There’s a strange quiet that comes when the person everyone depends on has to stop.

For six years, I have been a caregiver. Not the kind that clocks in and out, but the kind that becomes the default—physically, mentally, emotionally. I’ve managed appointments, medications, meals, hygiene, haircuts, lawn care, paperwork, and everything in between for my dad. I learned how to do things I never imagined I’d be responsible for, and I did them without complaint because love doesn’t ask for applause.

But love does take a toll.

Somewhere along the way, I became very good at pushing through. Fatigue became normal. Pain became background noise. Rest became something I’d “get to later.” And later kept getting postponed because there was always someone else who needed me more.

Until my body needed me.

I didn’t end up in the hospital because I was careless or reckless. I ended up there because I was resilient for too long. Because I kept showing up while quietly disappearing from myself.

After being previously diagnosed with Depression, I found my way back to me. Due to the challenges of not having reliable help, I was limited in finding work with a manageable living wage and a job gap, which was new territory for me. In addition, I was now faced with ageism, something I’d never experienced before either. So I pivoted and found an entry position in tech and surprisingly I loved it! Why? Because I had fallen in love with caring for Seniors and this job allowed me to do so remotely. So after a year, I was promoted, and when I got the call confirming it and going over a few details, I was told that it was paying less than what was advertised……………..skkkkkkkkkkrtttttt Say what nie? (yes, that was on purpose because wth!)

It made no sense! I struggled with moving forward with training, because I enjoyed my job so much, because what choice did I have, the bills weren’t gonna pay themselves and my previous manager kept putting up roadblocks every time I posted out (5 times). I was bored in my current position and I just didn’t want to be on his team anymore because I felt like he was blocking my growth, but, that’s a completely different story that I may elaborate on later. At any rate, when I questioned my new manager about the pay difference, I was asked if I had proof of what was previously offered. The audacity was alarming. It didn’t make sense why I was being burdened with providing the proof of the job posting that HR is responsible for. 

I begrudgingly moved forward with the 2 weeks of training, and although I loved what I was learning, the lack of integrity that was being displayed from my former employer was weighing heavy on me and I became physically ill. I was already having migraines and going back and forth to the doctor, then they increased terribly and they were occurring everyday! It was brutal! 

And yes, I was still taking care of my dad through ALL of this. I took a leave of absence and reached out to a new therapist. She was great and helped guide me to face some hard things. I finally made my decision to resign because I couldn’t get past the lack of integrity that was being displayed and this new pain that my body was feeling. My body ached ALL over! Being aware that I had a routine mammogram coming up I wanted to make sure I got all of my big appointments out of the way before I submitted my resignation. On 07/16/25 I had my mammogram, a week later a biopsy. I submitted my resignation on 07/24/25. On Friday, 08/01, I got an email saying that my test results were in…CANCER. I sat at my computer completely STUNNED into silence, my heart racing, and filled with unbelief.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Writing that sentence still feels surreal. Not because I don’t accept it—but because I now understand it as information, not punishment. My body didn’t betray me. It spoke to me. And it spoke loudly enough that I could no longer ignore it.

For a long time, I believed caregiving meant self-sacrifice. I believed being strong meant being silent. I believed love required depletion. What I’m learning now is that none of those beliefs are sustainable.

Healing is not just happening to me—it’s something I am choosing.

I am healing physically, yes. But I am also healing the part of me that thought rest had to be earned. The part of me that believed asking for help was weakness. The part of me that thought I could indefinitely pour from an empty cup.

Being on the other side of care—receiving it instead of giving it—has been humbling. It has forced me to sit still. To listen. To accept support without explaining myself or minimizing my needs. And that might be the hardest lesson of all.

This post is not an ending. It’s not a dramatic reveal. It’s a marker.

A moment where I acknowledge that even caregivers need caregiving. That strength doesn’t mean invincibility. That love for others should never come at the expense of love for self.

If you’re reading this and you are tired—truly tired—this is your reminder: your body keeps the score. Listen before it has to scream.

I’m still healing and recovering, taking it one day at a time. Forced to sit still—and I smile because I’m grateful. The cancer was caught early, while I still had insurance. My story could have been so different. God, I thank You.

Today was my first day outside for a walk, slowly working on getting my stamina back. That 10-hour surgery certainly took a lot out of me. But I smile, because even though I still have a ways to go before I’m fully recovered, I can rest in the knowing that my healing is already on the way.

Until next time,

 Daphne
Full Plate Femme