I want to start by saying this plainly: things are still hard.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, activated, or worn down by the state of the world—or by the quiet, relentless demands of caregiving—you’re not alone.
When things feel overwhelming—as they do in this moment—I can feel hopelessness creeping in. One of the ways I know to respond to that feeling is by using my skills to be of service to others. Sharing what I’ve learned through end-of-life care and grief support is one of the ways I try to be of service.
So while I want to be honest about the difficulty, I also want to share some resources here that I hope may be supportive for you.
And because life is full of contradictions, it feels important to name that even during hard seasons, moments of joy still exist. We recently had a massive snow day, and my youngest learned how to walk. There has been laughter, wonder, and that particular kind of joy that lives right alongside everything else.
Watching a child take their first steps is a reminder that growth and tenderness continue, even when everything else feels uncertain.
She was missing her right sock.
The moment was imperfect, ordinary, and deeply grounding.

The holiday season is often described as joyful, magical, and full of meaning. And for many caregivers and death-care workers, it is also exhausting, emotionally complex, and heavy in ways that can be hard to explain.
If you’re feeling worn down, overwhelmed, or burned out this time of year, you are not alone—and you are not doing anything wrong.

As I write this, I’ve just returned from a 10-day visit with family. We all came home sick, without enough sleep, and trying to get back into routine. At the same time, I’m doing my best to create meaningful holiday traditions for my young children: planning gatherings, getting outdoors (even in freezing temperatures), holding space for community because it matters deeply to me.
This is the paradox of the season.
Many of us genuinely look forward to certain traditions: decorating, gathering, familiar rituals that anchor us. We also carry the very real logistics behind those moments—physical labor, emotional regulation, competing needs, time pressure, and fatigue.
It can be beautiful and overwhelming at the same time.
That tension doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human.