A Reflection on Giving, Guilt, and Self-Care

As parents and caretakers, I think there comes a point in our lives when we question: Am I doing enough? Am I doing it right?

Within the past few years—especially this year—life has become a lot more manageable but also tougher in its own way. Since July of this year, one of my fur babies hasn’t been well, and this is what it has taught me.

Sometimes, I wonder—will I ever be able to give it all? As a dog mom, I often question whether I do enough. Do I neglect my babies too much? Am I missing out on being fully present for them? Then I look at myself and feel like I barely have enough time for me. Sometimes, I even feel like I’ve failed as a dog mom—unable to be there for my babies every time they need me, not responding to every cry, not always being present when they’re not feeling well. These thoughts weigh heavily on me.

When I get triggered or overwhelmed, I feel guilty for having hurt them emotionally, physically, or even spiritually. And in those moments, I get frustrated with myself for not being as loving or patient as I want to be. Despite all my efforts and intentions, the look in their eyes makes me wonder most days—*what did I ever do to deserve you?* *Am I worthy of being your mom?*

The more my curiosity deepens, the more I’m left wondering: Would they be better off with another family? Would they be happier in a different environment?

Yet, amidst these feelings, I realize that part of the journey involves understanding the delicate balance between giving to others and giving to ourselves. The line between neglect and self-care is often thin. Sometimes, the most loving thing I can do for my babies is to care for myself first, so I can be the best version of myself for them.

Most times, I wonder—if they could share their most honest and transparent thoughts with me, what would they say?

I question whether I’m overthinking, but then I remember: giving to yourself isn’t selfish. It’s essential. When you nurture your own happiness and well-being, you’re better equipped to show up fully for others. And in doing so, you give them space and time to enjoy themselves—and perhaps, you also teach them—whether humans or animals—that happiness and fulfillment come from within. A positive sense of independence that can only be found in the embrace of solitude.

Through deep reflection, even though it can be overwhelming, I am reminded that everyone is on their own journey to discover happiness and what true living means for them. I’ve come to understand, from a new angle, what it really means when we prioritize ourselves and show others that they, too, are capable of finding their joy. External validation is fleeting, but inner peace is lasting.

I’ve come to see that there is a greater beauty—even if it’s not always easy—in the precious moments when we simply allow ourselves to sit in presence with someone we love, watching as they process their illnesses, emotions, and thoughts. Though we may feel powerless at times, maybe that’s because we’re not meant to do everything for them. Perhaps what they’re going through is meant for them—to teach, to release, to grow. I’m slowly learning to accept that these are journeys they must walk on their own—that no matter how much I wish I could help, some things are for them to work through.

So, to all the parents, pet parents, and caregivers—you are doing an incredible job. Remember that your worth isn’t measured by perfection or doing enough, but by your love, effort, and willingness to grow and live. Sometimes, the greatest act of love is giving yourself and your loved ones permission to simply exist, rest, feel, heal, and be enough.