âGuilt is not a response to doing something wrong. Itâs a response to loving someone and feeling like you canât do enough.â
â BrenĂ© Brown
I remember the Sunday morning vividly.
It was June of 2000.
It was so HOTâŠand HUMID!!! đ„”
I was getting ready to leave for my final physical therapy clinical rotationâa few hours away from home.
By then, my momâwho (though I didnât know it yet) had less than six months of life remainingâwas too sick to get out of bed.
Sheâd always walked me to the door whenever I left town.
But that dayâŠ
She couldnât. đą
I stood there, torn.
I had to leave. But I didnât want to.
Minutes later, I found myself trying to navigate I-95 driving in South Florida despite blurred, prism-like, distorted visionâLike looking through a kaleidoscope.
I was sobbing.đ
Alone in my car.
I felt awful.
Every part of me felt like I was abandoning her.
Even though my grandmother would be there to care for her, I still felt like I was leaving her to fend for herself.
That moment stayed with me.
Because guilt doesnât care about logic.
It shows up when love meets limitation.
Just know, it doesnât mean youâve failed.
It means you careâdeeply.
But left unchecked, guilt can twist your thinking.
You start saying yes when you mean no.
You put off asking for help.
You stay in survival modeâlong after it's wearing you down.
Youâre stretched beyond capacity.
Guilt often shows up when youâve moved from helping to overdoing.
Youâve tied love to self-sacrifice.
âIf Iâm not doing it all, Iâm letting them down.â
That belief runs deepâŠ
But itâs not true.
Youâre facing a painful decision.
Guilt doesnât always show up because weâve done something wrong. Sometimes it arrives when weâre making the hardestâbut necessaryâchoices.
Like the one I faced that Sunday morningâwalking out the door, knowing my mom couldnât follow.
Like hiring outside help for your loved one.
Like moving a loved one to an assisted living facility.
Or just saying out loud: âI canât keep doing this alone.â
đŹ Name the fear underneath.
Guilt is often a mask for fearâof judgment, of letting go, of being seen as selfish.
When you name the fear, it loses its grip.
âAsk: âIs this guilt guiding me, or grinding me down?â
Healthy guilt keeps you aligned with your values.
Toxic guilt keeps you stuck.
Youâll feel the difference in your bodyâtight vs. open, heavy vs. grounded.
đ Rewrite the story guilt is telling you.
Instead of: âI should be doing moreâŠâ
Try: âIâm doing whatâs possible. And Iâm allowed to need support, too.â
Your worth is not measured by how much you sacrifice.
Guilt can whisper lies like:
â âIâm being selfish.â
â âIâm giving up on them.â
â âI should be able to handle this.â
But the truth sounds more like:
â
âMy needs matter too.â
â
âAsking for help is an act of love.â
â
âI can want peace for both of us.â
Youâre not giving up.
Youâre giving care the best way you can, with the tools and energy you have.
đ Book Pick:
The Conscious Caregiver: A Mindful Approach to Caring for Yourself While Caring for Others
A compassionate, practical guide that helps caregivers navigate emotional burnout, set healthy boundaries, and reclaim their sense of self.
đ§ Podcast Rec:
Caregiver Chats with Dr. Lakelyn â Understanding Guilt, Shame, and Self-Compassion
This heartfelt episode dives deep into the emotional terrain of caregivingâfrom the difference between guilt and shame to the hidden weight of perfectionism. Guest Suzanne White shares insights on how emotions shape the caregiving environment, why asking for help is an act of strength, and how small wins (and cookies) can keep us going. A compassionate listen for any caregiver feeling the pressure to do it all.
đ Coming Soon:
âItâs No Longer Safe at Home: How to Talk to Your Aging Parent About a Higher Level of Careâ
A free step-by-step guide for one of caregivingâs toughest moments: talking to your parent about moving to a higher level of careâwithout losing your connection.
Keep an eye out for it in your inbox!
Youâre not selfish.
And youâre not failingâŠ
Youâre human.
And youâre loving someone through impossibly hard things. đ«
With you,
Bryce