✨ Caregiver’s Corner — Post #1: Living Between Timers
- Shaynise Robinson
- Mar 4
- 3 min read
Caregiving has a way of rearranging your entire life without asking permission. One day you’re moving through the world with a sense of who you are, what you love, and how you
spend your time — and then suddenly everything becomes measured in medication schedules, alarms, oxygen tanks, and the subtle changes in your child’s breathing.
My days are built around Raegan’s needs: medication timers, doctor’s appointments, advocating in every room we enter, monitoring symptoms because early intervention can be critical, breathing treatments, making sure we have enough oxygen to move around, emergency room visits, hospital stays, feeding tubes and feeds, schoolwork, and the constant mental checklist that never turns off.
I love my daughter with everything in me. What I do for her comes from a place of deep love, and I will continue doing it until my body physically cannot. I wouldn’t choose a different life, because choosing differently would mean choosing a life without her — and that’s not a world I want to imagine.
But loving her doesn’t erase the truth: somewhere along the way, I stopped recognizing myself.
What Research Says About This Feeling
Caregivers often experience a decline in emotional well‑being over time. A 2025 study in the Journal of Clinical Psychology in Medical Settings found that caregivers frequently feel “engulfed” by the illness they manage, especially when the illness becomes part of their identity. This engulfment is linked to increased burden and reduced well‑being.
Another study from the University of Pennsylvania highlights that caregiving is not just a role — it becomes a transformative identity event. Caregivers often describe emotional strain, identity disruption, and the need to reconstruct who they are while caregiving or after caregiving ends.
And narrative identity research shows that caregiving experiences shape how caregivers see themselves, influencing both positive and negative self-beliefs. These self-narratives can guide resilience — or deepen burnout.
Reading these findings doesn’t make the load lighter, but it does make me feel seen. It reminds me that what I’m feeling isn’t weakness — it’s the predictable impact of carrying so much for so long.
The Part No One Teaches You: How to Take Care of Yourself
People love to say, “Make sure you take care of yourself.”
But no one ever tells you how.
How do you take care of yourself when your child’s health depends on your vigilance?
How do you rest when the alarms don’t stop?
How do you step away when stepping away feels dangerous?
How do you breathe deeply when your life is built around someone else’s breath?
I’m in a place where I miss my old self — not because I want to abandon who I am now, but because I want to bring her with me. I want to go back, grab her hand, and say:
“Come on. We have a lot to catch up on. Let’s figure out how to merge who we were with who we need to be now.”
I used to love holistic health coaching. I used to pour into my own wellness. I used to have space to think about myself. And I know I’ll return to that part of me when we’re on the other side of this season. But right now, even my own holistic health has taken a back seat.
I’m trying — desperately — to find my way back to myself. Not the old version. Not the current version. But a version that honors both.
🌼 What I’m Holding Onto
I’m holding onto the belief that I can be both:
the caregiver Raegan needs
and the woman I’m still becoming
I’m holding onto the hope that I can merge my past passions with my present purpose. I’m holding onto the truth that loving my daughter fiercely doesn’t require losing myself completely.
And I’m holding onto the small moments — the laughter, the quiet mornings, the victories that only we understand — because they remind me that even in the hardest seasons, there is still beauty.
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