The guilt — processing the feelings around placing a parent

This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical, legal, or financial advice. Please consult appropriate professionals for guidance specific to your situation.

You've made the decision. You've visited facilities, talked to doctors, looked at finances, and done all the logical work. And now your parent is settling into their new room, and you feel like you've failed them in the most fundamental way possible. This guilt that's washing over you right now, the voice that keeps saying you should have been able to manage this differently, that you've abandoned them, that you're a bad son or daughter. Let's name this directly: that's grief, and it's real, and it doesn't mean you made the wrong choice.

The guilt around placing a parent is one of the most complicated feelings you'll ever have to work through. It's mixed up with love and relief and shame all at once. It makes you second-guess decisions you rationally know were right. It wakes you up at three in the morning. It sits with you in a way that facts and logic can't touch.

I want to tell you something with certainty, the way I wish someone had told me: placing your parent in care is not a failure. It's actually one of the most loving things you can do, even though it doesn't feel like it right now.

The Guilt That Emerges

The abandonment piece comes first for most people. There's a voice that says: your parent cared for you. You should care for them. If you truly loved them, you would be there every day, hands on, doing everything. Placing them is choosing your own life over theirs. It's abandonment dressed up in practical language.

This guilt is so convincing because it contains a grain of something true. You do love your parent. You did want to be able to care for them at home. But the truth you're not telling yourself is that you can't care for them at home anymore, or that doing so would cost something you're not willing to pay. Maybe it would cost your marriage. Maybe it would mean you can't work. Maybe it would mean your own health falls apart. Maybe it means they'd actually get worse care from you, exhausted and overwhelmed, than they get from trained people whose job this is.

That's not abandonment. That's actually seeing clearly.

Then comes the relief, and that's its own special kind of guilt. You call the facility and confirm she arrived safely, and somewhere deep inside, you're relieved. You slept better last night than you have in months. You're not checking your phone every five minutes. And then you feel like a monster, because how could you possibly feel relief when your parent is in a facility? What kind of person is glad their parent isn't at home anymore?

The kind of person who was drowning, that's who. The kind of person who was losing themselves. And that relief is not betrayal. It's what happens when you set down something you were never meant to carry alone.

Then there's the shame. The worry that people are judging you. The fear that when you tell them you've placed your parent in a facility, they're mentally filing you away as someone who "put their parent away." The shame that says: you have the money to pay for care, you have a family, you should have been able to make this work at home. Why couldn't you? What's wrong with you?

What's wrong with you is probably that you're human, and you have limits. Those limits aren't failures. They're information about what you can actually sustain.

Permission to Feel What You Feel

Here's what I need you to hear: that guilt doesn't prove you made the wrong choice. Guilt right now would exist either way. If you'd kept your parent at home and something happened, you'd feel guilty about not getting them professional care. You feel guilty because you've made a choice that involves loss, and loss hurts, and guilt is part of how we process loss.

The guilt isn't evidence of wrongdoing. It's evidence that you love your parent and that you understand what's changed. That's not something to shame yourself about. That's something to grieve.

Your parent might not understand why they're there. They might be angry or confused. They might tell you they feel abandoned. That's hard to hear. You might need to hear it while also knowing that you did this because staying at home wasn't working anymore. You did this because you love them. Those things can both be true. The fact that they're struggling with the transition doesn't mean you made the wrong call. It means they're struggling with a loss, just like you are. And you can be compassionate about their struggle while still knowing that this decision was necessary.

There's a place where relief and love meet, and that's where you need to live right now. You can love your parent deeply and be relieved that they're in a place where they have twenty-four-hour supervision. You can miss seeing them every day and be grateful that you're not watching them struggle with tasks their body can no longer do. You can grieve what you thought their old age would look like and be clear-eyed about what it actually is.

One of the hardest things I had to learn: your parent's wellbeing is not your sole responsibility. You're part of their care now, not the entirety of it. That's not less love. That's actually more wisdom about how to love them well.

Moving Forward

The guilt won't disappear overnight. But it will change. Right now it's all-consuming because everything is new and raw. In a few weeks, as you see your parent settling in, as you notice they're gaining weight or they're engaged in activities, as you realize they're actually safer than they were at home, the guilt will start to quiet down. Not because you're stopping being a good person, but because reality is showing you what you chose to do: you chose a place where your parent can get the care they need.

When you visit, go without the voice that says you should be doing this at home. Go and see your parent as a person visiting someone they love, not as a judge reviewing your decisions. Bring something they like. Sit with them. Notice what they're engaging with. Some days will be harder than others.

If you find yourself wondering if you should bring them home, pause and remember why you made this choice. Write down what was happening that made you decide it was time. Look at your notes on hard days, because on hard days your memory will play tricks on you.

Your job now is different than it was before. You're not providing hands-on care. You're monitoring the care they're receiving, you're advocating for them, you're staying connected to them as a person, and you're taking care of yourself so you have energy for all of that. That's enough. That's actually what your parent needs right now.

Some of the best parents I know are the ones who made the hardest choices: the ones who could see their parent clearly, admit when things weren't working, and accept help. That's you now.

How To Help Your Elders provides educational content for family caregivers. This is not a substitute for professional medical, legal, or financial advice. Every family situation is different — what works for one may not work for another.