When Self-Care Feels Impossible

Self-care sounds lovely in theory. It’s the bubble baths and yoga classes and quiet mornings with hot coffee. It’s the pastel Instagram graphic reminding you that “you can’t pour from an empty cup.”

But what if your cup has a feeding pump attached to it?

What if your mornings start with seizure meds and therapy appointments?What if your nights are interrupted by alarms, coughing, or the low hum of machines?

What if self-care doesn’t just feel hard — it feels impossible?

Lately, my body has forced me to answer that question.

The Lie We’ve Been Sold

Parents of medically complex or disabled children are constantly told to prioritize self-care. And, of course, our health matters. But traditional self-care makes some big assumptions. It assumes predictable sleep, reliable childcare, a nervous system that isn’t permanently set to “scan for danger,” and the ability to step away without consequence. Some of us don’t have that.

We live in a low-grade emergency state, measuring time in medication windows, recognizing seizures before anyone else in the room, watching families we admire endure unimaginable losses, and advocating against a broken healthcare system for the most basic needs of our children.

So when someone says, “You just need to take care of yourself,” it can feel less like support and more like pressure

The Invisible Weight (And What It Does to a Body)

Here’s what I didn’t fully understand until about two years ago: Chronic stress doesn’t stay in your thoughts. It manifests itself in your body.

After years of hypervigilance, interrupted sleep, anticipatory grief, and constant responsibility, I hit a wall. Not emotionally, but physically. The inflammation in my body got so severe that kneeling beside the tub to bathe my kids felt nearly impossible. My knees could barely bend. My joints ached. I struggled to even crawl across the bed and lay beside my son to read at night.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a breakdown. It was quiet. And it scared me. Because this is the work. Bath time is not optional in our house. Lifting, kneeling, adjusting, and carrying is daily life, and it’s not going to relent.

Doctor ordered labs came back showing completely depleted stress hormones and a nervous system struggling to regulate. My parasympathetic nervous system (the part of the body responsible for rest and recovery) wasn’t functioning the way it should.

In simple terms?My body forgot how to relax.

My body had been bracing for years. Even when I technically had help. Even when the kids were stable. Even when I sat down. My nervous system didn’t believe it was safe to power down.

You can be strong.You can be grateful.You can love your life deeply.

And your body can still be drowning in stress.

Why It Feels Selfish

There’s guilt layered into rest in this life. How do you justify a workout when your child can’t walk independently? How do you spend money on yourself when therapies are expensive? How do you leave for dinner when your child depends on you for everything?

But depletion doesn’t serve our children, and burnout doesn’t make us better advocates. Ignoring our health doesn’t make us more devoted parents; it just makes us sick.

A Different Definition of Self-Care

Maybe self-care for parents like me needs a new definition. Something less indulgent, with more regulation, and less “escape.” Something sustainable. For me lately, it has looked like:

• Seeing my doctor and getting labs done instead of pushing through exhaustion

• Taking supplements and incorporating daily meditation to support my nervous system

• Prioritizing protein and hydration

• Short, focused strength training to rebuild what caregiving has worn down

• Protecting sleep fiercely on the nights we have a nurse

• Saying NO without overexplaining

• Going to therapy

• Limiting my social media intake (because, whose mental health is really improved by it?)

• Calling a friend

• And yes…an occasional pedicure ;)

Mind you, none of this is glamorous. It’s infrastructure. It’s maintenance for a body that has been carrying more than most people can see.

You Deserve Care Too

If we’re being honest, these things move the needle:

• Micro-moments instead of grand plans

• Systems that reduce mental load (automatic refills, checklists, calendar batching)

• Accepting help without apology

• Strength training to support the physical demands of caregiving

• Nervous system work — even five minutes of intentional breathing

• Regular medical care for yourself

• Permission to not be inspirational

Caregiver stress is not weakness. It is physiological, measurable, and it deserves attention. We need to remember that each of us is a human being inside this life. Self-care for parents like us isn’t luxury; it’s survival. And if we want to keep kneeling beside tubs, lifting our babies no matter how big they grow, advocating fiercely, and building sustainable futures for them, we have to tend to our own bodies too.