’re not going to pretend there’s a magic fix. But here are a few realistic ideas to help lighten the load:
1. Narrow Your Focus
Stop looking at the next five years. Or even five months.
Shrink your lens. Focus on the next hour. The next breath. The next step. You are not required to carry the entire journey at once. And, you can’t. I’m in year six of this life, and the one thing that can drive me over the edge within two breaths is someone asking what my plans are after mom is gone. How can I think or even dream about that? There is no time frame to life and death. And losing a loved one is a whole other book.
2. Give Yourself the Grace You Give Them
Would you speak to your loved one the way you speak to yourself? Probably not. You’d be patient, kind, encouraging. You’d say, “Take a rest. You’re doing your best.” So say it to yourself, too.
3. Call in Tiny Rescues
A porch visit with a friend.
A walk around the block alone.
A YouTube video that makes you laugh.
A frozen pizza for dinner instead of a full meal.
These small moments count. They can rescue a whole day.
4. Start Saying Yes
Yes to help when it’s offered.
Yes to a nap.
Yes to an emotional release—whether it’s a good cry in the bathroom or a deep prayer in the car.
You don’t have to do this like a machine. You’re not one.
5. Find One Local Ally
In rural areas, formal services might be sparse, but maybe there’s a church group. A neighbor. A retired nurse. A caregiver Facebook group. One person who understands. Let them in. You don’t need a village—you just need one warm heart.
Caregiver Hack of the Week:
Create a “Reset List.”
It’s a handwritten or phone note with 3–5 things that help you reset when you’re on the edge.
• Drink a cold glass of water
• Text a friend who always makes you laugh
• Step outside barefoot for 3 minutes
• Write down ONE thing you did well today
Keep it visible. On the fridge. On your mirror. Inside your car. And use it.
You are not alone.
This season can feel unending, but it won’t last forever.
And in the meantime, you are doing holy work.
It’s not easy. It’s not glamorous.
But it is sacred.
You are not failing.
You are just tired.
And you are still worthy of care, love, and rest.
I love you all, and I see you.
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