Lesslee Dort

A long-awaited vacation — one carefully planned, saved for, and anticipated for months — should be a time of joy. It’s a chance to step away from responsibilities, recharge, and embrace the simple pleasures of rest. But life doesn’t always respect our plans. Sometimes, even in the middle of paradise, the weight of reality presses in.

I found myself in this exact situation recently. While I was enjoying a hard-earned trip, two people I love faced medical challenges. They are okay now; both have loving, caring people surrounding them. But at the time, I wasn’t there to help them navigate their struggles. I couldn’t drop everything and be by their side. And that has left me with a nagging sense of guilt.

This feeling is familiar, maybe even predictable. When you care deeply about others, the instinct to be present — to fix, to support, to ease their burden — can be overwhelming. And when you can’t be, guilt rushes in to fill the space. It whispers that you should have done more, should have been there, should not be allowed yourself to enjoy this break while they were struggling.

But guilt is rarely a fair judge of reality.

As caregivers, nurturers, or simply empathetic human beings, we often carry an unspoken belief that our presence equals our love. That to truly care for someone means to actively help them through their pain. But there’s another truth we sometimes overlook — healing is deeply personal.

I recently read an article by Jenna Ryu that struck a chord. She writes about the “fix-it” mentality — the belief that it’s our job to swoop in and solve problems for others. This mindset assumes that the people we love are broken. Maybe worse, it distracts us from something else: our own needs. Instead of constantly tending to others, we must learn to respect boundaries — both theirs and ours.

And part of that means recognizing that sometimes, the best way to support someone isn’t to always rush in, but to step back.

One of the hardest lessons in caregiving is understanding that the person in need deserves the dignity of their own choices. We assume we know what’s best. But do we?

Instead of imposing help, what if we simply asked, What do you need? Some people want tangible support — meals, rides, company. Others need space to process, to rest. When we respect their wishes rather than forcing our idea of care upon them, we offer something invaluable: autonomy.

And this works both ways. When we let go of the belief that we must be the one to fix things, we free ourselves from unnecessary guilt. It’s not our job to control their healing. It’s our job to be present in the way they truly need — not the way we assume they do.

I think back to times in my own life when my body needed healing. There were moments when I craved support, sure. But there were also times when I just needed quiet, time, and space to regain my sense of self. Remembering helps shift my perspective. Maybe my loved ones, too, need a similar space. My absence during their struggles wasn’t neglect. It was simply life unfolding as it does, outside of my control.

Self-compassion plays a role here, too. If I allow guilt to consume me, if I let it tell me that I shouldn’t enjoy my vacation, then I’m not practicing the very kindness I try to extend to others. Guilt doesn’t change what happened; it only drains joy from the present. And if I believe that my loved ones deserve care and grace, then I must believe the same for myself.

True care isn’t about making oneself feel useful. It’s about ensuring the person in need feels seen, heard, and supported in the way they choose. That might mean stepping in. But sometimes, it means stepping back and finding alternative ways to show love.

So, I take a deep breath and remind myself: I am allowed to enjoy this time. My love for others isn’t measured by my physical presence but by my willingness to respect their journey. They know I care. They know I will be there when they truly need me.

And in the meantime, I allow myself to be me and to do I what I need, too.

Caring for yourself doesn’t mean you care for others any less.

Lesslee Dort, a native of Northeast Michigan, is a writer, thinker, and lifelong explorer of the human experience. Through her essays and guided journals, Lesslee hopes to inspire readers to pause, reflect, and connect with themselves and those around them. Copies of her books are available for purchase at The Alpena News. Reach Lesslee via email at lesslee@regardingthejourney.com. Read her here on the third Thursday of each month.