When Even A Bag of Chips Feels Like Too Much
Living Inside Care Creep
When Even a Bag of Chips Feels Like Too Much
Guilt shows up in caregiving in some of the strangest moments. It’s not just during medical emergencies and big decisions, but also over things that should not carry that much emotional weight, like a bag of potato chips.
I hadn’t eaten all day. I was running errands, managing logistics, thinking ahead to appointments, medications, and what still needed to get done. Standing at the checkout line, exhausted and hungry, I grabbed a bag of chips. It wasn’t thoughtful or planned. It was instinct. Calories now. Energy now. Something quick to get me through the rest of the day.
When I got home, I was putting groceries away and eating handfuls straight from the bag when my dad came in. He looked at me and asked, ‘Can I have one?” I made a face and said no. Not gently. Not thoughtfully. Just no.
He turned around, went back to his room, and sulked.
And just like that, chips turned into guilt.
I was angry that he was hurt. I was angry that he asked. I was angry at myself for buying the chips in the first place. He was on dialysis. Salt mattered. Restrictions mattered. I was already carrying the weight of protecting his health, managing the rules, and absorbing the consequences of every “yes” or “no.” And suddenly, over a single potato chip, I felt like I had failed at all of it.
Why did you even ask me?
Why did I put myself in this position?
Why does everything feel like a test I didn’t sign up for?
Caregiving doesn’t just ask us to show up physically and logistically. It also presents us with constant emotional negotiations. Every choice feels loaded. Every boundary feels personal. Even feeding yourself can feel like a betrayal.
The guilt wasn’t really about the chips. It was about the impossible role of being both protector and person. Caregiver and human. The one who enforces limits and the one who is running on empty. I wasn’t just tired. I was depleted. And depletion narrows patience, shortens grace, and sharpens our reactions.
What stayed with me that night wasn’t the interaction itself, but how long I carried it. Hours of replaying the moment. Hours of wishing I had handled it differently while knowing I didn’t have much left to give in the first place.This is the impact of carecreep, the exhaustion that builds with every task and responsibility.
Looking back now, it still feels raw. Dad is gone, and I still question the decisions made. What I understand differently now is this:
Caregiving irritation is usually unmet needs + limited or no backup.
That night wasn’t about potato chips. It was about the cost of caring for him but not me.
The story behind this article is below. Go listen first. Then come back and read.
Awaken Hope with Suzanne Horton on Caregivers
S3:E58 - Apr 12th 2026
If this is where you are, you don’t need to carry it all in your head.
Start with a space to process what you’re holding.
👉 Read the journal / start here
- Suzanne Horton
Founder The CareGivers Grief Commission
