Single, Never Married, Only Child: The Weight of Caregiving Alone

On National Singles Day, I was led to share a story that is rarely spoken about on caregiver platforms and that I have not discussed much either: the reality of being a single never-married, only child caregiver. This reality shaped my experience before, during and after the care of my mother in profound ways and has carries a unique weight of its own.When I made the decision to return home and began caring for my mother, I could not fully process how difficult this path would be.

On one hand, I understood the level of sacrifice and uncertainty (which scared me to death) at the same time I could have never prepared for it.

As my journey caring for my mom progressed, I had counseled and ministered to caregivers from every walk of life—siblings navigating complex family dynamics, husbands/wives caring for one or the other while raising children, and even millennials balancing their parents’ needs with their own lives. Yet my journey was uniquely different. There was no sibling to share the load, no partner to lean on, no built-in circle of support. It was just me.

Caregiving in my unique space brought a kind of loneliness, isolation, pressure, and uncertainty that is extremely hard to explain.

My mother, fiercely independent her entire life did not see and perceive she needed help and as a result resisted my presence. My presence especially in the first few years felt like an intrusion to her. I did my best for the first few years to pretend my coming in and out of town or my month-long stays were just normal.  Over a short time even that created conflict making my presence feel unnecessary in her eyes, even when the opposite was true. There were moments when her frustration and anger were directed toward me—not out of malice, but out of a deep disconnection from her own need. And in those moments, I felt the sharp reality of carrying it all alone.

Financially, emotionally, spiritually—I would go on a limb and say there are not family caregivers no matter what the ailment would not find themselves at some point feeling stretched thin; but,

for those who are single, never-married caregivers who are also only children they find themselves in a dessert not only stretched thin but isolated and alone left with their own thoughts, fears, strains, and limiting capacity being overtaken by a declining reality.

Life doesn’t always allow for the most stabilizing foundation before illness or crisis arrives. For me, the weight of this journey was both deeply destabilizing and yet strangely clarifying all at the same time. I knew who I was. I knew what decision was congruent for me and my character. I knew what scenarios I could not live with. For that reason, I pressed into resilience I didn’t know I had. It demanded a kind of soul-leveling strength that continues to shape the very person I continue to surrender to becoming.

This is not a story of despair—it is a story of revelation and truth-telling. To those who walk this same path: you are not invisible. Your journey matters. And while the weight is heavy, it is also a place where new clarity, courage, and even hope can emerge.— Deborah

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This is not a story of despair—it is a story of revelation and truth-telling. To those who walk this same path: you are not invisible. Your journey matters. And while the weight is heavy, it is also a place where new clarity, courage, and even hope can emerge

🎧 I also recorded a longer audio reflection with more of the story.

You can listen here if you’d like.