Caring for an aging parent often arrives without warning. One moment you’re managing your own life—career, kids, relationships—and the next, you’re juggling unexpected phone calls about doctor visits, misplaced hearing aids, or another burnt dinner. It’s a disorienting role reversal, and it can leave even the most composed adult feeling overwhelmed, drained, and—yes—angry.
The Unspoken Rage Beneath Caregiving
Let’s get real: not many of us discuss easily the rage caregiving can unleash. Perhaps it’s the moment your mom “forgets” her wallet once again at lunch, or she dismisses every caregiver you’ve gone out of your way to screen. The frustration is akin to a volcano, and what comes next is often not relief but guilt. A shame cycle that has you lying awake at 3 a.m., questioning how you can be so resentful towards someone you love so much.
But here’s the thing nobody warns you about: these emotions are more prevalent than we acknowledge. Psychologist Dr. Gretchen Kubacky tells us that much of this emotional upheaval is a result of role reversal. We’re trained to anticipate that we will be raising children, not that we will be needing to parent our parents later. And when this transition occurs, particularly during what ought to be our “freedom years,” it feels as if you are being dragged into a page that you had thought you had already closed for good.
Why It Hurts So Much
The caregiving stress isn’t only about the details. At its foundation, it’s a matter of identity—yours and theirs. Perhaps your parent resists assistance, insists on doing things “their way,” or becomes excessively reliant on you for things they used to have no problem with. It conflicts with your world, where time is limited and independence has been worked hard for.
Dr. Kubacky notes that behind the frustration often lurks fear. Fear of what your parent is becoming. Fear of what that says about your future. It’s a reminder of mortality, of decline, of things slipping out of your control.
When the Past Comes Roaring Back
It’s not only the issues of the present that can bring on these emotions. Old hurts within families have a way of reopening when we’re vulnerable and intimate. Perhaps you were conditioned to be silent, to stifle your needs, to put others first, and forget about yourself. And now, if you’re taking care of the person who originally asked for that of you, resentment and open sores can surface quickly.
Dr. Kubacky has a phrase for such moments: “If it’s hysterical, it’s historical.” That disproportionate response you’re experiencing? It may not be entirely about today. It may be connected to something you’ve been holding onto for decades.
Sadness Wearing an Angry Mask
While anger tends to take center stage, sadness quietly lingers beneath. Sadness at what’s being lost—your parents’ autonomy, your freedom, perhaps even a relationship you never had but always fantasized about. These moments can push grief to the forefront—grief for the parent they once were, the child you once were, and the positions you both now occupy.
Allowing yourself to feel both the anger and the sorrow is part of it. Grief does not often go in a straight line. It comes and goes, sometimes all at once.
How to Cope When You’re Running on Empty
So, how do you keep all this together without getting lost in the chaos?
Begin by accepting the fact: caregiving is emotionally messy, and you’re not the only one who’s feeling all the stuff. Telling your story—to friends, support groups, or even just someone who listens without judgment—can be a respite.
Then, preserve your energy. Draw boundaries where you can. Perhaps you’re on Tuesdays and Fridays, not every time the phone rings. Perhaps you share some tasks with others in the family or outsource them. Boundaries aren’t selfish—they’re survival skills.
And yes, self-care is important. Not the Instagram type with spa days and candles (unless that’s your thing), but the real stuff: time for yourself, space to breathe, room to feel your feelings without shame.
Finding Glimmers in the Grit
Even with the weight, there can be tiny moments that shine through. A shared quiet laughter. An occasional “thank you.” The comfort in your parents’ eyes when you arrive—again—even when you are tired. They will not take away the harder ones, but they can ground you.
You don’t have to enjoy every minute. You can be angry, sad, resentful—even while showing up and doing your best. Caregiving isn’t sainthood. It’s surviving a profoundly human experience with as much candor and dignity as you can manage.
And in doing that, you give respect not just to your parent, but to yourself.