• When someone you love is in pain—whether they’re sick, addicted, or falling apart—you show up. Again and again and again. You make the calls. You hold the line. You carry what you can. But what happens when love, loyalty, and devotion blur into something harder to name? When care turns into codependency, and compassion starts to erase your sense of self?

    Kate sits down with best-selling author Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love, Big Magic) to talk about the toll and the tenderness of caregiving. Liz’s new memoir, All the Way to the River, chronicles her years caring for someone she loved deeply through addiction and illness—and what it meant to finally let go.

  • Dr. Atul Gawande has spent his life at the intersection of healing and human limitation. In this conversation—recorded live at the Aspen Ideas Festival—Kate and Atul wrestle with some beautifully uncomfortable questions: What do we do when there’s no fix? What makes a life still feel like yours? From terminal diagnoses to parakeets in nursing homes to the quiet revolutions of primary care, this episode is a deeply human exploration of what it means to be cared for.


  • Some people become the ones others depend on. They organize the plans, remember the details, carry the weight. They know how to fix things—quietly, efficiently, lovingly. That kind of strength can shape a whole life. Until it begins to hollow something out. Amanda Doyle has spent much of her life being that person. In this conversation, she joins Kate to talk about what happens when helping becomes a way to stay in control, when strength hides tenderness, and when receiving love might be the bravest thing we do. She shares her experience of parenting a neurodivergent child, walking through a breast cancer diagnosis, and learning to see herself as worthy of the care she so freely gives to others.

    This episode is about the ache of being the strong one—and the grace of letting that go, just a little.

  • terminal diagnosis

    Death was never part of the plan. Words like hospice can land like a thud—heavy with finality, with the ache of limits we didn’t want to reach. The slow unraveling of these beautiful, fragile lives we love is always worth mourning.

    Maybe you’ve known, deep down, that fighting harder isn’t the next right step. Maybe the move toward hospice caught you completely off guard. Whether death comes like a thief or a long-expected visitor, facing it is always both awful and sacred.

    You are loved in all your particularity. Your people light up at the sound of your voice—your voice—with its quirks and humor, your eye-rolls and your weird snack preferences. You are not generic. You are irreplaceable. And your death, just like your life, matters.

    If you find yourself in that strange, liminal space—between what was and what is ending—you are not alone. If you are a caregiver, heart cracked open while you watch someone you love slip away, you don’t have to do this by yourself.

    We’ve curated a small support guide filled with resources and language to steady you for the road ahead. A little light for the next step. A little permission to be exactly where you are.

  • You are Loved

    When everything felt like it was falling apart, my sister Maria said, “You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are here. You will not disappear.” I held onto those words like a lifeline—and if you need that reminder too, you can download this lock screen and carry it with you, like a little blessing in your pocket

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