Permission Granted: Recharge and Refresh

Summer often stirs dreams of getaways—sun-drenched beaches, time with family, or simply a pause in the daily grind. But for many care partners, the idea of a vacation feels far from reach. Planning a trip may seem impossible when your days are full of to-do lists, medications, routines, and the quiet ache of responsibility that never really lets up. The truth is, being “off-duty” can feel like a luxury you can’t afford.

But what if rest didn’t require a suitcase or plane ticket? What if we redefined what it means to take a break—and gave ourselves permission to do so?

Let me share a story that has stayed with me.

A wife had been caring for her husband, who was living with mid-stage dementia. After much soul-searching, she moved him into a memory care community. She chose it carefully, did her homework, and even felt good about the care team. But still—she visited every day. She brought his favorite snacks, adjusted his blankets, reminded the staff about the small preferences that mattered. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them—it was that she couldn’t quite let go. She worried no one would care for him quite like she did.

Her children urged her to take a step back. They missed her. Her grandchildren were growing up fast. Eventually, and with great hesitation, she agreed to visit them out of state—just for a few days.

When she returned home, something surprising happened.

Her husband was content. His routine had remained intact. He greeted her with a warm smile, no sign of distress or confusion about her absence. And she—well, she returned renewed. Rested. Reconnected to herself, her family, and a life outside of caregiving. That visit gave her something more than rest—it gave her clarity. She had done the right thing. Not just for herself, but for her husband too.

The following summer, she made the trip again. But this time, she wasn’t wracked with guilt. She packed with anticipation. And her time away didn’t diminish her love—it reminded her that love can stretch and grow when we give it space to breathe.

Pause and Reflect

If you’ve been caring for someone day in and day out, when was the last time you asked yourself how you’re doing?

• What does your body need?

• What are you missing?

• What’s one thing that might lighten your load—even a little?

  
  

Sometimes the answers surprise us. Sometimes they break our heart. But asking the questions is the first step back to yourself.

What Holds Us Back

Care partners are often praised for their dedication, and rightly so. But that same dedication can quietly shift into depletion. Guilt creeps in—I shouldn’t feel this way. I should be stronger. I don’t deserve a break. These thoughts become barriers to well-being. And yet, no one—no matter how loving or capable—can pour from an empty cup.

The reality is: stress accumulates. The constant vigilance. The emotional complexity of loving someone who is changing. The loneliness that can come from feeling like no one else quite understands. These aren’t small things. They wear on the body, the spirit, the mind.

Recognizing that doesn’t make you weak. It makes you wise.

Redefining the Break

If hopping on a plane isn’t possible right now, that doesn’t mean restoration is out of reach. What would a mini-vacation look like in your day?

• Sitting outside with a cup of coffee and no phone.

• A ten-minute walk, just to feel your feet on the ground.

• Calling a friend who lifts you up.

• Listening to music that reminds you of who you are beyond your role.

• Browsing a bookstore or library—even if you don’t buy or borrow anything.

• Watering your garden (or someone else’s).

• Watching the sunrise with no other agenda.

• Sitting in your parked car and listening to your favorite song from high school.

Even brief moments of rest and beauty have the power to soothe a tired nervous system. They are not indulgences. They are necessities.

Learning to Let Others In

Trusting someone else to care for your loved one can feel like handing over your heart. It’s not easy. But it is possible—and often essential.

Here are some starting points:

• Start small. Let someone else help with one routine or task.

• Communicate clearly. Share what matters most to your person.

• Observe, then evaluate. Most care staff want to do well—but they may not know your loved one like you do (yet).

• Remember: Different doesn’t mean wrong. A care partner’s way may not be yours—but it can still be safe, respectful, and kind.

  
  

And something powerful happens when you open that door. You begin to share what you’ve learned. The unique insight you’ve gained—how to soothe, how to connect, how to advocate—can help grow understanding for others.

Your voice becomes a source of education, encouragement, and awareness—for neighbors, care teams, extended family, and even strangers who may one day walk a similar path.

You are not stepping away. You are stepping back just enough to breathe—and to let your experience become part of something larger.

Building a Plan That Includes You

Wellness is more than physical health—it includes emotional, social, spiritual, and mental well-being. And it’s not all or nothing. Tiny steps can lead to real change:

• Create a “support list” of people who can help with small tasks.

• Practice saying yes when help is offered.

• Identify the areas in your wellness that feel full—and those that feel depleted.

• Set a daily intention for something that supports your energy, even if it’s only five minutes.

  
  

You don’t have to do this alone. In fact, you were never meant to.

A Final Thought

You matter, too.

Not just in your role as care partner, but as a whole person—with needs, hopes, and a heart that deserves tending. It’s not selfish to step away; it’s an act of strength and love. And whether your recharge looks like a week away or five quiet minutes with your feet in the grass—give yourself permission.

Not just once, but often.

Permission granted.

Looking for support? Reach out. Let’s navigate this together.

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