I know the guilt. I mean, it's insidious, that feeling. My daughter, she's 50-ish, runs her own business, and I catch the flicker in her eyes sometimes — that exhaustion. I remember feeling it with my own mother, the sheer, relentless *weight* of it. Wishing for a brief reprieve, a small remission from the constant demands of geriatric care. It wasn't malice, never that — just… a desperate longing for a moment to breathe, to be *myself* again. After my divorce, when everyone chose sides, I had to rebuild everything, you know? At 50, alone. That kind of solitude... it changes your perception of dependency. And now, seeing her, I just… I wish I could tell her it’s okay to feel that flicker. It's not a character flaw. It's… attrition.