India, Nov. 18 -- Most of my clients in therapy are largely between the ages of 35 and 80 and many of them are caregivers to either a parent, their in-laws or their partner. I too have been a caregiver to my in-laws before they passed away some time back. As a child, I watched my mother take care of my grandparents and later my father for about 20 years as he struggled with his health. In retrospect, it's striking that caregiving, despite being socially expected, remains largely unacknowledged and invisible. Whether we choose it willingly or unwillingly, caregiving reshapes us in many ways-our attentiveness and hypervigilance quietly reshapes who we become, and how we see the world. A pattern that I see among clients across genders is that on account of the belief and expectations around caregiving, caregivers can miss signs of their own burnout and fatigue. Often, the burden of gratitude that we carry towards those we care for is linked to the guilt we experience when we complain about how hard caregiving can be. It comes with costs attached whether its financial, the multi-tasking one has to manage, and the sheer energy it requires. Caregivers often withdraw, do not reach out for help and feel alone as they soldier on with their duties. By the time they make it to therapy, I see their capacity for joy and their vitality fading away as they find themselves consumed by their losses. We can deeply love our parents, partner, and yet be exhausted by the demands of caregiving. The duality can co-exist, and acknowledging that makes us human. In moments where we unconsciously impose hierarchies to pain, we forget that we need tender care, concern and a community too. At the heart of caregiving there are mixed feelings, anticipatory loss and big existential questions around how to build a good life for those we are extending care to. What adds complexity to family caregiving is the history we carry-the relationship we shared long before illness entered the picture. I remember a client telling me how he was raised by his grandparents, barely spent any time with his parents, and studied while living in a hostel. By the time he reached his 50s, he was caring for both parents as their cognitive abilities declined, and he couldn't help feeling it was unfair. He told me how all the wounds from the past came raging back and he oscillated between deep sadness for who his parents were becoming and feelings of abandonment. Therapy moved forward because he was clear about wanting to address his conflicting feelings and reconnect with compassion towards his parents. I do understand how everyone may not feel the same - yet this question about how we feel for those we care for determines not just the care we can offer, but also how we choose to lead our life long after the loved one is gone. Therefore, it's important to turn the lens on ourselves too while caregiving-- be aware of our needs without trying to trivialize them and become cognisant of what fuels our energy. Awareness doesn't mean that our needs may be met right away, but it allows us to keep parts of who we are alive without becoming embittered. My worry is that we have reduced caregiving to an individual problem. It's only when policyholders, organizations, communities make space for it and allow for leave, social support that we can go through it with grace and fortitude. We mist not forget that just as with grief, caregiving is what each of us will invariably step into at some point. In my book, 'You will be alright - a guide to navigating grief' I write that my ambition for life is the ability to love, to show up and to be present as a caregiver and to recognise the beauty in impermanence. Gifts that I could recognize only in my grief. May be adulting is simply an acceptance of these eternal truths....