Accepting moments of happiness amid the weight of caregiving

I am learning that joy and caregiving can exist side by side

Written by Samuel Ike |

I catch myself smiling at a funny video on my phone while waiting in line at the pharmacy. Almost immediately, I feel a pang of guilt.

My mum is at home dealing with another wave of fatigue and bone pain, and here I am finding a small moment of lightness. The smile quickly fades away.

Rather than feel joy, I find myself feeling distraught, angry, and worried all at the same time. “How can I allow myself to enjoy even this tiny joy when she is suffering?” I ask myself. The guilt arrives fast and familiar, like an old companion that refuses to leave.

This is one of the quieter struggles of caregiving I rarely talk about.

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There are moments when life offers small pockets of happiness — a good song on the radio during the drive home, a brief conversation with a friend, the taste of a warm meal I actually enjoy. In those seconds I feel like myself again. Then the guilt rushes in. How dare I feel light when my mum’s days are heavy? How can I laugh or relax when she is enduring so much?

I have learned that this guilt is almost automatic. It comes from love, from the deep wish to carry some of her burden. But it also steals from both of us. When I deny myself small joys, I become more exhausted and less present for her. The guilt does not ease her pain. It only adds to mine.

So I am slowly learning a gentler way.

I allow the small joys without pushing them away. I notice the warmth of the sun on my face during a short walk, the pleasure of a cold drink after a long day, and the comfort of a few quiet minutes with a book. I let myself feel them fully, even if only for a moment. Then I carry that lightness back to her — a better version of myself, more able to sit with her in the hard times.

These small joys do not diminish my love or my commitment. They sustain them.

The guilt is still there, but it is quieter now. I remind myself that my mum would not want me to live in constant heaviness. She has always wanted me to live fully, even as we walk this path together.

I am learning that joy and caregiving can exist side by side. The small happinesses do not betray her struggle. They help me keep showing up with an open heart.


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