"Nothing and Everything Will Prepare You for This Moment" By Brittany Carroll
Spring Season Letters From A Caregiver
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I’m Victoria. You can read why I’m publishing Carer Mentor here: Who Started Carer Mentor and Why? I created Carer Mentor to offer heartfelt empathy for Caregivers. It’s a hub of practical tools, resources, and insights. A community support network for all of us human-ing hard. ❤️ Start exploring here.
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
“Misunderstood, and everyone has an opinion,” By Victoria
“What It Takes To Embrace the Life He Has “ By Chris B. Writes
“The Long Road Home for a Different Kind of Future” By Haley Haddow
“Grace, belatedly..…Becoming the daughter she needed” By Sarah Bain
“Caring to Love.” A Letter to My Younger Self By Kirbie Earley
“My caregiving journey is a family healing journey” By Viva Mogi, MPA
Today’s ‘Letter from a Caregiver’ is by Brittany Carroll
I met Brittany last year, when she started writing on this platform. I felt a resonance with the big pivot she’s made to care for her father. She’s also educated me about ‘land loss’. I recommend learning more about Brittany and her family through these two articles:
My Career Trained Me for Global Crisis. Then My World Collapsed at Home. This is the first post from Life Bee Lifin’—a space I never thought I’d have to create. But life flipped, and here I am, telling the story I needed but couldn’t find.
My Father Got Sick and History Got Loud. Caregiving collapses time. My father’s health made land loss urgent.
Many thanks to Brittany for writing this letter. I think it’s clear from the tempo of the letter how tough it’s been, and how much resilience, compassion and courage she’s instilling in her younger self.
Brittany Carroll, Washington, D.C., April 2026, to my younger self in 2024.
Author’s Bio: Brittany A. Carroll is a management professional and writer based in the Washington, D.C. area. A former U.S. diplomat, she now navigates the role of caregiver to her father following a life-altering health crisis—and writes about what that journey has taught her about responsibility, identity, faith, and the systems we rely on in moments of need. Through her Substack, Life Bee Lifin’, she explores the intersection of caregiving, legacy, and the unspoken realities of stepping into roles we never feel fully prepared for.
Dear Brittany,
He will say it as a joke, softly under his breath while heading out the front door with that witty smirk. Yet this time, his eyes will not squint—and you will know he means it. The weight of his words will be too heavy to hold.
It will be almost two years since you moved into your house—the one you bought after returning from your tour in Iraq. And you will call the first man who ever loved you through his actions to help you make it feel like home. For months, he will do everything—install the blinds, mount the TVs, hang the curtains, install the shower rods, assemble the furniture.
Before your bedframe even arrives, he will be your very first guest. The two of you will sleep, squished together, on that green couch in the living room—the same couch where he will one day spend most of his days after his rehab discharges.
You will be so full of ideas and initiatives—not just for your nuclear family, but for your extended family too. The ambition that carries you through some of the biggest operations in the world will spill over into your personal life.
But I need you to brace yourself.
Because you will need that experience and that expertise for the greatest grief you will ever feel. You will not think about what he uttered under his breath at that door until one year from now.
Your strong, capable father—the one who drops you off at every sports practice, every viola lesson, the one who picked you up from your international trips around the world—your executor of dreams, Mr. Fix-It, jack-of-all-trades—will need you the most a year from now. And you will see another side of him that you are not prepared for. One that will shatter the images and memories you’ve always held.
I need you to know that you will be forced to take on a title you thought would first begin with your brother.
But it will begin with Daddy.
Caretaker.
I need you to know that your training will serve you well with the administrative aspects. It will not prepare you for the grief you will feel watching your dad almost leave this earth.
Remember the relief you felt getting on that last helicopter out of Iraq to return home?
This experience will make you want to go back.
Yes—you would actually rather return to Iraq.
You will lose count of the days you’ve cried. You will pray and sob yourself to sleep. You will start off strong—organized, persistent—but at some point, you will reach an exhaustion that no amount of sleep can fix.
The Type A in you will clutch her pearls if she sees your office.
It will be a complete mess.
You will not put your Christmas décor up until April.
You will stick to a diet—and then find yourself in a Wendy’s drive-thru or grabbing ice cream just to cope.
I need you to know:
It does not have to be perfect.
It is okay for it all to fall apart.
Ask for help immediately.
Do not feel bad for saying you are drowning.
And understand this—resilience may look like doing absolutely nothing.
You will be thrust into this caregiver role so abruptly, but you have the experience and training to execute, advocate, and protect the only man in this world who has loved you with everything he has.
He will need you a year from now.
You have always had that fight in you. Be mindful of your tone—but fight.
It will serve both you and him well.
You will not think about what he said again until his first week in the ICU.
“Who knows… I may not be here.”
I need you to understand that God makes no mistakes—and nothing you experience in life will be a coincidence.
There will be a reason you feel compelled to come home and take a D.C. job after Iraq.
There will be a reason you leave that first job after six months and take another that allows you to travel the world for two years.
It will not be a coincidence that on nearly every work trip, you reconnect with someone from your past.
That will be your farewell tour.
It will not be a coincidence that you return home just in time from a two-week trip to Korea to witness your daddy’s health decline.
It will be the Holy Spirit that tells you to go see him a day earlier.
It will be that same Spirit that has always guided you—to leave early, to apply, to pivot, to trust the unknown.
And that quiet tug you have been feeling—to leave the Foreign Service—will come to fruition.
You will resign with your dignity intact.
You will step into a new role in the nation’s capital so you can support the family that supported your dreams.
It will not be easy.
It will be filled with difficult conversations.
But it will teach you grace, mercy, and favor.
You will know God in a way you have never known Him before.
And the people you least expect will show up for you—and carry you through one of the hardest storms of your life.
You thought China during COVID was a storm.
This will rock you to your core.
I need you to be okay with not accomplishing all ten things on your to-do list.
One thing is enough.
I need you to be okay with holding your boundaries even when they are misunderstood.
They will protect your peace.
You will not have a manual for this.
You will feel unprepared.
But you are ready.
You have the experience and resilience to weather turbulent storms.
Take care of yourself.
You will need that discipline when this storm arrives—because the stress will settle in your body.
Keep going to therapy.
Go to the chiropractor.
Watch what you eat.
Keep your body moving.
You will find love before this storm.
And you will have to let it go in the middle of it.
You deserve a partnership that understands the weight of your calling—one that helps carry it.
But alignment matters.
Without it, your cry for help will be misunderstood as a complaint.
Let it go.
Your discernment will sharpen.
And in caring for your father, you will finally understand what love truly looks like.
It will change everything.
You will no longer crave perfectly curated photos or timelines.
You will crave a man who prays for you in the middle of the night when your back is against the wall.
A man who sees you and knows when to step in.
A man who asks, “What can I take off your plate?”
You will no longer chase timing.
Because alignment is better than the cost of choosing wrong.
You will be encouraged to stay silent about the hard, messy parts of life.
I am encouraging you to be brave.
Speak truth.
Even when it is uncomfortable.
You will not be emotionally prepared for any of this.
But you will be mentally and physically equipped.
And that is enough.
As the saying goes—
“Life Be Lifin.’
And still—you will show up.
In a couple of sentences, describe one thing you do to move through fear or uncertainty during caregiving.
I always pray when I’m uncertain. Caregiving is no different. Then I take a step back to fully understand the situation, problem, or conflict in its entirety. It’s easy to react, but I’ve learned it’s better to move strategically, even when it comes to matters of the heart.
2. Thinking of someone you admire or respect, name three of their standout qualities.
There are honestly too many to name, but I’ve been incredibly blessed with a circle of friends who have known me for a long time. When I ask for help, they don’t ask questions, they ask for the deadline. That kind of support comes from cultivating deep, long term relationships. If I had to name three qualities, they are observant, willing to help, and action oriented instead of reactive or complaint driven.
3. What’s one quote, movie, or book that’s inspired you?
I recently read The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store by James McBride, and it’s been a long time since a book made me get out of bed in the middle of the night just to keep reading. The storytelling is layered, rich, and deeply compelling. As I step into the literary world to write my first book, it has inspired me to sharpen my craft and write something just as hard to put down.
Prompt for discussion:
What’s a role or responsibility you stepped into before you felt ready—and how did it change you?
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