02/04/2026
What I Hid for 18 Years
I cried in the shower with the water running so no one could hear me.
I sat in my car in the driveway after running errands, tears
streaming down my face, and I wouldn't go inside until I had wiped every trace of it away.
I would check my eyes in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren't red. Then I would walk in the house like everything was fine.
I snapped at my other kids. I had no patience left for them. I would yell at them over nothing and then hate myself for it as soon as the words left my mouth.
I never asked for help. Not once. Because in my head, asking for help meant I was failing.
For 18 years I hid all of this. How dare I feel this way. Sad, frustrated, resentful? She's a beautiful girl. She's my daughter. What kind of mother feels that way?
But I did feel that way.
And if you're a caregiver, you probably do too.
Here's what I want you to know.
You're not selfish for needing space. You're not weak for being tired. You're not failing for wanting help. Your feelings are valid. Even the ugly ones.
On February 9th, I'm opening the doors to something I wish existed when I was drowning.
A place for caregivers who are tired of pretending they're fine.
Stay tuned.