02/07/2026
One of the hardest parts of being a parent caregiver isnât just the exhaustion or the burnoutâitâs the quiet loss of connection.
And almost no one talks about it.
We spend our days managing the pressures of caring for our special needs children, and over time our world narrows. We become so hyper-focused on caregiving that we lose the ability to connect with others about anything else. Conversations with coworkers, people at church, fitness classes, even family or old friends can start to feel distantâbecause they simply canât relate to this life.
They talk about date nights, vacations, empty nest plans, annoying coworkers, or how tired they are after staying up late watching Netflix. And while none of those things are wrong, they can feel impossibly far away from our lived reality.
So we smile.
We say weâre âfine.â
And we keep the hard parts locked inside.
How do you share the fear you carry every single day about what will happen to your child when youâre gone?
Most people donât have a place to put that kind of truth.
In my book, âSelling Vegetables to Drunks,â I talk about recognizing a familiar pattern from my childhood growing up with an alcoholic fatherâthe need to perform. I showed up everywhere with high energy and a smile, even when life at home was chaos.
I realize now that I do the same thing as a caregiver.
Iâm exhausted because my autistic adult son may be up all night or wake at 2am. He needs full assistance with every daily living taskâfeeding, changing, showering, dressing. I worry daily about what will happen to him when Iâm gone.
And yet I show up to my full-time job smiling, never missing a deadline, recognized for being exceptional. I attend 5am yoga three mornings a weekâpositive, happy to be there. People describe me as someone who always has it together.
The truth? Iâm often overwhelmed. And Iâm lonely.
This is one of the hardest parts to explainâespecially to ourselves.
You can be capable, reliable and outwardly positive and still feel like youâre falling apart. You can love your child fiercely and still grieve the life and relationships you donât have.
Somewhere along the way, many of us lose close friendships. Not because we donât care, but because we donât have the time, energy, or emotional bandwidth to maintain them. Or because the gap between our realities becomes too wide.
And after years of carrying everything alone, it becomes harder to even know how to let someone in.
So, if you feel disconnected from othersâŚ
If you feel unseen even when youâre surrounded by peopleâŚ
If youâre praised for being strong while quietly wishing someone would ask how youâre really doingâŚ
You are not failing at relationships.
You are responding normally to an extraordinarily hard life.
There is nothing wrong with you.
This loneliness doesnât mean youâre ungrateful. It doesnât mean youâre negative.
And it doesnât mean youâre broken.
It means youâve been surviving for a very long time.
My hope in sharing this is simple: that other parent caregivers read these words and feel less alone.
That you recognize yourself here and realize your feelings make sense.
That the mask you wear was once protectiveâand maybe still isâbut that you deserve spaces where you donât have to perform.
You deserve connection that doesnât require a smile.
You deserve to be held, too.
You deserve to be seen.
And even if you donât have that yet, please know this â I SEE YOU.
And youâre not alone in this.
*Link to my book here: https://amzn.to/49PUQRs
