“You don’t have to do everything. You just have to do the next right thing.”
— Unknown
I’ve been thinking a lot about something lately.
Not a specific caregiving task.
Not a crisis moment.
But the quiet pattern underneath so many of them.
The way caregivers (myself included, years ago) try to think their way out of situations that thinking alone can’t solve.
We replay conversations with doctors.
Recalculate schedules.
Run through scenarios late at night, hoping that if we just think hard enough, clarity will finally show up.
And when it doesn’t, we assume the problem is us.
I need a better system.
I need to focus harder.
I’m not organized enough.
But here’s what I’ve come to understand:
The problem was never that we weren’t capable.
It was that we were trying to optimize a system that was already beyond capacity.
The Invisible Mistake
When you’re already decision-fatigued and cognitively overloaded (which most caregivers are) the instinct is to fix it.
Find the right app.
Refine the routine.
Tighten the process.
But mental bandwidth doesn’t work like a closet you can reorganize.
It’s more like a well that’s been drawn from too often, for too long.
You can’t optimize your way out of depletion.
You can only protect what’s left.
This isn’t about productivity.
And it’s not even really about doing less.
It’s about recognizing that your brain has real, biological limits, and that hitting them doesn’t make you a failure.
It just means you’re human.
A Different Frame
What if, instead of trying to fix your bandwidth, you focused on protecting it?
What if the question shifted from “How do I manage all of this better?” to something simpler:
Does this actually need to be decided today?
Can someone else choose this for now?
What happens if this waits?
Protecting your bandwidth might look like saying:
“I don’t know yet.”
Or perhaps letting someone else make a call altogether.
The broader point is, not every question needs a definitive answer right now.
You’ve spent weeks…maybe months or even years…holding everything together with sheer mental effort.
You did that because you love someone.
Because you’re committed.
Because someone had to.
But you were never supposed to carry it all in your head.
And the fact that you can’t anymore doesn’t mean you’re weak.
It means you’ve reached the edge of what any person could reasonably sustain.
What your mind needs right now isn’t more effort.
It’s a little more (self) kindness.
Weekly Resource(s)
🧭 No additional resources this week
This edition is intentionally light. I didn’t want to add another article, podcast, or task to your plate.
Because the point of this week’s message is that your plate is already full.
If this newsletter gave you even a small sense of permission to pause or protect your mental bandwidth, that’s enough for now.
If this landed, I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one decision you’ve been carrying that might not need to be made today?
Just hit reply. As always, I read every message.
With you,
Bryce
P.S. If you haven’t already, come join me on social.
I share short reflections, caregiver re-frames, and early looks at tools and resources I’m building for caregivers who are carrying too much alone.
Even one post might remind you that what you’re feeling makes sense.
