The Choice to Care: A Reflection on Caregiving

I don’t believe that everyone is cut out to be a caregiver, nor do I believe that caregiving is some predetermined destiny. I was not “born” to be a caregiver. It was a choice.

A choice to educate myself.

A choice to step into responsibility.

A choice to take on this kuleana with both hands, knowing it would reshape me.

And while I don’t think this choice makes me better than anyone else, I do know that it has changed me. It has made me stronger. More patient. More attuned to what truly matters. It has stripped away illusions and revealed the core of who I am— someone who loves deeply, who shows up even when it’s hard, who finds meaning in care.

Caregiving is not easy. It is exhausting, isolating, and often invisible work. It requires strength not just of body but of mind, of spirit. Some days, it feels like more than I can hold. But in the holding, in the choosing, I have become someone I am proud of.

There are sacrifices, yes. Dreams that have been paused. A life that looks different than the one I once imagined. And yet, there is also gratitude. Because in this choice, I have found something undeniable— growth, resilience, and a love that endures.

Caregiving is not my only identity. It is not the sum of who I am. But it is part of my story, a choice I made, and one that continues to shape me.

And for that, I am grateful.