Hi Monica. Thank you. I have become my husbands caregiver and while I work hard to support and celebrate my sense of self, I struggle with the guilt sometimes. My bigger ‘issue’ is ensuring resentment doesn’t grow. You know the “this is not what I expected” brain chatter - we’ve only been married 10 years and had other plans! 😎 Your list is very helpful. Much appreciated.
I feel the weight and honesty in your words, and I just want to say: you’re not alone. That “this is not what I expected” voice? It’s real. And it’s valid. Naming it doesn’t make you ungrateful—it makes you honest. And that honesty is how we protect our hearts from silent resentment.
Ten years in, you should still be dreaming and building together—and now you’re carrying both your life and his. That’s no small thing. So I honor the part of you that’s still fighting to celebrate yourself in the midst of all this. That takes guts. That’s sacred work.
I’m holding space for the woman you still are, even while you're caregiving. She matters so deeply. I hope you can give yourself permission to feel all of it—guilt, grief, gratitude, and the fierce commitment to keep showing up for you too.
You’re doing beautifully, even when it doesn’t feel like it
I am not the main caregiver for my bedridden mother with dementia, but I supervise everything and visit her every day, and still I feel exhausted, drained and full of different kinds of guilt...
I can only imagine how difficult what you did must have been for you!!
I just put a public link of the pdf that is in my CANVA account. the mix up is on Substacks end, but it's just easier to give ya the link. Hope it helps.
Hi Monica. Thank you. I have become my husbands caregiver and while I work hard to support and celebrate my sense of self, I struggle with the guilt sometimes. My bigger ‘issue’ is ensuring resentment doesn’t grow. You know the “this is not what I expected” brain chatter - we’ve only been married 10 years and had other plans! 😎 Your list is very helpful. Much appreciated.
I feel the weight and honesty in your words, and I just want to say: you’re not alone. That “this is not what I expected” voice? It’s real. And it’s valid. Naming it doesn’t make you ungrateful—it makes you honest. And that honesty is how we protect our hearts from silent resentment.
Ten years in, you should still be dreaming and building together—and now you’re carrying both your life and his. That’s no small thing. So I honor the part of you that’s still fighting to celebrate yourself in the midst of all this. That takes guts. That’s sacred work.
I’m holding space for the woman you still are, even while you're caregiving. She matters so deeply. I hope you can give yourself permission to feel all of it—guilt, grief, gratitude, and the fierce commitment to keep showing up for you too.
You’re doing beautifully, even when it doesn’t feel like it
Thank you. 🙏 your kindness and words feel like a beautiful song of compassion singing in my heart. ❤️
I know how you felt. I was a carer but worked in a care home and later a live in carer. It is a very hard job. But, I absolutely loved it.
I am not the main caregiver for my bedridden mother with dementia, but I supervise everything and visit her every day, and still I feel exhausted, drained and full of different kinds of guilt...
I can only imagine how difficult what you did must have been for you!!
humn. let me go figure this out
I just put a public link of the pdf that is in my CANVA account. the mix up is on Substacks end, but it's just easier to give ya the link. Hope it helps.
https://www.canva.com/design/DAGxFuZ3PaI/r4e_8ON4PJ5IYdhrw4C2IA/view?utm_content=DAGxFuZ3PaI&utm_campaign=designshare&utm_medium=link2&utm_source=uniquelinks&utlId=h994839fc3e