The Sanitized Release
I was already mentally calculating the fastest route to the fire escape when Sarah stopped me by the coffee machine. Not because I was fleeing a hazard, but because I needed a structural reference, something solid, something that hadn’t suddenly forgotten how to use a fork. “Oh, hey, how are things?” she asked, adjusting the lid on her cup, the question barely registering as a human noise.
My mouth moved before my brain could run the security scan. “Dad’s great, actually. We had a really good day 1 yesterday. The physical therapist seems to be working; he’s more engaged. We even laughed a little, which felt monumental.”
That was the sanitized, 141-word press release version. The version where I conveniently omitted the 4 a.m. wrestling match on the floor, the lingering chemical smell that adheres to your clothes long after the laundry, or the quiet, terrifying thought that flashed through my mind when I locked the bathroom door:
I hate this. I hate him.
We lie about caregiver burnout not because we are intentionally deceitful, but because the truth-the specific, visceral truth-is culturally inadmissible. We are trapped in the tyranny of ‘being fine.’
The Myth of Magnesium and Mindfulness
I’ve tried the self-care advice, the kind that demands you practice ‘mindfulness’ while simultaneously managing a medication schedule that looks like a stock market

















































