Caregiving! Holding Space for Others Without Losing Yourself

Before we talk about caregiving, I want you to pause for a second and ask yourself:

• Do you manage emotional tension in your family?

• Support an aging parent or grandparent?

• Raise children or help raise someone else’s?

• Are you a Pet Parent?

• Mentor others at work?

• Answer late-night calls from a friend in crisis?

• Keep the calendar… appointments, birthdays, reminders?

• Coordinate meals, travel, schedules, emergencies?

• Serve your community through volunteering or leadership?

If you said yes to even one, you are a caregiver.

Not “just helpful.”Not “just supportive.”Not “just doing what needs to be done.”

You are a caregiver.

Caregiving is so woven into the way women move through the world that half the time, we don’t even realize we’re doing it. We inherit it. We absorb it. We perform it. We improvise through it. We cover it with phrases like “it’s fine,” “I’ve got it,” or “don’t worry about it.”

Caregiving is something most women are doing whether we’ve given it a name or not.

And this is not to alienate men, because men are caregivers too… beautifully, powerfully, faithfully. But today, we’re talking to the women who often carry it quietly and carry it first.

So, What Is Caregiving, Really?

People often think caregiving means hands-on physical assistance:

Bathing. Feeding. Cooking. Appointments. Medication.

And yes, that’s absolutely caregiving.

But caregiving also looks like:

Emotional Care: being the emotional anchor for your family.

Mental Load: remembering everything without a spreadsheet.

Invisible Work: smoothing over life before anyone notices.

Daily Care: the meals, phone calls, bills, and appointments that let others survive the day.

Community Care: mentoring, leading, helping… without credit.

Here’s the reality (Source: AARP & National Alliance for Caregiving):

• 53 million Americans are caregivers

• 75% of caregivers are women

• 61% of caregivers also work

• Caregivers provide an average of 24 hours of care per week

• 1-in-5 caregivers also cares for children and aging relatives at the same time

So, when you feel tired, it’s not failure that you're feeling, it’s because you’re carrying too much alone.

The Sandwich Generation: When Care Comes from Both Sides

There’s a form of caregiving we don’t name enough: Caring for the generation before you AND the generation behind you… at the same time.

It’s called sandwich-generation caregiving, and it’s happening earlier and earlier. Women are becoming caregivers in their 20's and 30's, long before anyone hands them a pamphlet or prepares them for what that actually looks like.

In my family, caregiving is a generational story.

My mother, Gloria, and my aunt Rose Marie cared for my grandmother, Mrs. Para Lee Washington Reed, with dignity and devotion. They cared for her through the late nights, the slow mornings, the appointments, the decisions, the decline, and the intimacy of the everyday tasks that preserve someone’s comfort and dignity. And in my late 20’s through my early 40’s, I chose to help care for my grandmother with them. Grannie Reed lived to be 98 years old.

That means:

• My mom was caring for her mother, while caring for her family, while serving her community and

• I was caring for my grandmother, while launching my career, while figuring out adulthood.

Three generations, one truth: Care goes forward and backward… at the same time.

Did it change my social life? Yes.

Did I sometimes feel “behind”? Yes.

But it also filled my soul in ways nothing else has.

There were hard days, where grief and gratitude existed in the same breath. But caring for the woman who raised the people who raised me felt like a sacred honor. And I watched my mother do the same thing with grace, radiance, and humanity.

I watched her hold her mother’s hand with the same tenderness her mother once used to hold hers. I watched her advocate in hallways, comfort in silence, and love through decline.

That’s the emotional intimacy of caregiving:

It shifts the relationship into something deeper, quieter, and more vulnerable.

It’s not rounding corners for someone.

It’s standing in the gap for someone.

And when you’ve stood in that gap, caregiving is no longer something you “help with.”

It becomes something you understand in your bones.

When the Table Turns

There’s another part of caregiving that isn’t often named: Becoming the one who needs care.

For most of my adult life, I've lived with invisible disabilities, conditions that require treatment even though they can’t always be seen by people I interact with. I’ve sat through iron transfusions. I’ve gone to doctor’s appointments that changed my lifestyle. I’ve had seasons where my body demanded a voice louder than my calendar. And do you know who stepped in? My mom.

The woman I watched care for her mother now caring for her daughter.

But not as her young child, as her adult daughter who is filled with opinions and comes with a furry son, Regal Beagle, who also needs to be taken care of.

Here’s where it gets complicated: When you’re sick, exhausted, or hurting, you don’t want to be asked 100 questions about “What do you need?” You don’t always have the language for what will help. You don’t know your appetite. You can’t describe the discomfort well enough.

She wants to help. You want peace. She wants to do it “right.”You don’t want to talk. You’re irritated. She’s confused.

Two people doing their best… frustrated by the lack of communication.

It took me a while to realize:

Caregiving hurts on both sides when no one knows what comfort looks like. That’s why lists matter. Why planning matters. Why conversations matter before the crisis. So that when illness gets loud, care doesn’t have to feel complicated.

Think about questions and answers to those questions that will help you both:

“What foods make you feel better?”

“Which snacks do you want by the bed?”

“What drink is comforting when you’re nauseous?”

“What blanket feels like safety?”

“Are you a fan person or a no-fan person?”

“What show calms your mind?”

Write it down. Share it with someone you trust. That’s how caregiving becomes compassion instead of confusion.

Burnout Has a Look… and It’s Not Always What You Think

The word caregivers rarely say because it feels like failure is burnout. Not the everyday “I’m tired,” but the kind of exhaustion that lives in your bones. Burnout whispers long before it screams.

Here are some early indicators that caregiving might be taking more from you than you’re able to give:

Physical signs: fatigue, headaches, tension, sleep changes

Mental signs: brain fog, overwhelm, forgetfulness, trouble making decisions

Emotional signs: irritability, numbness, feeling unappreciated or invisible, guilt for needing space

Behavioral signs: withdrawing, canceling plans, neglecting routines

If you just read through the list and thought: “…oh, this sounds like me” you’re not alone.

Most caregivers experience burnout not because they don’t love the people they care for, but because they’re running on an emotional deficit while trying to give emotional support.

Here’s the truth:

Burnout is a sign of imbalance, not a sign of incompetence.

It is a signal, not a verdict.

And when you can name burnout, you can begin to repair the part of you that caregiving has quietly worn thin.

What Caregivers Need Most (And Why It’s Non-Negotiable)

These 15 needs are not luxuries, they’re what make caregiving sustainable:

1. Support: emotional, physical, and logistical help.

2. Rest: real rest, not leftover minutes between responsibilities.

3. Identity: space to remember who they are beyond caregiving.

4. Understanding: people who “get it” without explanation.

5. Community: connection that reminds them they’re not alone.

6. Permission: freedom to say no, pause, or step back.

7. Relief: shared care so they don’t carry everything alone.

8. Compassion: kindness toward themselves and from others.

9. Clarity: knowing what is theirs to carry, and what is not.

10. Emotional Safety: a place to express frustration, grief, or fear without judgment.

11. Time: moments for themselves, their needs, and their joy.

12. Resources: tools, information, and support systems that make caregiving sustainable.

13. Validation: recognition that the work they do is real and meaningful.

14. Boundaries: protective limits that keep their well-being intact.

15. Hope: a sense of possibility, grounding, and purpose in the journey.

Without these needs, caregiving turns into self-erasure.

Caring Without Losing Yourself IS Possible

Yes, you can love people deeply without abandoning yourself in the process.

Here’s how:

• Name what you need… before the crisis.

• Build support when you’re okay… not when you’re depleted.

• Protect your identity… keep something that belongs only to you.

• Rest regularly… not just as recovery, but as routine.

• Delegate… care doesn’t have to be carried alone.

• Be imperfect… caregiving is messy.

You don’t have to disappear to be devoted. Caregiving is sacred work, yes. But so is protecting the woman inside the caregiver.

One Last Question:

Before you close this tab or move on to your next task, ask yourself:

What category did you check that tells you you’re a caregiver at the beginning of this blog and what do you need today?

Support?

Rest?

Permission?

Boundaries?

Hope?

Pick your word and honor it.

Your strength isn’t measured by how much you carry, but by knowing you don’t have to carry it alone.

Visit www.onepearlmovement.com for additional support! Contact Dr. Tara Reed by email info@drtarareed.com.