The Power of Interdependence

Support may fade after crisis strikes, but the need for connection persists

Family caregivers, what if we stopped wearing our exhaustion as a badge of honor and instead embraced our reliance on one another? What if we believe people want to do good, and we lead with that assumption?

It isn’t easy. We know what it takes to ensure our loved ones receive quality care. We understand the long nights of sleeplessness and the waves of fear, anxiety, and uncertainty.

What lies ahead? Where will this journey lead?

Some days, all that sustains us is a cup of coffee, a thread of faith, and a fleeting moment of peace. We endure the pivotal moments when a doctor, nurse, or other provider shares news that alters the course of our caregiving journey.

What next? How do I navigate this shift?

We know the solitude, isolation, and misunderstanding. Who can I turn to? Who will lend a helping hand? Who will understand the magnitude of this?

These are the burdens we carry as family caregivers. We find ourselves on a path we’re told we must walk alone, where independence is held up as the goal.

When I began caring for my twin sister, Erin, the support was abundant. When tragedy first strikes, we have a beautiful ability to pause our own lives and care for others by sending messages, prayers, food, and more. During the first year of Erin’s brain injury in 2018, hope for her recovery was strong. Friends and family offered so much help that I didn’t even think of myself as a family caregiver.

But as many of us know, support can fade. The world moves on, but for caregivers, it does not. The work of navigating care continues. Challenge after challenge. Barrier after barrier. Hard truth after hard truth. And the road can be deeply lonely.

It was the Fourth of July weekend in 2019, and Erin just had her gallbladder removed the day before. This was one of Erin’s first holidays while living with a brain injury. I planned to spend the holiday with my kids — our favorite day of the year. But Erin was in pain and alone. She was in her room at the rehabilitation center, sometimes crying out in pain. She was miserable.

I remember the guilt settling in as I tried to enjoy the day with my children. I kept thinking I shouldn’t leave her alone. So I left my kids with their grandparents and sat by Erin’s side. Those thoughts — Am I doing enough? Will I ever do enough? — never left me during the three and a half years she lived after her injury.

When support fades

I know the heavy guilt that comes with caregiving. I still feel the weight of time I took away from my children to care for Erin. But I do know I can talk about it. I can ask for support when I feel despair. It may not change the circumstances, but self-compassion reminds me I was not alone — and am not alone now.

I want to acknowledge all caregivers, care partners, and those being cared for. You are my community. Family caregiving empowers ourselves and others, leading by example to show that interdependence is a strength, not a weakness, and essential for living with dignity. Others will come to us for guidance, and we will show that interdependence is a strength, essential for living with dignity. We must resist the belief that going it alone is noble. Healing and hurting can coexist. We are proof that healing and hurting can coexist at the same time. Caring for another person can lead to profound wisdom, and wisdom often comes from great challenge.

Yet, we must advocate for ourselves. We are essential. The people we care for are valuable in their dependence, and our health matters. Caregiving should not be invisible. It’s the heartbeat of families and communities everywhere.

Caregiving is foundational across cultures and deserves recognition. Let us reject the idea that caring for someone should lead only to sorrow.

Choosing interdependence

The late philosopher and Holocaust survivor Wolf Wolfensberger wrote about witnessing the devaluation of human beings firsthand. He wrote about how people with disabilities were the first to be executed in concentration camps because their captors believed they had no value. Wolfensberger later reflected, “Human beings not only are interdependent but should strive for interdependence….This means that people should be prepared to help each other, give help when it is needed, seek help when they need it themselves, accept help graciously when it is given, and hopefully give it as graciously as they should accept it.”

I take his words to heart. When I felt most alone, what brought me back were small kindnesses: a text message from a friend, a coffee from a stranger, a quiet afternoon when someone stepped in so I could rest. Sometimes, all I did was say, I need help. And people showed up.

Asking can be exhausting. But when we ask, we model something the world needs to see: that help is acceptable, human, and necessary.

Before her injury, Erin was a young mother who also cared for her dying father for three years.

As a single parent, she worked long hours to support her baby, putting her own well-being aside. Her newly developed panic attacks and other physical symptoms were attributed to stress until her heart suddenly stopped. She survived, but the lack of oxygen led to a severe brain injury.

I share this not to place blame but to highlight the importance of valuing interdependence. I don’t believe her medical crisis could have been prevented — we all experience unavoidable hardship. I have to let go of guilt and shame for what I think I could have done differently.

I hope her story reminds us that acknowledging our pain is sacred. In these moments, we should remember to trust our intuition, to be vulnerable with those who care for us, and to accept help without shame. May we continue to believe that people want to do good, and lead with that.

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A professor of arts and sciences in Global Family Health & Well-Being at Nebraska Methodist College, Sarah Rasby, PhD, focuses on the phenomena of family caregiving well-being. Writing has become a way for her to make visible what society often treats as private, individual or invisible work. Find Sarah on Substack at Yes! Care For We and on Instagram at @careforwe.