caregiver guilt.
when one moment starts telling you who you are.
you said something
you wish you hadn't.
or missed something
you think you should have seen.
maybe nothing happened.
maybe you just wanted
to be left alone.
it happened.
then you made it mean something.
maybe i wasn't patient enough.
maybe i should have known.
then:
maybe someone who loved them more
would have done something differently.
what happened
became evidence.
the evidence
became a verdict.
you needed a break.
you wondered
what kind of caregiver
needed one.
someone else took over.
you wondered
if you had given up.
hospice began.
you wondered
if you had stopped fighting.
the circumstances changed.
the accusation didn't.
i should have done more.
even relief
could be used against you.
someone said,
i've got this.
your body let go.
then you noticed
how good it felt
not to be responsible
for what happened next.
and there it was.
what kind of person
feels relieved?
guilt remembers
what you wish
you had done differently.
then it gives that memory
more authority
than everything around it.
the years you loved them
have to answer
to the afternoon
you lost your patience.
the care you gave
has to answer
to what you missed.
who you were
gets decided
by who you were
at your worst.
more places to go.
some experiences need more room than one page.
this sucks. is a recognition-first book for
caregivers living through the things they
never thought they'd feel.
not advice.
just words for the experiences people
rarely say out loud.
