When you’re 10 years old, your hands are not supposed to shake while measuring out adult medication. You shouldn’t know the exact dead weight of a human body because you have to haul your paralyzed uncle out of bed, or how to handle raw bodily care before learning long division.

I grew up caring for my Nana and my uncle. Nobody asked if I wanted the job. Love didn’t give me an out, and survival left no room to breathe. While kids at school argued over video games, I sat at my desk with my stomach tied in brutal knots, praying nobody died while I was stuck in class.

On October 8, 2026, I stood at the podium as the keynote speaker for the Colorado Alliance for Caregiving Youth (CACY) fundraising gala at The Cube Central Park in Denver. The theme was “Too Young to Be This Strong: How We Can Lighten the Load.”

Standing under those blinding lights, I didn’t feel like an honored guest. I felt the exact same crushing chest pain I carried as a kid. I didn’t want to deliver a polite, comfortable speech to make adults feel good. I wanted to rip the lid off the illusion of what it means to have your childhood stolen.

The Dirty Secret Nobody Wants to Say Out Loud

We love to romanticize children who step up for their families, sticking them on pedestals and calling them resilient. But youth caregiving isn’t a heartwarming story. It is brutal, dark, and soul-crushing.

According to Colorado Healthy Kids survey data championed by CACY, roughly 20.4% of middle schoolers and 12.5% of high schoolers across the state care for a sick, disabled, or elderly family member. In some districts, that number spikes to 31%. In almost every classroom, a kid is sitting quietly, carrying a secret that is actively breaking them, cooking meals, administering meds, managing physical mobility, and absorbing adult trauma before homeroom.

Here is the truth I was terrified to admit for years out of pure guilt: I was furious, and I resented every second of it.

I loved my Nana and uncle with every ounce of my being. But love didn’t stop me from staring out the window, choking back tears, wishing to be a normal kid for one day. It didn’t cure the bone-deep fatigue or the rage of carrying the weight of a grown man before knowing who I was.

You can love your family to death and still feel completely destroyed by what it takes to keep them afloat. You should never feel guilty for wanting your life back.

“I Don’t Want to Be Celebrated. I Need Help.”

The night recognized kids carrying impossible loads — like Dominic, a National Junior Honor Society student balancing grades while caring for his grandmother with 24/7 dementia, who finally got a rare night to feel seen.

Recognition matters, but after the event, CACY’s founder, Nadine Roberts Cornish, shared a story about a young caregiver named Belle that cut to my core. Belle balanced high school, drill team, earning her CNA license, and caring for her granddad full-time. When told they wanted to celebrate her, Belle didn’t smile. She dropped a truth bomb that should haunt every adult in power: “I don’t want to be celebrated. I need help.”

Hearing those words ripped me back to my own reality. Praising a child’s endurance is a cheap way for adults to pat themselves on the back while walking away. Applause doesn’t pay for home health aides. Calling a teenager “inspiring” doesn’t give back their sleep, sanity, or youth.

And believe me when I say I am sick and tired of that word. I have been forced to be “strong” my whole life for 16 long years, and staying resilient didn’t save me from burnout, night terrors, or a stolen childhood. While society pats us on the back, we are silently drowning in plain sight. We don’t need another compliment to swallow our tears to. Something has to change. Something real has to be done.

That is why CACY exists. They bridge the gap between schools, healthcare providers, and communities so young caregivers are identified, valued, and given real support — building a safety net so kids don’t navigate adult responsibilities alone.

Who Cares for the Caregiver?

I can’t rescue my 10-year-old self or erase the nights I cried in total silence. But I will be darned if I stay quiet and watch the next generation go through the same nightmare.

My goal on that stage wasn’t to collect polite applause. It was to force every adult in that room to face one question: Who is caring for the caregiver when the caregiver is still a child?

We need actual systems across schools, healthcare, and communities—real respite care, direct resources, and mental health support.

To every kid out there waking up before dawn to give injections, change medical sheets, or hold a household together: I see you. You have every right to be angry and exhausted. You deserve to be visible, valued, and protected, and you deserve a whole lot more than praise. You deserve someone to step up and finally take the weight off your shoulders.

Editor’s note: For more information and to support caregiving youth, visit CACY at cacycares.org