The mediator slides the parenting schedule across the table, and you’ve already color-coded your copy. For months, you’ve been the reasonable one: answering emails within the hour, agreeing to the furniture split without a fight, keeping every call calm. Everyone says you’re handling this so well.
Then the mediator turns to you and asks what you want for yourself. Not for the kids, not to keep the peace. For you. And nothing comes.
I’m handling everything. I just don’t know what I want.
When you’re coping with a major life change, the strategies that have carried you through hard seasons are probably the ones you reach for first: planning ahead, staying calm, keeping busy. They keep life moving. What they don’t always leave room for is noticing how you’re feeling and what you need. You may recognize them from the way old patterns resurface during transitions.
The same thing can happen when you’re caring for an aging parent.
The appointments are scheduled. You’ve spoken with the insurance company, made the necessary calls, and started figuring out what your mother will need next. Her forgetfulness has become more frequent, and you’re worried about what that means. But there’s always another detail to manage, another question to answer, or another decision to make.
When your best friend asks how you’re doing, you say you’re fine. You might admit that it’s hard, but then you quickly reassure her that you’re managing. You stay in your familiar, I’ve-got-this mode.
And perhaps you haven’t had much opportunity to consider what it means to watch your mother change.
Sometimes, though, the feelings break through. Your eyes fill with tears as you sit in the exam room and the doctor explains the results. You feel a heaviness you can’t quite name when you think about what may be changing between you. But there’s another appointment to schedule, another call to make, another thing that needs your attention.
You keep moving, even when part of you needs to stop.
Planning, anticipating problems, staying organized: these are skills you have. You know how to prepare for a deadline and manage the unexpected. It’s second nature. It’s how you operate.
But knowing how to manage the practical details doesn’t mean you know how to experience everything that’s changing. You cope by staying busy, focusing on what needs to be done and on everyone else. It’s what gets you through. A major life change often asks for something else: to grieve, to need someone, to decide what you want. Doing more of what has always worked can’t do that.
Why aren’t your usual coping strategies enough during a major life change?
You can make the calls, gather the information, answer the questions, and handle the decisions. But even after the practical details are taken care of, the worry, sadness, and uncertainty may still be there.
That’s because managing a situation and experiencing it are not the same thing. Planning and staying busy can give you direction when so much feels uncertain. But they can’t tell you what you’re feeling, what you’ve lost, or what you need as your life changes.
Your coping strategies aren’t broken. They’re doing a job that isn’t enough on its own.
Can you be coping with a life change and still feel disconnected from it?
Yes. You can keep everything running and still feel like you’re on the outside looking in.
In your relationships. You’re showing up, helping, listening, and keeping things on track. But when someone asks how you’re doing, you talk about the appointments you’ve arranged, the decisions you’ve made, or what needs to happen next. You don’t say much about how it feels to watch your mother change or what you’re afraid might happen. Other people may see how well you’re managing without realizing how much you’re carrying.
In your body. You may feel exhausted even when you’ve had a chance to rest. Your mind keeps moving through the next responsibility, and the tension or fatigue doesn’t seem to lift. You can get through the day, but that doesn’t mean you feel restored.
In knowing what you want. You know what needs to happen for your children, your parents, your partner, or your work. But when someone asks what you want, you may not have an answer. When you’ve spent so much time paying attention to what others need, it gets harder to know what you’re feeling or what matters to you.
What happens when you’re always focused on what comes next?
This often shows up in small moments. Maybe you keep trying to make things right by being thoughtful, available, and supportive, but when you’re finally alone, you feel relieved.
When a friend calls again to vent, you listen, even though you’re busy or tired, and even though she rarely asks how you’re doing.
You’re at your child’s game with snacks, chairs, blankets, a sunshade, and drinks for everyone. The other parents are chatting with you, and you’re nodding along. But your attention is somewhere else: what needs to happen when you get home, what you forgot to take care of, and what tomorrow will require.
You have everything you need for the afternoon. But you’re barely experiencing it. Even moments that could offer a little relief become another opportunity to stay focused on what’s next.
Why is it so hard to set aside familiar coping strategies?
These ways of coping have gotten you through before. They kept things steady when you felt overwhelmed and scared. Setting them down can feel risky, especially when you don’t yet know how you’ll manage without them.
Back at the mediator’s table, you may still not have an answer when someone asks what you want for yourself. But perhaps you notice something about the question. It’s been a long time since you’ve given yourself much room to consider it.
The strategies that have helped you get through this change are still useful. But they can also keep your attention on the next task, rather than on what you need now.
If a major life change has you noticing that the way you’ve always coped isn’t leaving much room for your own experience, therapy for life transitions can be a place to slow down and understand what’s happening beneath the surface. I offer in-person therapy in Leesburg, VA, and online therapy across Virginia, Maryland, and DC. I’d be glad to talk with you.
Written by Carminda Passino, LCSW
If my writing resonates with you, you’re welcome to stay in touch. I’m Carminda Passino, LCSW, and I share updates every so often—when something feels genuinely supportive or worth passing along.