Welcome to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast. This program is dedicated to providing practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for caregivers. I am a caregiver and I have been for over 10 years. I have been doing it alone for most of my journey and have been through many ups and downs. I don’t always mention it on the podcast, but today I just wanted to make sure that you know that I get it. I understand because I have been through a lot of it. Anyway, we appreciate your listenership today. Please be assured that you are not alone on this journey; together, we will navigate the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
As always, let me remind you: this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get to work.
I hope this story resonates with you.
Jason had always been known as the strong one. The rock. The dependable, steady hand that held everything together when his world felt like it was falling apart. When his wife, Sarah, was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s, he didn’t hesitate—he stepped into the role of full-time caregiver without a second thought. He promised her, and himself, that he would be strong enough for both of them.
At first, he managed everything with precision—doctor’s appointments, medications, routines designed to keep her comfortable and engaged. He brushed off the concern of friends and family who told him he needed to take care of himself, too. He didn’t have time for that. He had to be strong.
But strength, the way he had always understood it, was slowly breaking him. The sleepless nights, the moments when Sarah didn’t recognize him, the times she lashed out in confusion—it all built up inside him, unspoken, unacknowledged. He refused to let himself cry, refused to share the weight of his emotions with anyone. He was supposed to be the strong one.
Until one evening, everything caught up to him. Sarah had been particularly agitated that day, resisting care, pacing the house, searching for something that didn’t exist. He had tried to redirect her, soothe her, but nothing worked. And then, out of nowhere, she looked at him with a sharpness he hadn’t seen in years and snapped, “You don’t belong here. Where’s my husband?”
Something inside him cracked. He stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and sank to the floor. For the first time since her diagnosis, Jason let himself sob. Not quiet, controlled tears—but deep, unrestrained sobs that he had kept locked away for so long. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t try to hold himself together.
That night, something changed. He realized that being strong didn’t mean carrying everything alone. It didn’t mean suppressing his emotions or pretending he wasn’t breaking inside. Strength, real strength, meant allowing himself to feel. To grieve. To acknowledge that this was hard and that he didn’t have to endure it in silence.
Jason reached out to a caregiver support group online. He started journaling—just small entries, at first, about his day and his feelings. He let himself cry when he needed to, without shame. And he learned that releasing his emotions didn’t make him weaker; it made him a better caregiver.
So many of us, as caregivers, take on the role of the strong one. We push our emotions down, telling ourselves that we don’t have time to feel, that we need to be the anchor for everyone else. But emotional suppression comes at a cost. Studies show that caregivers who bottle up their emotions experience higher levels of stress, anxiety, and even physical health problems like high blood pressure and weakened immune systems.
Being the strong one doesn’t mean you have to carry the burden alone. Strength is found in acknowledging your emotions, in seeking support, in finding ways to release the weight you carry.
So how do we do that?
First, start by giving yourself permission to feel. It sounds simple, but so many caregivers deny themselves this basic right. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, let yourself sit with that emotion instead of pushing it down.
Second, find an outlet that works for you. Whether it’s journaling, talking to a trusted friend, joining a support group, or seeking therapy—there is no shame in needing a place to release what’s inside you.
Third, understand the difference between resilience and emotional suppression. Resilience is the ability to process emotions and move forward, while suppression is bottling everything up until it explodes. The more we suppress, the more we risk burnout, resentment, and even depression.
If you’ve been struggling with being the strong one, I want you to remember this: you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to hold everything inside. There is power in vulnerability, in allowing yourself to be human. And when you do, you may find that not only does it make you a better caregiver, but it also makes you a healthier, more whole version of yourself.
If this episode resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever struggled with feeling like you have to be the strong one? Share your story in the comments or email me.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Caregiving is hard, but you are not alone. Let’s keep learning, growing, and finding new ways to bring more peace to our journey. Until next time remember you’ve got this!