There comes a moment in caregiving—not marked by any milestone or emergency—when you realize you’ve started to disappear.

It happens gradually, imperceptibly. You give a little more each day: your time, your sleep, your breath, your voice. Until one day you’re no longer sure when you last made a decision based on your own needs. You are present for someone else’s pain, constantly. But for your own presence? That starts to fade.

Caregiving, especially for a loved one facing dementia or chronic illness, demands a type of vigilance that most people cannot fathom. It reshapes your days and recalibrates your nervous system to crisis mode. In the name of love, you trade your boundaries for their safety, your silence for their peace. And all the while, the world offers you praise but little protection.

We tell ourselves we don’t have time to care for ourselves. But what if the real question is: can we afford to vanish completely?

This isn’t just emotional fatigue. It’s biology. Chronic stress from caregiving depletes heart rate variability (HRV), floods the body with cortisol, and wires the nervous system for survival. Over time, we stop responding with intention and begin reacting from depletion. This is not weakness. It’s chemistry. And it can be changed.

That change begins with a concept called emotional coherence. It’s not about being calm. It’s not about having it all together. Emotional coherence is a physiological state in which our thoughts, emotions, and bodily systems align. In this state, our breath deepens, our heart rhythms stabilize, and our minds begin to clear.

Through simple practices—like Heart-Focused Breathing™ or tools from the HeartMath Institute—caregivers can begin to train their bodies to return to coherence. These aren’t lofty self-care rituals. They’re practical lifelines. You can practice coherence while doing dishes, sitting in traffic, or waiting during a doctor’s appointment.

Using devices like Inner Balance,emWave and even my smartphone, I started tracking my HRV. What I saw was a mirror of my internal chaos—until I learned to breathe differently. Not just deeply, but with focused attention on the heart. In those moments, something shifted. The anxiety softened. My thoughts returned. I felt, for the first time in a long while, like myself.

These changes may seem subtle, but they are profound. Studies confirm that coherence improves sleep, immune function, cognitive clarity, and emotional resilience. But beyond the data, coherence offers something more elusive: it offers return. A pathway back to your center.

Caregiving will never be easy. It is, at its core, an act of profound love. But love does not require self-erasure. And devotion does not demand disintegration. You can show up for someone else without vanishing yourself.

What coherence reminds us is that presence—true presence—is not a byproduct of grit. It is a practice of regulation. A daily, sometimes hourly, commitment to remember that you matter too.

You don’t need hours or perfection to begin. Just a breath. Just one moment of attention turned inward. One decision to check in with your body and ask: what do I need to return to myself?

Because the longer we tell ourselves we don’t have time, the more we lose of who we are. And in the end, the person we’re caring for doesn’t just need our function. They need our wholeness.

So this is my invitation: to reclaim coherence not as luxury, but necessity. To remember that your nervous system deserves safety, too. That you, caregiver, are not just a vehicle for another’s survival. You are a person. You are still here.

And you are absolutely worth retrieving.