The Cost of Care Isn’t Just Financial-It’s Emotional

They say if I want freedom, I should get a job. My own money. My own independence. But here is what they don’t talk about:

• How much it cost to put a child in daycare.

• How much of my own paycheck disappears just to be allowed to work.

• How rent, groceries, gas, and basic survival already drain every cent.

• how “getting ahead” is a myth unless you have generational backup.

  And here is the part they really avoid:

  I don’t trust anyone with my son. Not for hours a day. Not every week. Not when he gets sick so easily. Not when the world doesn’t treat children as sacred just inconveniences or future workers. They say “you’re lucky to be home.” and yes, I am. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. It doesn’t mean I’m not exhausted. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel trapped sometimes between being present and being self-sufficient. This isn’t laziness. It’s a rigged design. Caregiving is treated like a personal burden, not a shared investment. I’m not asking for pity. I’m asking for a different conversation. What if we stopped pretending that the system works, and started building something that actually holds the people doing the most invisible work? I want to help. I want to grow. I want to contribute. But i will not traade my son’s well-being just to prove I’m worth a paycheck. This post isn’t about answers. It about saying the one thing noone wants to admit out loud:

  Caretaking is labor. And if the system makes it feel like a prison, the system is the problem.