You’re Not Broken. The System Is.
Because Nobody Hands You a Manual for This Sh*t.
You were told to “just talk to the case manager.”
Or to “follow up with home health.”
Or to “sign here, here, and here.”
But no one gave you a manual for the panic. For the guilt.
For the grief that doesn’t always look like tears — it looks like mental checklists and pharmacy pickups and forgetting to eat.
No one gave you a roadmap for how to rearrange your life after your mom’s stroke.
Or how to navigate your dad’s discharge papers while trying not to fall apart in the parking lot.
Or what it would feel like to hold all the responsibility with none of the training.
And maybe you’ve Googled things like:
- “What happens after a hospital discharge?”
- “How to keep someone from falling out of bed”
- “What to do when my parent forgets who I am”
And every time, you’re met with clinical language, government websites, or a 37-page PDF with no real answers.
You’re not the one who failed.
The system never planned for people like you to succeed.
Welcome to the Club No One Asked to Join
Caregiving isn’t always a choice.
Sometimes it’s a slow drift — a few appointments here, a medication reminder there — until suddenly, you’re “the one.”
The contact.
The decision-maker.
The lifeline.
You go from “helping out” to *running the whole show.*
But without support.
Without training.
And without anyone really checking to see if “you’re okay.”
You don’t get hazard pay.
You get guilt-tripped by distant family members.
You get thanked by nurses on the good days — and blamed on the bad ones.
You get burnt out in silence.
And somehow, you're supposed to do it all with grace.
But here’s what nobody tells you:
You’re not broken. The system is.
The System Is Built for Throughput, Not Humanity
Hospitals are designed to move people out as fast as possible.
So they can slam another patient in that same exact bed.
Forcing nurses to be under staffed and over worked.
Just so they can make another dollar.
We’re all just another number to them.
Discharge planning is often a rush job.
Social workers are stretched thin.
And primary care can take weeks to catch up.
AND….
In between that chaos is you.
Trying to figure out what to do when your dad’s oxygen tanks show up with no instructions.
Or your mom’s meds get changed with no explanation.
Or you’re told to find “24-hour supervision” — with zero resources, no funding, and less than 72 hours to pull it off.
This isn’t your fault.
It’s a systems failure disguised as your personal responsibility.
And you are EXHAUSTED.
This Is Why Willow & Wells Exists
This isn’t just a blog.
It’s not just another resource website with a nice font and some vague encouragement.
Willow & Wells Is Your Clarity In The Chaos.
It’s for the people who are:
- Figuring it out on the fly
- Drowning in decision fatigue
- Running on coffee and medical paperwork
- Feeling isolated, invisible, and exhausted
We’re not here to sugarcoat anything.
We’re here to say, “Yeah, this sucks. But here’s what to do next.”
We’re building the manual they never gave you — with blogs, checklists, insights, and a whole lot of real talk. Zero BS.
And a Concierge Nursing service down the road.
In the meantime though
We’ll help you:
- Know what questions to ask during a discharge
- Understand what your rights are as a family advocate
- Recognize when you need respite care (and how to get it)
- Navigate conversations with providers who talk like machines
But more than that, we’ll remind you:
This isn’t just logistics. This is love.
And love doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself in the process.
The Truth Nobody Says Out Loud
You can love someone and still feel resentful.
You can do everything right and still feel like you’re failing.
You can be grateful to be there — and still want to scream into the void.
That doesn’t make you weak.
That makes you HUMAN.
At Willow & Wells, We Hold Space For That Duality.
For the dark-twisted humor.
For the rage.
For the quiet grief.
And for the kind of support that doesn’t sound like a hospital pamphlet.
What Comes Next
Right now, you might not need a product or a provider.
You might just need to feel seen.
To read something and exhale for the first time in days.
Start there.
Read our blog.
Sign up for our newsletter.
We’ll be here — building the manual one page at a time.
Click Below to Read!
Caregiving is hard. Doing it alone is harder.
We’re building something to change that — tools, support, and straight-up help for people who’ve had enough of going it solo.