Don't Let Caregiving Wreck Your Career
Don't Let Caregiving Wreck Your Career
Talking with Jessica Guthrie, a 34-year-old nonprofit executive and the brains behind “When Career and Caregiving Collide."
Jessica Guthrie was 26 years old when she added “caregiver” to her resume. It was 2015 and her mother, Constance, had just been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. “I’m my mother’s only child,” she tells me. “There was no other option.”
For years, Jessica carried out her caregiving responsibilities from afar, traveling back and forth from Texas, where she worked for Teach for America, to Virginia, where her mother lives. “I’d go home for ten days, fly back to Dallas; go home for ten days, fly back to Dallas,” she says. “I was on a plane every two weeks. It was exhausting and expensive.”
In late 2018, with her manager’s blessing, Jessica permanently relocated to Virginia and started doing her job remotely. Now, she’s her chapter’s Vice President and Chief Program Officer—and she did it all while acting as a full-time, live-in caregiver to her mom. Impressive, right?
I came across Jessica’s story on Instagram (@careercaregivingcollide), where she’s amassed a following of millennial caregivers and established herself as a leading voice in the care space. She agreed to hop on a video call with me last month to discuss moving back home, the financial hardships of caregiving, and how to keep a career going against all odds. This is an edited and condensed version of our conversation.
How did you feel about moving back home?
That whole period of me getting ready to give up my apartment and putting all my stuff in storage was a very dark time. I was talking to one of my executive coaches and I was like, “I don’t have the ability to dream right now. I can’t see beyond this moment. All this stuff is happening to me. I’m losing Jessica.” There was a lot of emotional stuff to work through.
The day that I gave up my keys was the final symbol of, like, “Oh, I’m stepping into a new chapter.” And this poor apartment lady: I gave her my keys and I burst into tears. When I look back on that now, I’m like, “Okay, Jessica, dramatic much?”
How do you see it in hindsight?
I’m just like, “Oh gosh, that was a blessing in disguise.” I was working virtually before the pandemic happened. I figured out what it meant to be a productive team member before everyone else was like, “What’s this virtual world?” And I was home for some of the biggest moments of my mom’s transition.
Acceptance is a big hurdle for many caregivers. What helped you accept the situation you were in? Was it just time?
I always accepted the role of caregiver. There are some people who are like, “Oh my gosh, I’m not a caregiver.” No, I know I’m a caregiver. I’m my mother’s only child. There was no other option. She looked out for me, therefore it was my job to show up and look out for her.
I think the hard part for me was figuring out, “Who am I as an adult, as a social being, while being a caregiver? Who am I in the workplace while trying to be a good caregiver?” It took time to finally accept that I am someone who is balancing both things. And I can do both; I don’t have to put one or the other on the back burner. But it’s going to require some things from me, and I think at the beginning, I kept everything in.
It wasn’t until I started sharing my story, when I started letting people in, that I started to accept the reality.
What made you feel ready to share? Or what was holding you back in the first place?
I mean, I was 26 years old. Only child. Young Black person. Had never really seen friends my age caring for their parents. My only understanding of Alzheimer’s disease was, like, Grey’s Anatomy, and even then, Meredith was grown, right? I think what was holding me back—or maybe some of the early fears—was like, “This is big and I don’t know where to start. I have not seen it and I feel extremely alone. No one understands what I’m going through.” That’s the story I told myself. Because, hell, at 26 my friends were planning vacations. My friends were thinking about grad school. My friends were figuring out their next career steps. And I was like, “This was not what I had planned. This was not on my vision board.”
And then it all got too overwhelming. The ups and downs, the sleepless nights, the insomnia, and the exhaustion was getting to be too much, and I reached a point where I was like, “If I don’t share my story, people are not going to know.”
What was your workplace like? Were your managers supportive?
Oh, I lucked out. My manager was the one who suggested I spend more time at home instead of flying back and forth from Dallas every week. It’s my colleagues who were taking me to the airport and making sure I was eating. I would not be where I am today if it wasn’t for their support.
And yet even under those circumstances, it sounds like you didn’t want to reveal too much at first?
Yeah, well, in the early years I was [following] all the archetypes of professionalism, all of the beliefs about what it meant to be a good professional. I said, “Even though they know I’m a caregiver, I’m still going to burn the candle at both ends to make sure there’s no excuse for them to think I’m not pulling my weight.”
The thing underneath all of that was that I knew that I could not afford to take care of my mom if I didn’t have a job. Full stop.
You’ve shared on Instagram that you’ve spent tens of thousands of dollars out of your own pocket on caregiving. That’s a ton of money for anyone, let alone somebody in their twenties and thirties. What are the financial implications for you?
Honestly, people don’t talk about the amount of debt that you take on [as a caregiver]. When my mom first got sick, I was flying back and forth, I was buying clothes, I was buying food. And so young, 27-year-old me incurred a lot of credit card debt. I work in a nonprofit—ain’t nobody got a bunch of money just sitting around! So now I’m in the place of paying off the debts that I incurred in the early years.
And while I have a generous employer retirement-match system, I’m also not saving as much, investing as much, as my peers. So when you think about long-term impacts, Whoa. Because, hell, $40,000/year goes to caregiving off the top. If I wasn’t spending that, what could I be doing?
I also think people don’t realize the cycle of generational poverty, or generational low-income socioeconomic status. My mom was an entrepreneur. She owned her own business for 17 years and she became a paraprofessional in the school system. She made just enough to be just at the poverty line. And so it almost feels like this thing is still haunting me. And then the system doesn't even help you.
You’ve hired paid caregivers, which of course costs a lot. How did you decide to take that step?
I think I got a caregiver at the end of 2017 [before I moved home], because my mom was beginning to wander. She was beginning to bolt out the door. And, yes, I had a Ring camera, but I couldn’t catch her every five minutes. At that moment I was like, “Okay, I can afford four hours a day, three days a week.” So that’s what it started as—and I would plan my entire schedule around that. It wasn’t until last year that I had the finances to go into a full week, even though it’s still only four hours a day.
You’ve managed to rise the ranks of your nonprofit despite your challenging circumstances. What’s your advice to other young people juggling caregiving and a career?
I think the top thing is to make sure you understand what your benefits are—both the things that are said and the things that are unsaid.
The second thing is, you still have to perform. I would not have been promoted if I wasn’t doing my job well, and that means continuing to build relationships and show interest in being developed. Get crystal clear about the expectations of you so that there is no question about goals, outcomes, and your progress. And say the thing you want. Even before being a caregiver, the people who supported me knew that I was on a leadership track. That’s how I carried myself, that’s how I showed up in spaces.
The people around you are going to make tons of assumptions about what capacity you have or what capacity you don’t have, and if you haven’t said, “I still want to be developed in these ways for these opportunities,” they will look over you.
How has being a young caregiver impacted your family planning? Do you want to have kids? Do you make time to date? I know these are personal (and annoying) questions, but I think they’re of interest to other young caregivers, if you’re willing to answer.
Yeah, whew. I know some caregivers who make the time to date. That is not me. Because every little bit of extra energy I do have, I want to pour into me. That includes sleeping, going to the gym—you know, prioritizing my own well-being.
This experience has also put into perspective for me, “What does family really mean, and what does that look like?” My mom had me at 39, and I’m now navigating taking care of her with Alzheimer’s disease. I think my natural response is, “I need to have multiples, at least two kids.” Because putting all this pressure on one child is unfair and unsustainable.
You show a joyful side to caregiving on your Instagram, which I’ll admit I don’t always see in my own experience. How do you balance the good with the bad?
I’m never like, “What’s the joy in today?” But I will say this: I was a different caregiver when my mother was still mobile. As my mother is now completely bed-bound and we’re on hospice, things have slowed down. And so in this slower period, I have a different outlook towards the moments. I think it’s because I realize how fragile life is and how tomorrow is not promised. And so I am very cognizant of using every moment to say, “I love you, mom.” Or using every moment—whether it’s washing her hair or doing her nails or changing her—to be fully intentional with her. And it’s in those moments when you see the laughs, the smiles.
But that does not mean I don’t have the dark, angry, frustrating moments, and I think I had a lot of those on the first half of this journey: “There’s nothing good about this. This is hard.” In fact, I spent more days being sad, frustrated, and angry than I did joyful.
I wonder if that’s because, in the early and middle stages, you have no idea what your timeline is. It could be five years, it could be fifteen. There’s so much uncertainty, which is like a fire to the brain.
Yes, one-hundred percent. Also, everything’s changing. As soon as you get one thing down, something else changes. So you’re always in this fight mode; versus now, it’s like, “This could be [over] any day.”
Do you know what you’ll do next? Will you stay in Virginia?
My mom bought this house for me and she would tell me all her dreams about fixing it up. She would always say, “One day when I get money, I’m going to make me a nice patio outside.” So even after she leaves, I do see myself staying here to fulfill the things she always wanted for her home. And I see myself giving my full attention and time to this caregiving community. I think there are so many gaps in dementia education and support that I can help fill, given my own experience, and that’s where I want to put my energy. And then we’ll go from there.
Jessica is very impressive and inspiring. She had to take on so much, so young. Great interview, Patti! (As always.)