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  • “The Glitch in the Matrix: When the Parent Becomes the Dependent”

    August 19, 2025
    Uncategorized

    About seven years ago, I was home visiting my parents, and my dad fell. I rushed to him, gathered him into my arms, got us both up off the floor and just held him. He cried, saying he was sorry (he was so deflated). I cried, telling him not to worry, that I was right there – that I had him. It was heart crushing. I will never forget that day – and as I write this, my tears are falling.

    There’s no real warning when the world on its axis. One day, you’re the daughter. The son. The child. The next, you’re making medical decisions, managing prescriptions, reexplaining what day it is—and quietly grieving the role you used to have. They are too.

    This is the glitch in the matrix. This is the emotional vertigo that hits when your identity as “child of” crumbles under the weight of caregiving.

    And no one tells you how hard that will be.

    It’s Emotional Fragmentation.

    What you’re experiencing is a psychological rupture. An emotional rewiring. A silent mourning.

    The one who taught you how to tie your shoes is now asking how to use the TV remote. The one who walked you through life is now unsteady on their feet. And you are left holding the wheel of the relationship—navigating a route you never wanted to take. It is disorienting.

    Why This Hurts So Deeply

    Psychologists call this role reversal or parentification, and it creates more than just logistical stress. It fractures the internal sense of identity—who you’ve always been in relation to this person.

    “The child becomes the parent to their own parent, a shift that triggers grief, confusion, and even resentment—all wrapped in love.” — Dr. Krystine Batcho, Psychology Today

    This reversal often results in:

    • Emotional disorientation (for me, dizziness)
    • Loss of perceived safety and security (your foundation is rocked)
    • Heightened anxiety and loneliness
    • Complicated mourning—grieving someone who is still alive

    Research confirms that adult children caring for aging parents are more likely to experience complicated grief, emotional strain, and identity confusion—even when they’re glad to help.(Psychology Today – Parent-Child Role Reversal)

    You’re Not Alone in Upheaval

    Let’s be honest: this is heartbreaking. This is soul-twisting.
    And this is not something you can “positive attitude” your way through.

    You’re navigating something no one is ever prepared for. And there is no manual for watching your foundation slowly shift from stone to sand. You don’t need to pretend. You don’t need to smile through the unraveling. You need honesty. You need truth. You need community.

    Soul Salve for the Role Reversal

    You won’t rebuild the foundation overnight—but you can patch the cracks:

    • Name it out loud: “This is hard because I miss being their child.” This past February on one of 4 trips to the ER that month, I told the physician, I just need to be her daughter right now. I cannot be her caregiver in this moment. I was exhausted, upside down and beside myself. He understood, and the medical community stepped in to help me get through it (and they were amazing).
    • Create small moments of familiarity: Shared jokes, favorite music, family photos. Echoes of the original bond. Put them up, look at them, laugh with your loved one,. Talk about older memories – sometimes they are more intact.
    • Honor the emotions: Grief, anger, guilt, tenderness—all are valid, and none cancel each other out. Have your cry – in the cornfield, the pantry, hiding in the bathroom – wherever you can, but move the emotions through – don’t let them build up.
    • Tell someone. Caregiving is isolating enough without carrying all of this silently. I could not survive this journey without everyone of you who has ever listened, helped, or just hugged me over the past six years.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week

    Create an “Emotional Checkpoint List.”
    Once a week, ask yourself:

    • What emotion surprised me this week?
    • What do I miss?
    • What helped me feel grounded? (reach for more of that)
    • What am I not admitting?

    You don’t need to fix anything—you just need to acknowledge it.

    If You’re Feeling Adrift

    It’s not just you. Every caregiver of a parent has felt this disorientation. It’s not a glitch in your system—it’s a glitch in the roles. And you’re adapting. Slowly. Bravely (some heroes do not wear capes).

    No one gets through caring for a parent without a few emotional bruises.

    But we do get through it. Together.

    Source Credits:

    • Psychology Today: Parent-Child Role Reversal
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  • “No Manual, No Map, Just Guilt and Grace…and more Guilt”

    August 14, 2025
    Uncategorized

    I’ve talked with so many of you that are caring for a loved one – and especially for parents – and every one of us feels guilt.

    The guilt is everywhere.

    You feel it when you lose your temper.
    You feel it when you want a break. You feel it when you want to make plans for a weekend away – and can’t. You feel it when you leave the house for two hours and come home to 47 missed calls from your own brain asking: Did I leave the stove on? Did I lock the door? Did she fall? What if she does?

    You feel it when people comment:
    “You’re so lucky to spend so much time with your mom – she’s so lucky to have you.” And you bite your tongue to keep from saying, “Actually, it’s lonely and exhausting, I feel resentful sometimes – and I’m drowning.” Honestly, my mom is lovely, and it’s still too much.

    Where Does the Guilt Come From?

    For many caregivers, especially those caring for a parent, the guilt often stems from:

    • A role reversal that feels unnatural.
      You’re suddenly the decision-maker for the person who used to make all the decisions. That’s not easy.
    • Feeling responsible for their happiness and well-being.
      Even when it’s out of your hands. Even when it’s not fixable. Even when they seem unaccountable for their own actions.
    • The belief that you’re supposed to do this perfectly.
      Spoiler alert: You can’t. And, you won’t.
    • Comparison to siblings or outsiders who think they know better.
      They often show up late or not at all—but still manage to deliver advice wrapped in judgment. Until they live it, they don’t get it. Period. Don’t let them fool you. Most couldn’t survive two weeks being a full time caregiver.

    The Double Life of Guilt

    You’re constantly trying to make the right decisions for their care—but also carry the guilt for every nap you take, every door you shut for five minutes of silence, or every appointment you cancel for your own health.

    You may even feel guilt when you don’t feel guilt.
    That’s the loop. That’s the trap.

    But here’s the truth: guilt comes with caregiving, not because you’re doing something wrong, but because you’re doing so much right that it’s humanly impossible to do it all. And, to be brutally honest, we are dealing with people that are incapable of making good decisions for themselves. They are vulnerable, and they need us. But we can only do what we can do.

    Why Do We Feel It?

    We feel guilty because we care.
    We feel guilty because we can’t fix it.
    We feel guilty because we’ve been conditioned to think self-sacrifice means perfection.

    And when you’re a child taking care of your parent, that guilt takes on a whole new dimension. The role reversal is just so flipping tough. You’re still their kid—while being their medical advocate, their nurse, their cook, their everything. You’re constantly flipping back and forth and none of them feel right.

    You might feel like you’re failing at all of them. But you’re not. Don’t ignore it though, actively combat it.

    The Dangerous Weight of Guilt

    This isn’t just emotional fluff. According to the Family Caregiver Alliance, 40–70% of caregivers show clinically significant symptoms of depression, with 25–50% of those meeting the diagnostic criteria for major depression. It’s for real, and it’s not good.

    You’re not just “being dramatic.”
    This isn’t “just stress.”
    It’s a crisis. And it’s time we said it out loud.

    How Do We Deal With It?

    1. Say it out loud.
      Guilt thrives in silence. Speak it. Write it. Name it.
    2. Accept that caregiving is imperfect.
      You will mess up. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.
    3. Make peace with the “good enough.”
      You’re doing the best you can with the resources you have. And sometimes “okay” is more than enough.
    4. Reclaim boundaries.
      Guilt can’t live where truth and boundaries are welcome. Let yourself rest. Let yourself be angry. Let yourself be.
    5. Find someone who gets it.
      No one will ever shame you for this kind of honesty if they’ve been in your shoes. Other caregivers are your safest place.

    You Are Not Alone in This Fight

    You might feel alone. But you aren’t.
    Every caregiver I’ve ever met wrestles with guilt—every single one.

    We must start talking honestly and vulnerably. This is not a time for bumper-sticker encouragement. If someone throws “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” at you, smile politely and walk away. (Or hand them a bedpan and tell them to prove it.)

    Because here’s the deal:
    God didn’t design you to carry this alone.
    He gave you community. And in this space, among those who get it, we tell the truth.
    We are tired.
    We are overwhelmed.
    We are broken open and filled up again every single day.

    But we are also faithful. And funny. And fierce.
    And we are still standing.

    So today, write something down. Call a friend. Let someone in.
    Because this guilt? It’s not your truth. It’s just noise trying to distract you from how deeply you love.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week: The “Guilt Journal” (With a Twist)

    When guilt creeps in — and it will — write it down. Start a “Guilt Journal,” but not the kind that shames you. Instead, try this:

    • What triggered the guilt?
    • What would I tell a friend if they felt this? (this is GOLD – use it)
    • One truth I know about myself as a caregiver today:

    This isn’t about venting. It’s about reframing. It will move you from self-blame to self-compassion — because you deserve it.

    Don’t like journaling? Open your phone and hit record. Talk it out. Listen back to your own wisdom. You’ll be amazed how much grace you already carry. Tech or traditional – get it out. (And, as you’ve read in some of my prior blogs – a great therapist is a gold mine!) Think of it as a day at the spa for your brain.

    A Final Thought

    You’re not doing this wrong because you feel guilt. You’re doing this right because you care enough to even feel it. Read that again!

    You love deeply. You carry more than most. You have a right to feel everything you’re feeling without shame.

    So today, let the guilt go—even if only for an hour. Give yourself the grace you so freely give to the one you’re caring for.

    You’re doing enough.
    You’re loving enough.
    You are enough.

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  • “Why I’m Still Here and Not Hiding in the Pantry”

    August 5, 2025
    Uncategorized

    (actually I may or may not be writing this from the pantry…)

    It’s been over six years since a huge life change – one that I don’t regret and would do all over again in spite of how taxing it is. Taking care of a parent, and the role reversal that goes with it is hard – in fact, it is the hardest thing I’ve gone through and I’ve waded through some seriously deep stuff. Today, I’m a little at a loss for a topic, so I decided to just focus on the happy and grateful and call myself Pollyanna for the next 24 hours. Sometimes role playing works to keep things on track.

    As a caregiver, the tough stuff takes up a lot of space. It’s the truth. The to-do list. The worry. The guilt, the guilt about the guilt, and the guilt about not having guilt. The constant decisions. The constant conundrum is a thing.

    And yet… tucked in between those things are little bursts of joy, gratitude, and sometimes downright ridiculousness that make it all feel a little lighter.

    So today, I’m making a list — a happy list — of the moments that make me smile, laugh, or just feel grateful.

    Here’s mine (so far):

    1. That first-morning coffee together.
    Even if we don’t say a word, it’s still time shared. And sometimes, the coffee is actually hot.

    2. A perfectly timed one-liner.
    Like when I ask, “Can you cut me some slack?” and Mom replies, “Absolutely. I have a whole bunch of slack cut just for you.”

    3. The familiar songs.
    When the hymn starts and she hums along — even if it’s off-key — it’s beautiful. She had a light stroke years ago and cannot sing any longer so this is especially sweet. She used to have a beautiful singing voice.

    4. Finding the thing that makes her light up.
    It might be a cookie, a memory, or a funny story. Watching her face change is worth everything.

    5. The moments she’s still “Mom.”
    When she reminds me to take a sweater, tells me I’m working too hard, or pats my hand like she did when I was little.

    6. Laughing at the absurd.
    Like putting the TV remote in the fridge or hearing, “I didn’t do it” before I even ask the question.

    7. The rare nap where I also nap.
    Those are pure gold.

    8. Inside jokes.
    We’ve built a whole language that no one else understands. And that’s ours to keep.

    9. Good hair days.
    Hers, mine, or both. They’re rare enough to celebrate.

    10. Knowing that this time — as hard as it is — won’t last forever.
    And that makes each sweet, silly, and tender moment even more precious.

    Some days the list is long.
    Some days it’s just one thing.
    But there’s always something.

    If you’re a caregiver too, I challenge you to make your own happy list. Write it down. Keep it somewhere special for the moments when the weight feels heavy (and it does a LOT). Because sometimes, the smallest things really are the biggest things that keep you in the right head space to keep going.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week

    Start a “Happy Jar” Every time you catch a funny moment, a sweet exchange, or a win (no matter how small), jot it on a scrap of paper and drop it in the jar. On the tough days, pull one out and remember: there’s still joy here.

    See you next week, friends.

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  • “Lower the Bar (and Your Blood Pressure)”

    July 30, 2025
    Uncategorized

    Let me tell you something I wish someone had said to me a long time ago:
    You are not a machine (though you may feel a little robotic somedays.)
    You are not a Pinterest board (in all it’s perfection).
    You are not failing just because your hair hasn’t seen a brush today and your kitchen looks like a tornado had a tea party.

    Somewhere along the line, we bought into this idea that to be a “good” caregiver—and a good human—we have to do it all. Cook a full meal, keep the laundry folded, the bathrooms clean, our loved one bathed and happy, work handled, bills paid, and oh yes—look fabulous doing it. Every day.

    Spoiler alert: That’s not real.
    It’s not sustainable.
    And it’s not required.

    Adjusting Our Expectations (of Ourselves)

    When I first started this journey, I tried so hard to keep everything just like it used to be. The model house. Hair and make up perfect. Healthy meals. The organized office. On top of the world. All the time. It didn’t last long.

    The problem? That version of life doesn’t fit this one. So now? Perfect has become “good enough.” (It took a minute – ask my therapist). And “good enough” is a gift that you MUST give yourself!

    Some days I knock it out of the park—I make a great meal, cross off six tasks, and get Mom to laugh a little. Other days, I keep her safe, we eat cereal and chocolate bars, and I call that a win.
    Both days count.

    The truth is: no two days are the same. Some are smooth, and some are storms. And if you keep judging yourself by a standard that requires superhero strength and Martha Stewart energy, you’ll drown.

    Instead?

    Break life into bite-sized chunks.
    Let some things go.
    Give yourself permission to rest WITH OUT GUILT!
    And for heaven’s sake, stop apologizing for not being everything to everyone. It’s exhausting.

    Grace Over Guilt

    Younger, stronger, and more rested you might’ve been able to do it all (but psst – but that’s a lie too). It’s not about the length or the time, it’s about the mental and emotional strength it takes also. This version of you right now is holding it together with duct tape and prayer—and it’s still holding. You’re still showing up. And that is enough. TRULY!

    You are allowed to rest.
    You are allowed to say no.
    You are allowed to wear the same leggings two days in a row and still call yourself incredible. But will you? Probably not, but if you want to survive, you have to try.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week:

    Build in “nothing” time.
    I know. You’re busy – we all are. But ten minutes of quiet with a cup of coffee, your feet up, and no expectations is worth more than an hour of multitasking. Put it on your schedule. Call it “scheduled nothing.” Make it sacred.

    Final Thought:

    You are not failing. You’re not lazy—you’re maxed out.
    Let’s stop measuring success by perfection, and start measuring it by presence, effort, and love. It’s different metrics than we are used to.

    Lower the bar on yourself. You’re still standing, and that’s something to be proud of. It may not seem like much, but it’s a lot in caregiving journey!

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  • “Even the Best Caregivers Can’t Catch Every Fall”

    July 25, 2025
    Uncategorized

    That day was supposed to be simple. I needed to run a few errands — nothing major, just a quick trip to a neighboring town and back.

    While I was gone, I got the call no caregiver (or daughter) ever wants. It was MY daughter letting me know that my mother had fallen.
    I could barely make out her words and reassurances over the instant screaming in my own head:
    “You should have been there.”
    “You should have prevented this.”
    “You failed her.”

    The reality?
    My mom fell. She’s 93. It was heartbreaking.
    And whether I was home or not, the truth is — it still would have happened – because things happen. Period.

    As caregivers, we walk around carrying the illusion that if we just do everything right, we can protect them from every fall, every scare, every bad thing. It could be likened to the second motherhood.


    But the truth? We cannot control freewill. We cannot wrap them in bubble wrap and Charmin. We can’t control most things let alone everything. And trying to will only bury us in guilt, fear, and exhaustion.

    How to Handle It When Things Happen

    First, breathe. (straight from my daughter’s mouth)
    Then breathe again. (guess who knows her mom really well?)

    And remember this:
    You are human.
    You are doing the best you can.
    You can be prepared — but you cannot prevent things from happening.

    Here are some steps you can take to be prepared, not perfect:

    Safety Tools That Help

    • Life Alert or Medical Alert Devices:
      These systems allow your loved one to push a button and immediately call for help. Many now offer automatic fall detection without needing to press anything.
    • In-Home Cameras:
      Indoor security cameras (even just basic ones like Blink or Ring) let you peek in and check on them — without hovering or making them feel watched.
    • Easy-to-Reach Phones:
      Big button phones, wearable phones, or even simple Alexa or Google Home devices with “Call” functions can allow your loved one to ask for help easily.
    • Lift Services in Your Community:
      Many areas have non-emergency lift assist services.
      If your loved one falls and isn’t injured but can’t get up, these trained teams (sometimes through the fire department or private services) can safely help — no ambulance, no ER unless needed. In my town just call the sheriff office or non emergency number and they will come help.
    • Also be sure that there is a way to access the home. I had the house locked up tight. My daughter had the keys. Push button combo locks are a great way to ensure that help can get in without breaking down the door.
    • You’re going to need help. Period. Trying to lift someone yourself (even a “tiny” person) at dead weight can seriously injure both of you.

    Tips for When Guilt Creeps In

    • Acknowledge the fear and sadness. It’s okay to feel all of it.
    • Speak to yourself the way you’d speak to a friend. Would you blame a friend for needing groceries? No. You would tell them they did their best. Tell yourself the same.
    • Reframe the goal: It’s not about preventing everything. It’s about responding with love and calm when something happens.
    • Debrief gently: After the event, walk yourself through what you can do for next time — without blaming yourself for this time.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week

    Set up a “Help Me” Station in every major room.

    In each room your loved one uses often, have a small, reachable “Help Me” setup:

    • A Life Alert button nearby
    • A phone or voice assistant device (like Alexa Echo Dot) ready to call family
    • A simple list of “what to do if I fall” instructions posted somewhere visible (even just a note that says “Call for help. You are not alone.”)

    This way, even if you’re gone, they are never truly without a lifeline.
    And you can breathe a little easier knowing help is always close at hand.

    Remember….

    You are not failing.
    You are showing up.
    You are loving fiercely.

    Bad things will sometimes happen. But love — the kind you pour out every single day — will always be bigger than any fall.

    ️Next stop….coming right around the bend.

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  • “I Was Going to Try and Be Independent Today”

    July 15, 2025
    Uncategorized

    Honoring the quiet bravery behind their everyday efforts

    This morning, I was rushing around, slightly frazzled (what’s new) and trying to keep all the wheels turning. The coffee hadn’t hit yet, the to-do list was already mocking me from the counter, my phone was dinging away, and I was impatiently asking my mom why she didn’t just ask me for help.

    And then she said it. So soft. So matter-of-fact. “I was going to try and be independent today.”

    And there it is. I stopped cold. The air whooshed out of my lungs. Because that sentence? It landed like a ton of bricks wrapped in velvet.

    In my exhaustion, I forgot—she’s still trying. Behind the misfires is the woman who ran a successful business, raised a family, played the organ at church (and still does), and fiercely values her independence.

    She’s not just my mom. She’s a woman trying her hardest to keep her sense of self intact.

    While I’m navigating my overwhelm, she’s quietly mourning the things she can no longer do… and still reaching for them. And, she’s doing it with more grace than I will ever have.

    We’re Both Trying.

    It’s easy to get lost in the logistics of caregiving:
    The meds. The appointments. The repetitions. The never-ending decisions. The responsibility. But sometimes, what they really want — what they really need — is the chance to feel capable again. To say, “I was going to try…” That is courage. That is strength. That is a love story we don’t talk about enough.

    A Gentle Reminder

    We’re not just caregivers. We’re guardians of dignity.
    And sometimes, that means stepping back instead of stepping in.

    Let them try.
    Let them help.
    Let them feel proud of something small.
    Let them feel like themselves for just a moment more.

    Because independence, even in tiny doses, is a form of love too. And, we owe them that.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week

    Create a “Do-It-Yourself” Zone.
    Set up a small area with safe, manageable tasks your loved one can do solo — pairing socks, organizing note cards, folding hand towels, watering a plant. It lets them feel useful without setting them up for frustration.

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  • “When It Feels Like Too Much: The Caregiver’s Silent Crisis”

    July 8, 2025
    Uncategorized

    Let’s start with the truth:
    Caregiving can feel like drowning in plain sight.

    Whether you’re caring for someone with dementia, cancer, chronic illness, or a lifelong disability, the feelings are all too familiar—overwhelmed, exhausted, and maybe even resentful. If that’s not enough, then comes the guilt for feeling that way.

    But hear me when I say this:

    It’s normal.

    You’re not broken.
    You’re not weak.
    You’re not failing.

    You’re human. And you are giving more than anyone ever should be expected to give.

    Caregiving demands everything—your time, your body, your brain, your spirit. It is relentless. There is no “clock out” button. No real breaks. It’s like being in charge of a small, complicated company 24/7, with no staff, no budget, and no vacation policy. And in rural areas? Forget about services. If you’ve got a Meals on Wheels driver and a decent pharmacist, you’re already ahead.

    The Crisis No One Talks About (except Bradley Cooper)

    Caregiver mental health is a national crisis.

    According to the National Alliance for Caregiving:

    40–70% of family caregivers experience symptoms of depression.
    23% report that caregiving has made their own health worse.
    And the average caregiver spends more than 24 hours a week providing care—with many logging far more.

    And that’s just the stats. What the numbers can’t tell you is the quiet loneliness. The financial burden. The identity loss. The moments when you stand in the kitchen and whisper, “I can’t do this anymore,” and then take a deep breath and keep going anyway.

    There is no system that truly supports what we are doing. There are gaps so wide they swallow up the strongest among us. In small towns and rural spaces, support is even more limited, burnout is high, and caregivers are often running on sheer willpower.

    Now, About Those Bumper Sticker People…

    You don’t have to feel happy every minute of every day.
    Let’s just take that filter off, shall we?

    If God meant for us to be sunshine and daisies all the time, He wouldn’t have created sadness, anger, frustration, or anxiety. Those emotions exist for a reason. You’re allowed to feel them all.

    So when someone tries to cheer you up with a glitter-dusted “God gives His toughest battles to His strongest soldiers” or “You’ve got this!”—take a deep breath and remember:
    Forgive them. They are clearly not caregivers.
    They don’t get it. You will never meet a fellow caregiver who makes light of your feelings. We. Know. Better.

    So What Can You Do?

    We’re not going to pretend there’s a magic fix. But here are a few realistic ideas to help lighten the load:

    1. Narrow Your Focus

    Stop looking at the next five years. Or even five months.
    Shrink your lens. Focus on the next hour. The next breath. The next step. You are not required to carry the entire journey at once. And, you can’t. I’m in year six of this life, and the one thing that can drive me over the edge within two breaths is someone asking what my plans are after mom is gone. How can I think or even dream about that? There is no time frame to life and death. And losing a loved one is a whole other book.

    2. Give Yourself the Grace You Give Them

    Would you speak to your loved one the way you speak to yourself? Probably not. You’d be patient, kind, encouraging. You’d say, “Take a rest. You’re doing your best.” So say it to yourself, too.

    3. Call in Tiny Rescues

    A porch visit with a friend.
    A walk around the block alone.
    A YouTube video that makes you laugh.
    A frozen pizza for dinner instead of a full meal.
    These small moments count. They can rescue a whole day.

    4. Start Saying Yes

    Yes to help when it’s offered.
    Yes to a nap.
    Yes to an emotional release—whether it’s a good cry in the bathroom or a deep prayer in the car.
    You don’t have to do this like a machine. You’re not one.

    5. Find One Local Ally

    In rural areas, formal services might be sparse, but maybe there’s a church group. A neighbor. A retired nurse. A caregiver Facebook group. One person who understands. Let them in. You don’t need a village—you just need one warm heart.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week:

    Create a “Reset List.”
    It’s a handwritten or phone note with 3–5 things that help you reset when you’re on the edge.
    • Drink a cold glass of water
    • Text a friend who always makes you laugh
    • Step outside barefoot for 3 minutes
    • Write down ONE thing you did well today
    Keep it visible. On the fridge. On your mirror. Inside your car. And use it.

    You are not alone.
    This season can feel unending, but it won’t last forever.
    And in the meantime, you are doing holy work.
    It’s not easy. It’s not glamorous.
    But it is sacred.

    You are not failing.
    You are just tired.
    And you are still worthy of care, love, and rest.

    I love you all, and I see you.

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  • The Gift of a Good Laugh (and a Notebook Full of Joycie-isms)

    July 2, 2025
    Uncategorized

    Last night I was frustrated—tired, overwhelmed, and at my wit’s end. I looked at my mom and asked, “Mom, can you cut me a little slack?”

    She didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely, honey. I have a whole bunch of slack cut just for you.”

    I couldn’t help it—I laughed. I mean… who says that?!
    There is a lot that she doesn’t remember, but her wit? Still razor-sharp.

    That one-liner sliced straight through the tension and turned a hard moment into a beautiful one. It reminded me how powerful laughter is in this journey. It reminded me who my mom still is.

    She’s quick. She’s kind. She’s honest. Another thing she does when I’m walking the edge with a sassy comment – she taps her foot and reminds me, “You know I had brothers, and toes are fair game.”
    (Yes, I now instinctively tuck my toes away. Because she means it.)

    These hilarious, ridiculous, absolutely unforgettable moments? I’m writing them down. I’ve started a little notebook of Joycie-isms—those phrases and zingers that catch me off guard, make me laugh, or melt me in a second.

    Because as she slowly fades, this humor is gold.
    It masks the hard stuff.
    It lifts us when the fog settles.
    It brings us both back to center.

    Some of the things she says are funny. Some are heartbreakingly sweet. Like, “Honey, you know you’re precious to me because I love you so much.” And that right there? That’s better than anything I could ever ask for.

    So today, I’m encouraging you to find those moments. Write them down. Start a notebook. Record the funny, the frustrating-turned-funny, the tender, and the truth bombs. Because these little snippets are going to matter. They’re going to hold you when this season is over. They’re going to be part of the story you carry forward.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week:

    Create a “Memory & Moment” journal.
    If your loved one is still chatty or witty, jot down their quips, kindness, and conversations. If they’re in later stages, collect your own reflections. Stick in photos. Drawings. Descriptions of a touch, a scent, a smile. These become treasures.

    Even just a few lines a week will one day become your favorite heirloom. A time capsule of love, laughter, and the strength it took to show up every single day. You’ve got this!!

    This time of life? It’s not forever.
    But it can still be loved.
    So laugh until you cry—and cry when you need to.
    And let both be sacred.

    You’re not alone on this track.
    We’re all riding it together. See you next time!

    Choo Choo!

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  • Let Them Help: The Healing Power of Feeling Needed

    June 27, 2025
    Uncategorized

    I sprained my ankle the other day—badly enough to make walking painful (and illegal according to my doctor) and patience thinner than usual. As I was hobbling around, my sweet momma looked at me with the softest eyes and asked, “What can I do to help you?”

    I smiled and said the usual: “Oh, nothing, Mom. I’ve got it.”
    But she wasn’t having that.

    “I could rub your foot with Arnica,” she said gently.
    And in that moment, I let her in. I was hurting, and frankly, tired of always being strong. She melted my resolve.

    She sat beside me, her hands still soft and sure, and gently rubbed that foot like she’d done it a thousand times before—for scraped knees, twisted toes, and a tired daughter who always needed something. I swear she helped heal it with the calm and care only a mother can offer. Her touch is magic.

    Each day, she helped me wrap it. She brought me water. She asked if I needed anything. And one day she said, “I just love getting to help you.”

    That stopped me in my tracks.

    You see, we caregivers often take on every single thing. We do the lifting, the sorting, the cooking, the reminding, the everything. And in our whirlwind of doing, we forget: our loved ones still want to feel useful.

    They want to feel needed.
    They want to contribute.
    They want to help the people they love—just like they always have.

    Why Letting Them Help Matters

    When we allow our loved ones to participate in small, meaningful ways, we give them something powerful: a sense of purpose.

    Even as memory fades or physical ability changes, the desire to give doesn’t go away. Helping boosts their confidence, gives their brain something to focus on, and keeps the relationship reciprocal—not just caregiving, but care-sharing.

    It reminds them that they’re still capable.
    It affirms their dignity.
    It tells them loud and clear:
    You matter.
    You are not a burden.
    You are still my rock, my parent, my guide.

    Ways to Let Your Loved One Help

    Even if they can’t do what they once did, there’s almost always something they can do. Here are just a few ideas:

    • Folding laundry (even if you have to refold it later—it’s the doing that counts)
    • Wiping down surfaces with a soft cloth
    • Tearing lettuce or stirring soup
    • Watering plants or feeding a pet
    • Helping wrap your ankle when you’ve overdone it… again
    • Reading aloud a short devotional or offering a daily prayer
    • Helping you remember something—like a name, a story, or just what day it is
    • Bringing you a glass of water and feeling like a hero

    It doesn’t need to be perfect or productive.
    It just needs to be shared.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week

    Create a “Helper Basket.”
    Stock it with safe, simple items they can use anytime they want to help: a cloth for dusting, a crossword puzzle, some socks to match, or greeting cards to organize. Giving them a “job” reminds them they’re not just being cared for—they still have something to offer.

    Final Thought

    No one will ever love me the way my mother does.
    And in that quiet moment, as she gently rubbed my swollen and black and blue ankle and foot, and looked up at me with pride in her heart, I realized something…

    Sometimes we don’t need to do more.
    We just need to let them in.
    And maybe, just maybe, that helps both of us heal through this very tough journey.

    I’m not crying (yes, I am) you are! See you at the next stop!

    No comments on Let Them Help: The Healing Power of Feeling Needed

  • Etched in the Spirit: Her Faith Remains

    June 21, 2025
    Uncategorized

    It’s been a week of Mondays, and I missed posting on Tuesday, but I have something that is sitting on my heart to share and worth being late.

    To be real, mom has seemed more confused lately, and I can tell that her cognitive decline is worsening. She is ever so sweet – and always smiling, and not only do I adore that, but she reminds me that living her faith is the most important thing in her life. She is not just happy – but she has captured how to be joyful even in the tough times, and being 93 and trying to exist in this world is not on the list of easy…BUT…

    She may not remember what she had for breakfast, or what she did yesterday. She may struggle to find the right words or get lost in the timeline of a simple story.

    But ask her about church, and her eyes light up. Because she knows. She remembers. She FEELS. Every Sunday, she is wobbly and off balance, but off she goes with a smile, her beautiful eyes sparkling and excited to see everyone.

    She remembers her pastor, Tony Borton, and she loves Charles Stanley, Joyce Meyers, Billy Graham, and more. She remembers the old hymns—every verse, every chorus – and she loves them. She reads her Bible faithfully, and recognizes the faces of her church family like they’re stitched into the fabric of her soul – because they are.

    Church isn’t just a routine for her. It’s her sanctuary. It’s her safe place. It’s her reminder that she is held—by God, by community, and by something greater than what this disease can touch.

    We read devotions together almost every day. And every day, without fail, she prays for the children of the church—by name. Not because someone tells her to, but because her spirit still remembers the rhythm of intercession.

    Her body is slower now. Her mind, tangled in fog some days.
    But her faith? It’s sharp. Steady. Unshaken.
    It is her anchor in the storm of confusion.

    Let Them Hold What Comforts Them

    We spend so much time as caregivers focused on what’s been lost.
    But let’s not forget what remains.

    Your loved one might not remember the year or what day it is…
    But they may still hum a favorite hymn.
    They may still whisper prayers.
    They may still light up when they hear the familiar cadence of a Sunday morning sermon.

    Let them hold on to those things – whatever they are…
    Let them rest in what brings comfort.
    Because dementia can take the dates.
    It can muddle the memories.
    It can confuse the order of a day.

    But it cannot take what’s etched into the spirit.
    And for my mom, her faith is carved deep. Let them live there and rest.

    Caregiver Hack of the Week

    Make space for soul memory.
    Even when cognitive memory falters, spiritual and emotional memory often stays.

    Create a quiet space for your loved one to connect with what grounds them—daily prayer, a devotional, a favorite hymn, or even a recorded sermon. No theology degree needed—just love and repetition. Its one of the greatest acts of love we can show them.

    Thanks for letting me share this oh so personal topic with you. See you next week! Choo choo!

    No comments on Etched in the Spirit: Her Faith Remains
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The Silver Haired ChooChoo

A Caregiver’s Ride Through Chaos, Love, and WTF Moments

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