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Primary caregivers get most of the attention, but the secondary support role (the “Molly Pitcher”) is just as critical—and carries its own unique risk of burnout. To effectively support a caregiver without letting the whole system collapse: speak hard truths, remain emotionally steady rather than mirroring their stress, carry only what fits your strengths, and help protect their identity outside of caregiving.

We spend a lot of time honoring the people on the front lines. They’re the visible heroes in every story. We describe them as extraordinary for their courage, their self-sacrifice, and their dedication to the cause.

Look at the stories of the American Revolution, for example. Ask any American who comes to mind. Obvious names like Washington and Revere (and more recently Hamilton) will come up frequently.

But very few will mention Molly Pitcher.

Molly Pitcher supported the army with unglamorous, hard work. Bringing water to the front lines to cool the cannons or help the soldiers. Caring for the wounded. Sometimes, even stepping in for a fallen artilleryman to keep the guns firing.

Over the last half decade, I’ve been playing the role of Molly Pitcher to my partner, who has been on the front lines of caregiving for her family members. First, her mom. Now, her sister.

And, statistically speaking, we are pretty much a cultural cliche. Women fill the majority of front-line caregiving roles, while men support from the rear whether they’re the spouse earning income or the brother who helps when asked.

Being the Unsung Support Person is Harder than it Looks

Most of the time my blog posts about caregiving focus on the primary caregiver. This is generally true of everything in the caregiving space—we’re focused on the front-line person, the one in the trenches, the one doing battle.

That’s because it’s hard.

But there’s a whole category of people the caregiving-industrial complex tends to ignore: The support person (or people) immediately behind the front lines. The Molly Pitchers. The ones who bring water. Patch up the wounds. Cook and clean and carry. Step in to keep the guns firing when necessary.

There is no training for this work, and it often feels precarious because you are holding two competing goals simultaneously in everything you do. You have to

• respect and acknowledge your person’s self-sacrifice while keeping them from breaking down.
• listen and sympathize with your person’s complaints about others while also making sure they don’t destroy the relationships they rely on.
• provide a safe and stable place for your person while also helping them achieve more than they think they can possibly accomplish.
• help your person find ways to accept the help of others while not sounding like you think they can’t handle it all.
• protect your own boundaries while not leaving your person feeling abandoned or alone in the work.

Four Ways to Provide Proactive Support

Courage in battle is episodic. Courage in support is continuous.

If you’re in a support role and you mirror the energy of the ups and downs of the hero’s situation, the whole ecosystem will start to act like an unbalanced washing machine. It will start to grumble, then wobble, and eventually it will get so out of alignment it will rattle itself to pieces.

This is how otherwise loving families fall apart through caregiving situations.

As the support person—as the Molly Pitcher in this scenario—your job is to provide that continuous, reliable, stabilizing security that will allow the hero on the front line to go above and beyond when called to battle, and to rest and recover when possible.

Here are four ways to do this:

1. Speak truth.

When you’re standing back from the battle line, you can see the whole picture in a way the soldier in the thick of it can’t. This means you have both an opportunity to think strategically and an obligation to shine a light on hard truths.

This is probably the hardest responsibility of a support person because it can take tact, delicacy, and pristine timing to share a difficult truth. A truth like your person may be falling into the Fairness Trap, or a truth like they are causing conflict by being unnecessarily confrontational, or a truth like it’s time for the person they’re caring for to move into a care facility.

This is especially hard when you have a vested interest in your relationship with the person you’re supporting. Spouse, sibling, best friend… this complicates the consequences of your decisions on whether, how, and when to speak truth.

2. Be steady.

In an inherently unstable and volatile environment, you need to be the stabilizing element in the room. It may feel like the best thing to do is mirror your hero’s energy, but in reality what they need is for you to flatten out the highs and lows.

When you mirror someone else’s energy in a volatile system, you’re actually amplifying what the feel. They’re angry with their deadbeat brother? Being angry with them will amplify the volatility. They’re sad about a medical setback? Being sad with them will amplify the volatility.

Courage in battle is episodic. Courage in support is continuous. 

Every time you amplify what the hero is feeling, it makes it harder for them to return to center. What they need instead is acknowledgment of what they’re feeling, then a gentle nudge in the direction of stability. Meet them where they’re at, but don’t participate in their emotional state. Be with them there, but don’t mirror or amplify it.

Then, when they’ve burned off the initial energy of that feeling, you can help them see things from another angle, if that feels like what’s needed. 

The key is to be untriggerable. Be the stable platform they know they can count on to regain their balance. This doesn’t mean be detached and stoic, or unemotional and distant. Simply be the stable platform they can trust will always be there for them.

3. Carry the right things.

The job of the support person is not to step in and do the hero’s job with them. Molly Pitcher does not put on a uniform and take arms beside her soldier husband. Then there would be two soldiers and zero support. Both roles are critical.

As a support person, you’ll be carrying a lot of things for the hero. You’ll be doing a lot of work behind the scenes, whether that’s more childcare, more housework, providing income, being a listener, or any number of other important things. It’s unglamorous. It often goes entirely unrecognized.

That does not mean, however, that you need to carry everything the hero cannot. If you try to carry everything the hero cannot, you expose yourself to potential overwhelm and burnout. If you fail, who will be there to support the hero?

The support person can better help by understanding what they will be good at carrying and what they might need help with. Know your own strengths. Where you have a gap, find other help to fill it. Just as the patient needs the hero and the hero needs you, you need your own support.

4. Protect their identity.

Dramatic times change people. Someone taking on their first primary caregiving role will not be the same person on the other side of it.

A lot of people lose themselves during these times. They suppress their own identity and take on the role of hero so completely that when it’s all over, they don’t know how to return to who they were and don’t know who they are now without the role. They say things like “I used to be funny” or “I used to enjoy going to parties.”

As the support person, part of your job is to ensure the hero retains their sense of self. This might look like creating opportunities for them to do things they enjoy. Or it might be just reminding them of who they are outside of caregiving. That could be something like, “I love how you bring your creativity to this work. You’re such a creative person at heart.”

Don’t Demand Compliance with the Support You Provide

Through this all, remember that as the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink. Don’t try to force your hero to be someone you imagine or want them to be. Don’t try to force them to do things the way you think they should be done.

Go ahead and point them to the water, but don’t try to force them to drink it.

It might not show on the surface or right away, but they will appreciate knowing the water exists, and that you care enough to show it to them… and that you trust them enough to let them decide whether to drink or not.

It’s Complicated. Get Help.

Sometimes my clients say something like, “Talking with you is worth every penny if only because it gives my partner a break from me dumping everything on them.”

I know what they mean because I’ve been both the dumper and the dumpee in my life. When work was toxic and and my kid was suicidally depressed, I relied on a confidante to absorb a lot of my emotional runoff. And as a support person to my partner, I receive a lot of the emotional runoff from every setback, stressful situation, disappointment, and tragic event she experiences.

There’s incredible value in having a neutral, experienced professional in your corner, whether you’re the hero on the front line, or the support person keeping the hero afloat.

If you want help getting through these complicated, stressful times with the least regret and the most confidence, set up some time to talk with me. I’ve been there. I can help you, like I’ve helped so many others.

Support Someone Right Now

Who in your life who is playing Molly Pitcher to someone else? Share this article with them. Everyone could use a neutral, grounded, wise mentor to help them through things, so also send them my way for a chat. Sometimes that one call can make all the difference.

Other Things to Do

Download a free chapter from one of my books. Or, book some time to talk with me yourself.