"But You Will: A Letter to My Younger (Suddenly) Caregiver Self." By Tina Matras.

Spring Season Letters From A Caregiver

Apr 23, 2026

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Letters from a Caregiver.

“Letters from a Caregiver” is a weekly article where a caregiver offers wisdom, compassion, and hope to their younger self. No one knows us as well as we know ourselves, and even then, we may second-guess ourselves. The choices, challenges and tragedies we’ve faced have forged us in more ways than anyone can understand; in ways we’re still trying to decipher!

There are two previous seasons of Twenty-One Letters.

This Spring Season so far

Today’s ‘Letter from a Caregiver’ is by Tina Matras

I met Tina last year. She was sharing articles about caring for her Dad. I was particularly drawn to how she made the holiday season and travel possible for both of them.

Her articles offer practical advice, tips and examples of typical caregiving situations. I recommend reading this article, the first of a series where Tina offers new caregivers hard-won wisdom. I’m New to Caregiving. Where Do I Start? Oh, Crap! I’m a Caregiver, Part 1: Practical first steps for caring for an aging parent or elderly loved one when you’re new to caregiving.

Author’s Bio: Tina Matras has been a caregiver for elderly family members for more than 25 years. After 18 years in corporate technical writing and editing, she stepped away to freelance as a ghostwriter and developmental editor—a shift that gave her both the flexibility caregiving demands and the freedom to pursue a longtime passion. She created Dad Lives with Me to help anyone who’s found themselves in the caregiver role—often unexpectedly, just like she did.

But You Will: A Letter to My Younger (Suddenly) Caregiver Self

Dear Tina,

You’ll never be someone who enjoys talking on the phone. While your friends spend hours on the phone, you’ll prefer to talk in person because it makes conversations more real. But your dislike of using the phone will go from a simple preference to a blood-pressure-raising, shoulder-tensing response every time the phone rings.

That’s because two phone calls, years apart, will change your life.

The common thread? They’ll both throw you into unpredictable caregiving situations you never saw coming.

The first call will be a stranger announcing that your parents have just been in a car accident. And even though you helped care for your grandparents, including your grandpa with dementia, that phone call will be the one that truly makes you a caregiver because everything will depend on you from there on out.

Dad will suffer a traumatic brain injury that will leave him with anxiety and an inability to rationalize through tense or unexpected situations. His calm, go-with-the-flow demeanor will fade away, replaced with a man who comes to depend on you like a safety blanket more and more with each passing year.

Mom’s physical injuries will be minor, but her emotional and psychological injuries won’t heal. She’ll become afraid of everything and cling to you like a nervous toddler clings to her mother’s leg.

The second call will come 13 years later, and it will be worse. A doctor will inform you that your mother has stage 4 terminal cancer that has overtaken her body. The announcement will blindside everyone.

She’ll choose treatment, and while you will pray for a miracle, and believe God will do it, you’ll wonder every day if the treatment is worse than the diagnosis, because she will become so incredibly weak and sick.

The Crushing Weight of Caregiving

Once you get over the shock of that first phone call, you’ll think you can handle it. After all, you just spent ten years living and working in the gang-driven neighborhoods of inner-city Chicago. You’re used to middle-of-the-night crisis calls, emergency rooms, and chaos. You handled it with calm and rationality. But not this. This will leave you shaking and sobbing in your car more times than you can count.

Caregiving will consume your thoughts, steal your sleep, and send your hormones so far out of whack that your doctor will say, “I’m not sure how you’re still functioning. I’d expect you to be in the hospital with labs like these.”

But even though it will be the hardest thing you’ve ever faced, by far, you’ll find moments of joy, and you’ll get time for special moments with each of your parents that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

You’ll wake up some mornings one-hundred percent certain that you can’t make it through another day. But you will.

You’ll face decisions and contemplate each one, thinking that it’s the one that’s finally beyond your capability, and that you won’t be able to determine the best course of action. But you will.

You’ll have to learn how to care for a parent medically in ways you never could have imagined, certain that you won’t be able to manage it all. But you will.

You will do all of it, but not because you’re smarter, more capable, a hero, a super daughter, or anyone special. You’ll do it out of love.

You’ll learn most of it through trial and error. You’ll make mistakes. You’ll have victories. You’ll wish it would be over and then cry yourself to sleep for thinking such a thing because if it’s over, it could only mean one thing, right?

But even though you feel crushed beneath the weight that gets heavier with each passing year, you’ll look in the mirror one day and realize you’ve gotten stronger. It won’t look like bigger muscles or a more toned physique. You’ll see it in your eyes and your expressions. There will be a strength and resilience there that can’t be learned. It will be the kind that comes from years of doing hard things. Carrying that weight will build up your strength, not diminish it.

The Curse of Perfection

If there’s ever a time when we should be able to do something perfectly, it’s in parenting and caregiving.

But perfection is a myth this side of heaven.

Hear me when I say: Perfection is not your goal.

Mom was a defeated perfectionist, almost paralyzed by the curse of perfection in her later years. She knew she couldn’t do something perfectly, so she did nothing. And by the time she realized how detrimental that was to her and her loved ones, it was too late.

So she wisely and lovingly taught you not to be like her.

You’ll struggle with that because while you’ll understand that perfection isn’t the goal, you’ll feel like you’re throwing your hands up in defeat every time you accept less.

But you’ll learn to accept “good enough” because survival and your sanity demand it. And live by the mantra, “Just because something isn’t perfect, doesn’t mean it isn’t good.”

Three Words

I want you to learn three things before you’re 35 because they will get you through all that is to come.

1. Learn how to pivot.

“A usually marked change; especially: an adjustment or modification made (as to a product, service, or strategy) in order to adapt or improve.”1

Most of life doesn’t go as planned. Caregiving definitely does not. You’ll plan, research, strategize, and adjust. You’ll think, “Okay, this will work,” only to find that it works for a while or never works at all. You’ll learn to let go of anything that stops working or doesn’t work in the first place. And you’ll pivot.

2. Be flexible.

“Characterized by a ready capability to adapt to new, different, or changing requirements.”

This one’s almost funny. “New, different, or changing requirements.” You may as well get that tattooed somewhere on your body, because it will become such a part of your daily life. Every illness, injury, and diagnosis should come with a label: WARNING: Contents subject to change.

It doesn’t matter why your loved one needs care; whatever the reason, when you become a caregiver, you must be flexible with everything: Routines, abilities, disabilities, symptoms, side effects, safety measures, dietary needs, triggers, etc. It will all change dozens of times. You’ll drown if you’re not flexible.

3. Improvise!

“To make, invent, or arrange offhand; to make or fabricate out of what is conveniently on hand.”

You will plan for every eventuality. You’ll prepare ad nauseam. You’ll have everything under control. You’ll be ready for anything.

And then something will happen that you never saw coming.

Like the time Mom threw up in the car on the way home from her tenth chemo treatment. She’d never thrown up before until several hours later. She’ll be covered in vomit, with the smell making her continue throwing up.

So you’ll improvise.

You’ll see a Walmart just up ahead. You’ll park, run in, grab the first woman’s blouse you see, a bottle of soda, and a package of baby wipes. You’ll pay and be back in the car in ten minutes.

You’ll help Mom get changed, wipe the vomit from her face and hands. You’ll throw all the soiled things into the Walmart bags and toss them in the trash.

You’ll cover Mom with the blankets you always keep in the car, roll down the window, and hand her the 7-Up. Then you’ll continue driving home like nothing unusual just happened.

The ability to improvise allows you to be creative. You’ll learn to use whatever works and find solutions on the fly. You’ll become an expert at improvising.

Never panic. Panic is reactive.

Improvise. It gives you something to do, and taking action will help you manage the situation and your own stability.

And now for the most important thing I want you to know.

But God…

You will learn to walk with Jesus when you’re very young. And God will get you through so many things. But caregiving is where you’ll truly get to know His heart and let Him know yours.

There is a popular saying: God never gives us more than we can handle.

That’s not true. What is true is that He never gives us more than He can handle.

Caregiving is lonely. Caregiving is hard. Caregiving is emotional. Caregiving is exhausting.

But God can help you through all of it.

“Give all your worries and cares to God, because He cares for you.”

1 Peter 5:7 (NLT)

Your faith will become unshakeable as you watch God come through time and again. Not always in the way you ask for or hope for. You’ll beg God to heal Mom miraculously. You’ll be so convinced that He will that when your mom takes her final breath, you’ll sit there for several minutes, waiting for her to breathe again. But she won’t. And it will take you a few days to realize that God did answer your prayer, just not in the way you expected. He answered because Mom is completely healed—not just her body, but her heart and mind. She is at peace.

And you’ll feel God’s arms around you when you cry and rest in the promise that you’ll see her again. You will know that for sure. You will see her again, because you both accepted the promise in Romans 10:9-10.

That’s when it will become you and Dad. You’ll still be a caregiver.

You’ll want to give up. Daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, but God… He’ll pick you up when you don’t have the strength to stand on your own. And you’ll keep going.

You’ll keep loving and caring, and you’ll thank God because now Dad lives with you.

With love,

Your older self

Three Rapid Questions

1. In a couple of sentences, describe one thing you do to move through fear or uncertainty during caregiving. Prayer is my go-to whenever I’m afraid or uncertain about anything. I also find myself saying “okay” under my breath a lot. I think it’s God’s way of prompting me with a reminder that I’m okay, no matter how chaotic and out-of-control life feels.

2. Thinking of someone you admire or respect, name three of their standout qualities. I’ve been blessed with many people in my life who I admire and respect. Three qualities that stand out are their unshakeable faith, their selflessness, and their resilience.

3. What’s one quote, movie, or book that’s inspired you? My favorite quote is “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose,” by Jim Elliot. I don’t want to miss what truly matters or waste my time and energy chasing something momentary or futile because my focus was misaligned.

Prompt for discussion:

What is one word or phrase that helps you in your role as a caregiver?

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Merriam-Webster, s.v. “pivot; flexible; improvise” accessed March 25, 2026,

Carer Mentor: Empathy & Inspiration

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