When the transportation was canceled, it actually didn’t come as a surprise—it was like I knew it was going to happen. My first initial feeling was disappointment. As someone who juggles a lot, I’ve come to recognize the signs of caregiver burnout—when even a small change in plans feels like a heavy blow. I hadn’t been out of the house this month except for yoga, and I was really looking forward to doing something different. I enjoy outings like this, and even more, I enjoy bringing my mom with me.
A Change in Plans, A Shift in Perspective
We had planned to go to the art museum. I hesitated to say anything at first. She was already dressed—so cute in a dress she received for Mother’s Day. My mom hasn’t worn a dress since 2006. She smiled after putting it on and gave a little nod of approval, which in turn warmed my heart. I don’t get to see many smiles from her, so I cherish the ones I do.
I walked over and played the voicemail for her, explaining what had happened. Her response was a slight frown and an audible lip smack. I began to go on and on about how much I really wanted to go. But with a shrug of her shoulder and a wave of her hand, she simply said, “It’s OK.”
An Unexpected Adventure
In that moment, I realized… it was OK. We could find something else to do.
We took a long walk around the neighborhood. I let her lead the way in her motorized wheelchair, and I walked beside her, trusting she knew the path. There was something peaceful about letting go of the plan and just being in the moment.
After some reflection, I realized it’s okay to feel disappointment—but it’s also important not to stay stuck in that feeling. I re-listened to Brené Brown’s Atlas of the Heart, which does an incredible job explaining emotions. It’s really like a dictionary for the heart. And what hit me was the truth that I had been projecting my own disappointment onto my mom.
The Emotional Ripple of Caregiving
That moment taught me something valuable—how quickly our emotions can ripple outward, especially when we care so deeply. I wasn’t just disappointed that our plans changed; I was grieving the version of the day I had imagined: laughter echoing through museum halls, shared awe at the art, maybe even a photo or two with her smiling in that rare, lovely way.
But instead of that vision, we were given a different kind of beauty—quiet, simple, and unexpected.
As we strolled, her motor humming softly beside me, I noticed how the sunlight danced on the pavement. Even without our original plans, there was connection. It wasn’t about the destination—it was about us being together, being present, even if that presence meant walking with my own feelings of letdown and slowly letting them.
Caregiver Burnout and Moments of Light
That’s the thing about caregiving—it’s this constant dance between hope and surrender, joy and grief, planning and adjusting. But in those moments when I let go of what I thought should happen and leaned into what was happening, I found peace. Not because the day was perfect, but because I showed up for it anyway.
And Mom did too—cute in her dress, quietly resilient, showing me (yet again) what grace in the face of change looks like.
Moments like these remind me that caregiver burnout doesn’t always look like exhaustion or frustration. Sometimes, it shows up in the quiet grieving of a simple plan, or the guilt that creeps in when joy doesn’t unfold how we hoped. But when we allow space for reflection, connection, and acceptance, we start to recover—not just from the burnout, but from the expectations that fuel it.
Because the truth is, even in the midst of caregiver burnout, there can still be moments of light—and sometimes, that light comes from simply walking beside someone you love.
