Some mornings feel thick. Heavy. Humid. Like the air itself has opinions about your plans. I’ve had more of those mornings lately. The kind where your eyes are open, but your brain hasn’t realized it yet, and everything feels just a little harder than it should. Care partner overwhelm can feel a lot like that, too—when there’s so much to think about that even figuring out the next step feels harder than it should.
Why am I sharing this? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. But maybe it’s part of growing. Becoming wiser.
(Although if this is wisdom, I’d like to speak to management.)
Most days I don’t feel wise. I feel like a tugboat trying to tow a yacht back to shore…against the wind…with questionable fuel.
Meanwhile, doubt, fear, and uncertainty swirl after long days of learning new things. My to-do list grows faster than my confidence. I add pieces to the puzzle while still trying to figure out what the picture is supposed to be.
I find myself searching for people who know how to do the things I don’t know how to do yet. Trying to lift the bar off my own shoulders while pretending I put it there on purpose.
Maybe I felt this way in college too. I probably did. I just don’t remember.
Which feels ironic now that I work in memory care.
Sometimes the Hard Part Is Not Knowing What Comes Next
There’s something uncomfortable about being a beginner again.
After all, you can be capable, experienced, and really good at a hundred other things—and still find yourself standing in the middle of something new thinking, “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.“
I think care partners know this feeling especially well. Care partner overwhelm has a way of making even a capable person question whether they’re equipped for what’s in front of them.
One day, you’re a daughter. Then, the next day you’re the person going to appointments and keeping track of medications.
Then someone asks you a question about Mom’s care that you don’t know how to answer.
And then there’s a new diagnosis, a change in her abilities, a conversation you weren’t prepared to have, or a decision that suddenly feels much bigger than you.
Nobody hands you a manual and says, “Here. This is exactly how the next five years are going to go.”
Because nobody knows. You learn as you go.
You ask questions, get something wrong, adjust, and figure out what works for your family—and sometimes you discover that what worked six months ago doesn’t work anymore.
That uncertainty can make even very capable people wonder whether they’re doing enough.
Care Partner Overwhelm Doesn’t Mean You’re Not Capable
Here’s what I do know:
If you’re in a new role, a new season, or a new version of yourself and some days feel like this, you’re learning.
Perfection is not required. Desire helps. Passion helps. Faith helps a lot. And no, you are not Neil Armstrong preparing to land on the moon.
You are a care partner, a business owner, a human being learning an entirely new way of life.
That takes time.
And maybe we need to give ourselves permission to be new at something.
Asking the question we think we should already know the answer to.
Calling someone who knows more than we do.
Admitting, “I don’t know what the next step is.”
Learning without interpreting every uncertain moment as evidence that we aren’t capable of doing this.
Because needing help doesn’t erase everything you already know. And having more to learn doesn’t mean you aren’t making progress.
You Don’t Need the Whole Map Today
I once heard that it takes three hours a day for three years to become an expert at something which honestly made me feel better, because it means I’m not behind.
I’m just…early. And maybe that’s worth remembering when you’re caring for someone you love, too.
You don’t have to understand every care option today, you don’t have to know what Mom will need a year from now, and you don’t have to solve a problem that hasn’t happened yet.
But you can keep learning.
You can ask the next question, get one thing organized, have one conversation you’ve been putting off, or find someone who knows something you don’t.
And tomorrow, you can know a little more than you knew today. That’s progress, too.
So if today feels foggy, don’t assume you’re failing. Sometimes clarity comes after consistency.
Fog doesn’t mean stop. It just means slow down and keep going.
A Little More Clarity for the Road Ahead
If you’re learning how to navigate life with an aging parent as you go, I’d love to stay connected with you.
Every month, I share real stories, practical guidance, resources, and lessons I’ve learned from nearly three decades of working with older adults and their families in the Save Our Sanity Society newsletter.
No pretending any of us has all the answers. Just practical help for the questions and decisions that come with this season.
And you can choose how you’d like to receive it.
Want It in Your Inbox? Get the digital edition delivered directly to your email.
SEND ME THE DIGITAL NEWSLETTER
Prefer Something You Can Hold Onto? Request the printed edition and we’ll mail a physical copy directly to you.
MAIL ME THE PRINTED NEWSLETTER
Both editions are free. Choose whichever works best for you.
If You’re Wondering Whether You’re Doing Any of This Right…
Sometimes the fog isn’t just about not knowing what comes next.
It’s the weight of knowing someone you love is depending on you while you’re quietly wondering whether the decisions you’re making are the right ones.
If that sounds familiar, I wrote something for you.
Check out last week’s blog post. You’re Not Failing. You’re Carrying Too Much Without a Map is for the daughter, son, spouse, or family care partner trying to make the right decision while wondering if any decision is actually right.
READ: YOU’RE NOT FAILING. YOU’RE CARRYING TOO MUCH WITHOUT A MAP
Your partner in care,
Shelley
