At the Turn of the Year: The Cost of Caring
Author: Felice Upton | Connect on LinkedIn
Published December 31, 2025
At the Turn of the Year: The Cost of Caring
As we close out 2025, I keep having the same conversation with the most incredible people.
It's with people who are deeply committed. People who care. People who show up, not because it's easy, but because the work matters.
And almost without exception, they are tired. Not weekend-tired. Soul-tired.
Here's what I've learned, and what I wish someone had told me earlier:
The more personal it feels, the more we care, the more likely we are to burn out. And the less likely we are to prioritize ourselves.
The people most worn down right now aren't the ones who don't care enough. They're the ones who care too much to stop.
I know this because I've been that person and it is not worth it, I promise. There is a better way.
When I was a teenager, I was unhoused. A street pastor helped me find my footing when I had none. That kindness changed my life. I had a rough adolescence and had taken a lot from my community and caused harm. To overcome shame and guilt I wanted to give back.
So, for years, I helped run the Friday Night Feed, where we fed our homeless neighbors every week. It mattered in a way that went bone deep because I had been on the other side of that line and it was hosted by the man who had saved me.
But somewhere along the way, I lost the plot.
I was spending money I didn't have. Giving everything while quietly running myself into the ground. I told myself it was the least I could do. That I owed it. That taking care of myself would be selfish when others had so much less.
Then someone asked me: Why aren't you putting yourself first?
That question stuck and I often find myself going back to it. That felt like something people who had it all figured out did...
Because so many of us, particularly those who have had to fight hardest, carry shame around prioritizing ourselves. We learned early that our needs came last. That survival meant giving. That rest was for people who had already earned it.
But here's what I know now: You cannot be you if you don't take care of you first.
There's a quiet trap that gets set for people who care deeply.
It sounds like encouragement. It looks like opportunity.
Just a little more. Now isn't the time to slow down. If not you, then who?
This is how burnout gets normalized. This is how exhaustion gets reframed as dedication. This is how people who pour themselves into their work start to believe that rest is a reward they haven't earned yet.
As the new year approaches, I see two options being offered:
Hustle harder. New year, new you.
Or: Disengage. Protect yourself. Care less.
Neither works.
This is the same false binary I've spent my career pushing back against, in justice systems, in organizational culture, in how we think about accountability and care. We swing between extremes and call it progress. But the pendulum isn't transformation. It's just exhausting motion.
There's another path.
One that asks: What is actually mine to carry? One that notices the difference between meaningful discomfort and chronic harm. One that recognizes caring for yourself isn't a distraction from the work. It's what makes the work possible. It means that everyone carries accountability not just you.
If you're tired right now, you're not failing. You're paying attention.
And if you're setting intentions this season, maybe the question isn't What more can I do? but What do I need to protect?
We don't need more hype this year. We need more honesty about what sustainable commitment actually looks like, especially for the people who feel everything deeply and carry more than their share.
The work needs you. But it needs you whole, happy and fulfilled. You are deeply deserving of the level of care and concern you offer others. As you show grace to others remember that you must show the same grace to yourself.
That's where I'm starting 2026
What about you? Let's do this together.
