Dear Vanessa,
I’ve been taking care of my dad every day since his stroke. I love him, but lately I get so tired, irritated, and even numb. I feel guilty because I’m supposed to care, not complain. I don’t think I’m depressed, but something feels off and I don’t know what it is.
Ethan
Dear Ethan,
Thank you for your honesty. Many people taking care of a loved one never say out loud what you just wrote, but quietly feel the same way.
There is a name for what I think you’re describing, and it doesn’t mean you love your dad any less. It’s called compassion fatigue. It happens when the heart gets tired from caring deeply for someone who needs you every day. Unlike burnout, which is usually caused by workload or pressure, compassion fatigue comes from emotional giving. It shows up when we keep showing up with our whole heart, even when we feel exhausted, afraid, or unappreciated.
Most people expect caregiving to be a mix of hard work and love. Few are warned that it can also feel heavy. Imagine seeing someone you care about in pain, knowing you can’t fix everything, and trying to stay strong anyway. That takes emotional strength that slowly wears down if we don’t “refill” ourselves.
Often, caregivers confuse compassion fatigue with failure. We start thinking, “If I really cared, I wouldn’t feel this way,” when the truth is the opposite: we feel this way because we care. Love, responsibility, sadness, pressure, fear, and guilt can all live in the same body. And the body eventually says, “Please rest.”
The tricky part is that caregiving doesn’t give us an off switch. Life keeps moving. Medications need to be given, meals prepared, moods understood, and safety monitored. Meanwhile, everyone expects us to be grateful we still have our loved one. Gratitude is important, yes- but so is honesty. You can love your dad and still feel tired. You can be devoted and still feel frustrated. You can give so much, and still need a break.
Compassion fatigue is not a personal flaw. It’s a sign your heart needs care too. Just as we protect the people we care for, we must learn to protect our own emotional capacity. That may mean resting without guilt, asking for help, talking to someone who understands, or simply giving yourself permission to be human.
Ethan, your love for your dad is clear. What you’re feeling is real, common, and treatable. You don’t need to choose between caring for him and caring for yourself. The truth is, one makes the other possible.
Courage isn’t pushing through exhaustion. Courage is saying, “I need help,” “I need a breather,” or simply, “I matter too.”
Warmly, Vanessa
