Lost Art of Mystery

Being a caregiver for a loved one with dementia is no cakewalk. For me the unpredictability is the most challenging aspect. You never know what to expect from one day to the next, or even from one hour to the next. Your brain has to do mental gymnastics to keep up with circular conversations, time lapses and repetition. Today I just feel done, but I can’t be done because it’s not over yet. I want it to be over, but then again, I don’t because for it to be ‘over’ means something far more traumatic.

Being a caregiver for a loved one with dementia can make you feel like a selfish asshole. For me, I miss my independence and my old life. It’s a massive shift from living on your own and having personal freedom, to having a person depend on you for all of their waking and sleeping needs from food to diapers. Living on 24/7 high alert. It’s a big ask, to think for someone else, to navigate their moods and temper your responses so as not to cause more stress for them in their fragility.

Being a caregiver for a loved one with dementia can feel a lot like being under house arrest. Especially when you are literally trapped inside and you can’t even make a phone call unless it’s scheduled. Privacy is not an option.

I just needed to vent. Being a caregiver is not my calling. We do this because it is what you do for family. Duty. I call it duty. There is no other option. Please don’t call me a saint or tell me there is a reward for this. Yes, it’s absolutely a sacrifice, but I’m no martyr.

Thank you for listening to my rant. Perhaps this will help someone else out there going through the dementia caregiver journey.