Ep 8 The Hidden Heartbreak_ Uncovering the Secret Grief Every Caregiver Faces

Welcome to today’s episode of Caregiver Secrets, where we share practical advice, research, emotional support, and resources for caregivers of loved ones. This week we begin a 5 part series called, The Invisible Journey: The Emotional Landscape of Caregiving. I call it the invisible journey not because you don't experience it, but because many of us don't realize we are on this journey. We simply chose to take care of our loved one and now we are on this challenging journey. The other reason I call it the invisible journey is because almost no one who is outside this journey acknowledges our journey, nor realize how difficult it is. Hi, my name is Reginald Reglus, and I am glad you are here today. I am a fellow caregiver. I have been serving my mom for about 10 years after she was diagnosed with dementia. As usual, let me remind you that I say that to impress upon you that I personally understand the challenges of caregiving. But before we go any further, it is important to note that this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please seek out a proper professional for any matter you are dealing with. My goal is to inform you as best I can, but you and you alone are totally responsible for doing your own research and taking the appropriate action. Today, in part one of this series, we’re diving into something that’s as heavy as an elephant sitting on your chest yet invisible to everyone else: anticipatory grief. This is an emotion that creeps up on you quietly, like a shadow at the end of a long day. I remember when I first felt its weight. It was early in my caregiving journey, long before I even knew it had a name. Picture this: I was walking around with an emotion that I could only describe to others as heaviness as I was taking care of mom. It was a new emotion and was very different and I could not find the right word to describe it. I thought maybe it was just exhaustion or maybe I was just dealing with worry. But no. It was deeper than that—more consuming. It wasn’t until a particularly raw conversation with a care consultant from the Alzheimer’s Association that I got my answer. There I was, trying to explain this strange cocktail of sadness and fear, struggling for words as I gestured wildly like someone swatting at invisible flies. Thank God she couldn’t see me. She paused, and I imagine she tilted her head, and said, “You’re describing anticipatory grief.” It was like she handed me the missing puzzle piece that I didn’t even know had been lost. Relief washed over me, not because the feeling disappeared, but because it finally had a name. Anticipatory grief feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, staring at the dark unknown below. You brace yourself for a fall that hasn’t happened yet, but you’re tense andready. Every time you hear your loved one say a name wrong or lose track of the day, it tightens its grip. It’s a relentless, emotional storm that swirls around you while you’re trying to cook dinner or drive to work, making everything feel surreal, like you’re living in slow motion while the world rushes on. And here’s the thing my friends: acknowledging it doesn’t make you any less of a superhero. In fact, it makes you more resilient. You don’t have to put on a brave face 24/7. Anticipatory grief is a testament to your love, not your weakness. Just like how you sometimes laugh when you shouldn’t—like when my mom once was telling a woman off like nobody’s business and when I looked she was talking to herself in the mirror. That was grief's strange way of letting in a bit of light. So, what can you do? First, name it. Trust me, that alone is half the battle. Once it has a name, it becomes a guest at your emotional table rather than an unwelcome intruder lurking in the shadows. Then, find your people—whether that’s a support group, a friend who just gets it, or even an online community that shares their own tales of caregiving with humor and warmth. Humor, by the way, is more than a coping mechanism; it’s a life raft. And remember, your goal is not to banish these feelings but to navigate them. Grounding yourself in the present helps, too. When that grief threatens to spiral, pause. Take a deep breath. Feel your feet planted on the ground and remind yourself that today, in this moment, you are here, and so is your loved one. Journaling is another lifeline. It’s not just for poets or teenagers with heartbreaks; it’s for you, the caregiver who needs a safe space to spill your thoughts without judgment. And let me tell you, it’s okay—no, it’s vital—to find moments of joy amidst all this. It doesn’t make you a hypocrite to laugh at something silly, even while facing this grief. In fact, those moments are what keep you from being consumed by the heaviness. I still smile when I remember my mom in church one time yelled out in church “That’s not true” after the pastor made a statement. That memory is a tiny, defiant flame in the face of anticipatory grief’s storm. So, hold space for yourself. Be gentle with your heart as you prepare for what’s ahead, balancing it with moments that root you in the now. This journey is hard, but you are strong. And while anticipatory grief may be a part of your story, so too can resilience, humor, and hope. Thank you for being here with me today. Next time, we’ll unravel another layer of the caregiving experience—one many avoid but we’re diving straight into: guilt, and how to show yourself the kindness you so freely give to others. Take care of yourself, and don’t forget to laugh, even when life makes no sense. Until next time, you’ve got this. Oh, if this podcast is helping you, please continue to listen and please share it with others.

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