Most of us don't prepare to be caregivers. We're simply living life—until a phone call, a diagnosis, or a hospital stay flips everything upside down. A dear friend has been battling some health issues since March. At first, it was diagnosed as a pesky tumor that needed to be removed and watched. No harm, no foul, but fast forward to August, and the pain returned with a diagnosis of cancer. Twelve days later, she was gone. My heart, along with many others, is broken. Why should someone be taken so early, so young, so full of life? It makes no sense, and I know many of you have been in this same position. My friend came home with grief, fear of what was next, and a brochure in her hands. Hospice services were arranged, but I don't think she was prepared to see a hospital bed, walker, wheelchair, potty chair—all at once. Her safe space became unrecognizable. Her friends wanted to help but had no roadmap. This is what unexpected caregiving feels like: overwhelming, messy, lonely. But this is why It's Called Life exists. Because here, you don't have to figure it out alone. I know we are just getting started, but please share this space with one person. That is how we build one person at a time. There are 63 million unpaid caregivers who need support. Let's be that lifeline! 💬 What was the most challenging part when caregiving first landed in your lap? Or, if you're in it now, what's one thing you wish others understood about what you're carrying? Your story could be the lifeline another member needs today. Alive, a little undone, and still devoted, Kelli💕

Life doesn’t play fair. This year has been heavy. I’ve said goodbye to one dear friend and watched another face a heartbreaking diagnosis. It’s reminded me—again—that caregiving, illness, and grief don’t follow rules. They come suddenly, they turn life upside down, and sometimes there are no answers. No cure. No clear way forward. And in those moments, I’m struck by two truths:💔 Grief often begins long before goodbye.💔 The only thing that makes it bearable is not having to carry it alone. To anyone walking through the unimaginable right now: your heartbreak matters. Your strength is seen. And your fear, exhaustion, and love are all valid. This is why I created It’s Called Life. Because while we can’t stop the storms, we can stand beside one another and whisper, “You’re not alone.” Please share this community with anyone who might need a little extra support. Alive. A little undone. Still devoted. — The Devoted Daughter

We created this for you. The Awareness Journal is a gentle, yet simple, way to start untangling the emotional, mental, and invisible aspects of caregiving. 📔 8 weekly prompts💭 No pressure, no judgment🖋️ Print or fill out digitally — it’s yours If you’re feeling a little undone, a little lost, or just deeply tired, this is your place to land. Please let me know in the comments: 👉 Which prompt resonates with you the most? Warmly, 💕 Kelli Alive, a little undone, still devoted.

I wanted to introduce myself to this wonderful community. I'm here to grow and seek support in my life after suffering a GREAT loss. I am looking for resources, as well as desiring to be a resource to others who may be in need. Thank you so much for having me and I hope to make some wonderful connections.

Caregiving conversations don't usually start with a plan. They start with a problem. We wait. We avoid. We hope the need won't grow; these conversations are hard. Here's how it usually goes: "We're managing (sort of)." A patchwork of family, friends, and neighbors. It's not ideal, but it's free. It feels "good enough." "It's getting harder." Needs change. Suddenly, it's about personal care, money, and driving. Conversations get uncomfortable. Independence is threatened. So the needle doesn't move. "We can't do this anymore." The breaking point. You have to move." "We're done." That moment is full of grief, guilt, resentment, and often sabotage. Trust breaks. We think love means avoiding the hard talks. But real love means having them. It means naming what's changing before it becomes a crisis. It means talking about the hard stuff—even when it's uncomfortable. It means planning so no one has to give ultimatums in anger or desperation. Caregiving is hard enough without also feeling blindsided and betrayed. If you're avoiding these conversations—I get it. If you're dreading them, you're not alone. If you've already had the "we're done" moment, I see you. This is caregiving It's messy. It's human. It's life. You're not failing because it's hard. You're not broken for struggling. You're becoming. — Kelli Bradley, The Devoted Daughter