I’m on my second round.  Cared for my Mom off and on, over six years, until dementia took her.  She died in my home.  I did this because I loved her.  Because she ran out of money.  While making this sacrifice, the rest of my extended family enjoyed their lives, went on vacations, had “me” time.  Time for manis and pedis and so many other hobbies and pastimes.  In short, they enjoyed the good life.

My little girl witnessed all of this and it had a profound effect on her.  Watching Grandma decline and die probably delayed her development in a number of ways, but also made her into the beautiful, empathetic young woman she is today.  It probably sparked an interest in becoming a doctor someday, as now she is on a journey to do just that.

Now, all these years later, as I take care of a husband with dementia, suffer with him screaming at me before I’ve taken my first sip of coffee like this morning, all while a so-called “helpful” relative suggests that maybe my child and I have a co-dependent relationship or…..under the guise of “being concerned,” asks personal questions about my husband’s treatment, questions how I’m caring for him.  When I ask to be treated by her differently, I get no response which pretty much tells me everything I need to know about that relationship.

The truth is, it’s easy to run from overtly toxic relationships. What’s truly hard is running from the “sometimes kind to you and sometimes covertly abusive” ones.  Those are the ones that eat away at your soul, make you question who you are.  Why?  Because people in our lives reflect us.  They give us feedback as to who we are.  Are we consistently nurtured and appreciated by those who claim to love us, or do they shoot off little soul crushing darts when we least expect it?

I’ve learned, now in my 60+ years, that people let you know who they are.  But, sometimes, it might take you decades to really see them.  When do you see them?  When you start to show up for yourself.  I started this blog, in part to deal with the stress of caring for Mom.  My lifelong love of make-up was my happy place.  As a little girl, I’d dress up in her clothes, put on her heels, curl my hair and apply her lipstick and pranced around in front of my Mother’s mirror.  In so many ways, we are always the little boys and girls we once were, using the engrained familiar coping mechanisms of childhood.

This blog has helped me so much.  Even if no one ever reads it.  Sometimes, I am swimming in my obsessions of Make-up, Beauty products, Self-Care that remind me I am more than a caretaker, that I have a life beyond my current situation.  And sometimes, I am just dealing with it.  Sometimes, I’m just in the quicksand and avalanche that has become my life.  This blog, my Make-up, my little sojourns into self care….well, less face it, they keep me sane.

What’s hard about dementia care is that the complexities of the brain make no two care plans or caretaker journeys alike.  And the individual caretaker stressors, coping mechanisms and resources…well, they vary infinitely beyond measure.  Taking care of someone with dementia is an unavoidable lonely experience.  Those who’ve been through it may empathize with you.  But no one can walk your path and truly live in your shoes.

In the fragility of your life, you discover it is so important to see, really see, what others reflect back to you, because frankly, it can be damaging.  Presently, I chose to see.  I chose to stop and, while I may go from being cussed out and emotionally taxed beyond my abilities, I will take ten minutes and put on my own Omnilux (aka Oxygen) Mask.  I will take a little break from my reality and water the seeds of hope I still have in me, that one day I will be at peace again.

Peace is not merely the absence of conflict.  Peace is allowing your soul to be free, unfettered by those who, may because of any number of personal troubles and unresolved traumas, place you in their gun site.  They find you a ready victim to exorcise some of their personal demons.  The sad thing is, they too often have little insight they are even doing it.  You can forgive them, but woe to the person who forgets, who doesn’t have an exit strategy while sitting around the proverbial family dinner table.  There needs to be a course in exit strategies, a path to finding our “super powers,” making us the super hero of our own lives.

Today is a beautiful day in Southern California.  I may not be at my best, but I plan to show up for myself today.  I plan to spend time with my beautiful dogs, get some sun, pick up a prescription (for me, yes actually for me!) at the pharmacy.  Go sit in a cafe, somewhere, undisturbed by time and circumstance.  Check off some of the things that are on MY OWN DAMN TO DO LIST.

Oh, yeah, and I will put on a lovely face of make-up, curl my hair and feel good about me, knowing that this time, these stressors are not my destiny.  I know that the answer lies somewhere in the process of learning how to take care of me, regardless of who can’t handle it.  I’m culling the ranks people, alongside my Make-Up collection and personal possessions.  Yes, my minimalist journey DOES include people.  I’m going to Marie Kondo their asses!

My future?  It is going to be beautifully curated.  It will be consistently stable and surrounded by truly trustworthy kind souls.  Guess what?  The mirrors they hold up for me fairly reflect back a perfectly imperfect Sassy Girl.  She is loved unconditionally.  She feels safe.  She can be vulnerable.

So…here’s my Personal Ad:  “Overworked Reluctant Dementia Caretaker currently accepting applications for “Ride or Die” friends.  Assholes need not apply.

Until next time Besties.  Love yourself.

Peace out with Mucho Amor,

Senora Sassy Pants