Caregiving: The Work that Makes Us More Human

The Work of Care

When I reflect on my experience caring for someone I love deeply, there’s no question that I would do it all over again. But there’s also a lot I would do differently, knowing what I know now. Caregiving is hard, unglamorous, and often invisible work.

When I consider what caregiving has meant for my personal growth and sense of purpose, it hasn’t diminished me. It has made me better. And more human.

Having been my Mum’s primary caregiver for over a decade, we’ve been through a great deal—surgeries, new diagnoses, and the slow, unyielding experience of watching her health decline. There have been plenty of lows. But also many moments where I’ve known the effort was worth it.

There is so much I’ve learned—about myself, about Mum, and about what it means to be family.

I’ve also seen what it looks like when people rise to the occasion:

• A medical team going to great lengths to ensure her wellbeing
• Family and friends showing up, quietly and reliably
• Simple gestures of kindness from strangers

But I’ve also seen where people fall short. And that includes me. It’s all part of the journey of caregiving—and part of being human, too.

What Caregiving Asks of Us

For so many of us, caregiving is not something we prepare for. It’s something we fall into. We care for a loved one, or we receive care ourselves—for a short time, or for years. And while the caregiving role may be quietly accepted, the impact it has on our lives is anything but quiet. The sacrifices we make, the responsibilities we carry, and the way it rearranges our lives—these leave deep marks.

What’s harder is how little guidance there is. Most of us only see pieces of what the role entails, and few of us are supported in navigating the impact it has on our work, relationships, health, and identity. So we improvise. We muddle through. And it can leave us exhausted, overwhelmed, and unsure if we’re even doing it right.

There’s also the sheer practicality of caregiving—the hats you wear and the speed with which you switch between them.

• One minute you’re coordinating medical appointments..
• Next you’re keeping the house running..
• Then preparing meals or helping someone dress..
• Before being a walking cane or scrabble partner

It draws on every part of you.

Sometimes that closeness is beautiful—like sitting beside my Mum’s hospital bed watching Yellowstone—but the relentlessness of being needed, every day, takes its toll.

What I Hope to Explore here

As I start to reflect on this chapter of my life, I want to use this space to explore caregiving more deeply. What it takes. What it costs. And what it gives back to us.

My goal is to start a broader conversation around how we can better support caregivers—especially as the needs of those we care for evolve over time.

Because we evolve, too. And our own needs—emotional, physical, and spiritual—deserve just as much care.

I’ll be sharing stories, reflections, and resources drawn from my own experience and from others who’ve walked this path. If you’ve been a caregiver, are one now, or know someone who is—I hope this can be a space for insight, honesty, and community.

Thanks for being here.
– Adrian

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