Siblings not pulling their weight

That sounds like an incredibly heavy load to carry, and then to have that pain dismissed or turned back on you when you tried to address it must feel isolating. Being labeled a "monster" for asking for some balance is a really harsh way to shut down a conversation. I'm here if you want to talk more about what's going on—what the dynamic looks like day to day, how it's affecting you, or anything else that's on your mind. No pressure to get to the point quickly.

You've been the primary caregiver for three years while your brother visits twice a year and your sister sends money and texts. Calling you a monster for pointing out that imbalance isn't a response to your behavior—it's a way to avoid the guilt of their own absence. What do you want from them? Do you want them to start stepping up, or do you just want them to stop making you the bad guy for noticing the gap? Those require completely different approaches, and I'd rather not give you advice for the wrong conversation.

You're not crazy for being tired, and you're not awful for wanting your life back. The fact that you volunteered three years ago doesn't mean you signed a contract to be the permanent sacrifice while everyone else gets to opt out. People change their minds. Circumstances change. You're allowed to want support. That "well, you're the one who wanted to do it all" line is a convenient way for your brother to check out of the conversation entirely. It shifts all the moral weight onto you so he doesn't have to feel guilty about his own absence. It's not an argument—it's a shutdown. What would it feel like to you if you could tell them, without shame, that you've changed your mind? Not that you regret helping, but that you need them to be part of this now?

No, that's not messed up. It's a completely human response to an unfair situation. You're not a terrible person for wanting your life back. Loving your mother and being her caregiver doesn't mean you have to erase yourself to do it. In fact, burning out completely helps no one—least of all her. And hating your sister? That makes sense too. She gets the emotional reward of being "the nice one" without any of the work or the cost. That's a sweet deal for her, and it's understandably infuriating for you to watch from the trenches. Resentment isn't a moral failing; it's a signal that something is unjust. The problem isn't that you feel these things. The problem is that your family has set up a dynamic where you're expected to be the selfless martyr while they get to be the good ones by doing the bare minimum. That's not love—that's convenience disguised as family. Does it help to hear that, or does it still feel like admitting these feelings makes you the bad guy?

You're right—I was too harsh on your sister. She's not a villain. She's just... absent. And there's a real difference between someone who's malicious and someone who's just not showing up. I shouldn't have flattened that. As for the guilt about being angry at your parents—it makes sense that it feels gross. They didn't choose this. But being angry at a situation isn't the same as being angry at them for being sick. You can love your mother and still be furious that you're the one up at 2am while everyone else gets to sleep. Those feelings can coexist. And no, you didn't make this mess. Your mother's heart and your father's memory did that. You volunteered to help, which was generous, but that doesn't mean you signed up to be the only adult in the room for the next three years. Your brother's line about "you wanted to do it all" is just him erasing the fact that the situation changed, and that you're allowed to change with it. What scares you most about setting a boundary—that they'll be disappointed, or that you'll actually be alone with this?

It is the problem. You're so good at handling it that nobody sees the cracks, and so they don't feel the urgency to help. Your competence becomes the thing that lets them off the hook. And yeah, if you say something and nothing changes, you've made things awkward. But they're already awkward—you're doing three people's jobs and getting called a monster for noticing. The weirdness is already there; you're just the one who has to live with it. You didn't make this mess by volunteering. You made a generous offer, and they let you run with it because it was convenient. That's on them, not on you. But you're right that you're good at making it look fine. What would happen if you stopped performing that for a little while? What if you let them see the exhaustion, not just the results?

I hear you. The wine, the crying in the car, the lying to your mom—that's a lot to carry alone, and it makes total sense you'd rather not have to ask for help. You don't have to say anything mean. You can just state the facts and the need. Something like: "Hey, I've been thinking about the caregiving load. I've been doing most of it for three years, and I'm reaching a point where I can't keep up alone. I need you to step up more—whether that's more visits, sharing some tasks, or just being more present. I'm not saying you're a bad person, but I need this to change for me to keep doing this." Or shorter: "I can't do this all alone anymore. I need you to take on more of the load with Mom and Dad." The thing is, you can't control how he hears it. If he makes it about you being the bad guy, that's his defense, not your truth. You're not making it a whole thing—you're naming something that's already a whole thing. Does any of that feel like language you could use, or does it still feel too exposing?

It makes sense, and it's not just excuses. Your concern for your mom is real, and it comes from loving her. But here's what I'd want you to consider: your mom already knows something is off. You told her you were fine and she probably knew you were lying. She lives with this every day. She sees the exhaustion, she sees you crying in the car, she sees the wine. She might already feel like a burden *because* she senses you're suffering and can't say anything about it. You're not making her sick by needing help. She's sick because she's sick. You setting a boundary doesn't add to her burden—it might actually relieve it, because she won't have to wonder why you're breaking down in silence. And no, you're not just making excuses. There are real stakes here. But you're also right that talking to your brother won't fix your mom's health or your dad's memory. What it might do is stop you from being the only one carrying the weight of it. Does it feel like your mom would be more burdened by you asking for help, or by you continuing to collapse in silence?