Caregiving and Self-Doubt: Carrying the Weight of Someone Else’s Needs

There is a version of caregiving that exists in storybooks, where love alone carries people through, where patience is infinite, where the act of showing up is its own reward. And then there is the reality—the one where you wake up already exhausted, where no amount of effort ever feels sufficient, where you lie in bed at night thinking, I should have done more.

I feel like I am failing at this. Every single day.

I tell myself I should be stronger. I should be more patient. I should be able to hold all of this without it spilling over into exhaustion, frustration, or resentment. I should be able to absorb the weight of another person’s needs without crumbling under it. I should be better at this.

But I am crumbling.

The Constant, Unspoken Expectations

Caregiving is filled with expectations that no one ever says out loud, but you feel them pressing against you. A good caregiver is selfless. A good caregiver does not become weary. A good caregiver is always available, always understanding, always capable of navigating this role with grace.

These ideas sink in so deeply that even when you are doing everything you possibly can, it still feels like it’s not enough. If you set a boundary, you feel selfish. If you take time for yourself, you feel guilty. If you admit that you are tired, that this is harder than you ever imagined, you feel like you have somehow failed.

But what does success in caregiving even look like? And who decided that the only way to be good at this is to disappear into it completely?

The Reality of Never Being Able to Fix Everything

Caregiving is not a problem to be solved. There is no finish line, no moment of completion, no neatly tied ending where you can step back and say, There, everything is taken care of now.

Instead, it is an endless cycle of managing what cannot be fixed. It is watching someone slip further from who they used to be and knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it. It is making phone calls, filling out paperwork, coordinating care, running errands, listening, reassuring, checking in—again and again—only to wake up the next day and do it all over again.

You can give everything you have, and it will still never feel like enough. And that is the hardest part.

The Toll of Carrying It All

The exhaustion is more than physical. It seeps into every part of you. It is carrying the weight of someone else’s well-being while your own starts to wither. It is the quiet erosion of your own life, the slow shrinking of joy, the constant underlying hum of anxiety, worry, and responsibility.

It is sitting in a room full of people but feeling utterly alone because your mind is elsewhere. It is seeing a text or hearing the phone ring and feeling your body tighten with stress. It is the quiet grief of realizing that the person you used to be—the one who had energy, who had time, who had space to exist outside of this role—feels like a distant memory.

And no matter how much you do, the voice inside still whispers, You should have done more.

Redefining What It Means to Be "Good Enough"

If caregiving only has two categories—perfection or failure—then no one wins.

Maybe being a “good enough” caregiver isn’t about doing everything. Maybe it’s about doing what you can, with the energy you have, while still leaving room for yourself to exist. Maybe it’s about understanding that this role was never meant to be carried alone.

Maybe it means setting boundaries that allow you to breathe. Maybe it means recognizing that exhaustion is not a flaw. Maybe it means refusing to measure your worth by how much of yourself you sacrifice.

I am trying to believe that. I am trying to remind myself that I am not a failure just because this is hard. That I am not failing just because I feel depleted. That caregiving is not about being perfect.

It is about finding a way to survive it without losing yourself in the process.