Caregiving and Mental Health: The Hidden Panic No One Talks About

Some days, it feels like I’m calm on the surface… and quietly spiralling underneath.

I’ll be doing something completely normal - making a cup of coffee, replying to an email - and suddenly I realise I’m clenching my jaw, holding my breath, running through scenarios in my head that haven’t even happened yet.

What if Mum gets a pressure sore?
What if my stepdad has another heart attack or falls?
What if I miss something, forget something, drop one of the spinning plates and it all crashes down?

Caring comes with so much love.
But it also comes with so much fear.
A quiet panic that lives in your chest and hums in the background, even when nothing’s wrong.

Anxiety Disguised as Responsibility

The world sees me as “coping.”

Because I turn up.
Because I get things done.
Because I can talk about medications and continence pads without flinching.

But what they don’t see is the running to-do list in my head, 24/7.
They don’t see the way I plan for every outcome - from minor inconveniences to full-blown emergencies.

They don’t see the toll that being on all the time takes on your body. The tension. The headaches. The fatigue that no amount of sleep fixes.

Always On Alert

It’s like my nervous system is on high alert - all the time.
Even when I’m sitting still, my brain is scanning for problems.

Has Mum moved enough?
Will we get the GP to call back before Friday?

Will the next hospital appointment clash with a meeting at work?
Did I lower Mum’s bed?
Can my stepdad get up off the new raised toilet seat okay?

I plan everything to within an inch of its life.
And still, I worry.

Because in caring, something can go wrong - and often does.

I Didn’t Realise I Was Anxious - I Thought I Was Just Being “Good”

For the longest time, I didn’t think I was anxious.
I thought I was just being thorough. Responsible. Reliable.

I thought lying awake at night rehearsing worst-case scenarios was just part of the job.
That never feeling relaxed was a reasonable side effect of looking after my parents.

But it’s not normal to feel like this all the time.
It’s not noble.
It’s not sustainable.

It’s burnout wearing a brave face.

What’s Helped Me (Even Just a Little)

I don’t have all the answers - and I’m still very much in it.
But I’m learning to offer myself a little grace.

🌿 Naming the anxiety helps. Saying, “This is fear talking” instead of assuming the worst.
🌿 Creating small pockets of calm - a hot drink with my phone out of reach, a walk without a podcast, just silence.
🌿 Letting go of perfect - reminding myself that “good enough” care is still loving care.
🌿 Getting support - whether it’s therapy or telling my manager that I’m not coping.

It’s not about fixing everything.
It’s about softening the edges of the fear.

To the Carer Living with Quiet Panic: I See You

If you’re living with the same hum of worry in your bones - I see you.
You’re not alone in this.

You’re not weak because you feel anxious.
You’re not failing because you’re tired.

You’re a human doing the impossible, day after day.
And you deserve rest.
You deserve peace.
You deserve support that isn’t conditional, delayed, or dressed up as “well-meaning advice.”

💛 Has anxiety crept into your role as a carer too?
I’d love to know what (if anything) is helping soften it. Leave a comment below and let’s help each other.