online therapy in Colorado for caregivers and siblings

There’s very little space left for you.

Smiling young woman with wavy blonde hair, wearing a white T-shirt and green jacket, standing against a red brick wall.

Why “Rosebud”

My middle name is Rose, and Rosebud is what my mother has called me ever since I was a little girl. She still does.

I kept the name because of what it meant coming from her. In a family where a lot of attention went where it was most needed, she was the one who noticed me anyway. Not because anything was wrong, but simply because I was hers. That kind of attention is what I want to offer here.

Growing up, my siblings needed a great deal, and somewhere in there I learned to need nothing at all. I know what that does to the parents, and I know what it does to the other kids. Both are why I do this work.

You don't have to earn your way into this room by having the worst problem.

Sound familiar?

Caring for someone with special health care needs asks nearly everything of you, and it tends to ask quietly, over years. Some of what follows might sound like your life.

You track the medications, the appointments, the outpatient therapies, the school meetings. You're good at it. You're also exhausted, and you can't remember the last time someone asked how you are really doing.

You love them. Some days you also feel resentful, guilty, or you're grieving something that hasn't technically happened yet. There's nowhere safe to say that out loud.

You're the sibling. You learned early not to need much, and you got good at it. Now you're carrying feelings about a childhood everyone else remembers as fine.

Cream-colored roses blooming on a bush with dark green leaves, against a background of partly cloudy sky.

Hi, I’m Madelyn Metsch, LCSW.

You don’t have to start at the beginning.

Before private practice, I spent six years as a medical social worker in a primary care clinic for children and adults with complex medical and developmental needs. I sat with families the day they got a life-altering diagnosis. Often my job was to help medical teams understand what a family was actually carrying—the exhaustion, the lack of resources, the grief nobody had asked about—so the care plan could account for a real life instead of an ideal one. I know what long-term caregiving does to a marriage, to the siblings, and to the person doing most of it.

So you don't have to catch me up. You don't have to explain what your week looks like, or apologize for being angry, or perform gratitude you don't feel. We can start with what's actually going on.

A smiling blonde woman with wavy hair posing outdoors against a red brick wall, wearing a white t-shirt and an olive green jacket.

How it Works

Starting is three steps.

1

Book a free 15-minute call.

Tell me what's going on and ask whatever you want about my practice. We'll figure out together whether it's a good fit.

2

Paperwork, then scheduling.

Sign consent forms and ensure billing logistics are sorted out. I keep this part as short as I can.

3

First session.

We'll spend time on your background, your family, and the medical picture. Then we'll start figuring out what you want from this together.

You don’t have to be sure.

You might not know yet what you'd even want from therapy. That's okay. Most people arrive here tired rather than certain, and figuring it out is part of what we'd be doing together.