Vibes‑Only Caregiving: The “Shake It, Sassy Ass” Checklist for Exhausted Dementia Caregivers
Hot tip, spicy vibes: Treat every “failure” as data, not a verdict on you.
You aren’t the failure; you’re studying and learning, using critical thinking and real progress for better, more manageable days. #bossbitch #workthemath
If something blows up, you just learned one more thing that doesn’t work for your person in this season. Gold star for information gathered. Apply it where it’s needed and move on to the next one.
When Caregiving Feels Like a Rigged Game
If you’re caring for someone with dementia, you already know:
This isn’t a sweet little Hallmark movie.
It’s a long, weird game with rules that keep changing.
You:
Build a routine.
Think, Yes, finally, something that works.
Then—boom. The thing that worked yesterday becomes:
A meltdown
A shutdown
Or a full‑on, “I don’t know who you are, but get out of my house.”
What this loop does to you:
Makes you feel like you’re doing everything wrong, all the time
Drains you physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually
Leaves you deep‑in‑your‑bones tired
When you’re that tired, every plan that flops can feel like proof that you’re failing.
Reframe to grab onto:
Caregiving isn’t a pass/fail test.
Caregiving is an experiment.
Every day, you’re running tiny experiments:
Will this help her feel safe?
Will that help me keep my sanity?
What actually works with this brain, this body, in this season?
Some experiments flop spectacularly. That’s where “Shake It, Sassy Ass” comes in.
The “Shake It, Sassy Ass” Checklist
“Shake It, Sassy Ass” is my personal command when the day goes sideways, and my brain starts building a Shame Palace.
What it DOES NOT mean:
Pretend everything is fine
Ignore your feelings
Hustle harder until you break
What it DOES mean:
☐ Notice when you’re spiraling into self‑blame
☐ Interrupt the story that says, “I’m failing”
☐ Move your body, your energy, or your attention just enough to keep going
How it can look in real life:
☐ Turn on a song
☐ Wiggle your hips in the kitchen
☐ Roll your shoulders
☐ Shake out your hands
☐ Let some of that stress energy leave your body
Or smaller:
☐ Shake off a perfectionist thought
Sample reframes:
“That didn’t work.” → Shake it, Sassy Ass. New data, not a character flaw.
“She didn’t like that meal.” → Shake it, Sassy Ass. Okay, cool—we learned something.
“That conversation crashed and burned.” → Shake it, Sassy Ass. Noted. We adjust.
Goal of this practice:
Not to be a relentlessly positive ray of sunshine
But to stay in motion without letting every setback become a referendum on your worth
Failure as Data, Not a Diagnosis
You try a new:
Routine
Script
Activity
And then:
She refuses
He lashes out
They shut down
Your nervous system screams:
I messed up.
I should’ve known better.
I’m not cut out for this.
Reality check:
Dementia keeps moving the goalposts.
What worked last month might be a hard no this week.
That isn’t you failing; that’s the disease changing.
Swap this:
“I’m terrible at this.”
For this:
“That didn’t work for this person, in this brain, in this season. Good to know.”
What you just collected:
☐ Information about what doesn’t soothe them
☐ Clues about what might be triggering
☐ Data about time of day, environment, or approach that’s too much
Is it frustrating as hell?
Yes.
Is it information you can use?
Also yes.
You aren’t the failure; you’re:
The scientist in the lab
Covered in emotional glitter and coffee stains
Making notes, trying again
Gold star for information gathered.
When You’re Bone‑Tired and Out of Ideas
When you’re exhausted, you’re not thinking:
“What a rich data set.”
You’re thinking:
“I can’t do this for one more minute.”
Here’s the “End‑of‑My‑Rope” Checklist I use with “Shake It, Sassy Ass.”
1. Shake the Story
Notice the story running in your head:
☐ “If I were a better daughter/partner/parent, this wouldn’t be so hard.”
☐ “Everyone else seems to handle this better.”
☐ “If I can’t fix this, I’m failing them.”
Interrupt it with:
☐ This is hard because it’s hard, not because I’m inadequate.
That’s you shaking the story, not your worth.
2. Shake the Schedule
If the plan keeps blowing up, the plan might be the problem—not you.
Ask yourself:
☐ Can this task happen at a different time of day?
☐ Can it be shorter, simpler, or broken into steps?
☐ Can I drop this expectation altogether, at least for now?
When something repeatedly doesn’t work, that’s data screaming:
Try a different way.
3. Shake the Standard
Check who’s running your invisible caregiver scorecard:
☐ Instagram
☐ Your very vocal aunt
☐ Some imaginary committee of spectators who don’t actually show up
Reality reset:
Lowering the bar is not giving up.
It’s adapting to the world you’re actually living in.
Sometimes the win of the day is:
☐ She’s safe.
☐ You didn’t scream.
☐ Everyone is fed something, even if it’s cereal for dinner.
That counts. That’s caregiving.
4. Shake Your Body (Just a Little)
Trauma, stress, and chronic caregiving pressure live in your body.
You don’t need a full workout. Try:
☐ Ten seconds of shaking out your hands
☐ A shoulder roll while you wait for the kettle
☐ A hip wiggle while you walk down the hall
Tiny movement tells your body:
We’re still here. We’re still moving. We’re not trapped in this moment forever.
Spectators vs. Caregivers: Two Different Worlds
If you’re surrounded by spectators—people with opinions, commentary, and zero actual skin in the game—you’re probably carrying extra weight that doesn’t belong to you.
Spectators sound like:
“Have you tried…?” (followed by something you’ve tried twelve times)
“If it were me, I would…” (it’s not them)
“You’re just overreacting.”
Caregivers sound like:
“What time did it fall apart today?”
“How did you sleep?”
“What’s one thing that actually helped?”
When a plan fails, spectators may treat it like proof you’re doing it wrong.
Caregivers—the ones in the trenches—know:
Plans fail all the time.
That’s not negligence; that’s the nature of dementia.
Spectator Boundary Script:
☐ “It didn’t work. That’s data. Unless you’re here at 3 a.m. helping me try again, your vote doesn’t count.”
Gold star for boundaries held.
How to Actually Use This Tomorrow
Here’s your “Failure‑as‑Data” Mini‑Plan for real, messy caregiving life.
Step 1: Pick one situation that keeps going sideways.
☐ Bath time
☐ Meds
☐ Meals
☐ Leaving the house
Step 2: After it happens, jot down three quick notes:
☐ What time was it?
☐ What was the vibe? (rushed, calm, noisy, crowded, tired)
☐ What exactly blew up?
Step 3: Label it as data, not a disaster.
☐ “Okay, note to self: 7 p.m. showers are a no. She’s too tired.”
Step 4: Adjust one small thing next time.
☐ Different time of day
☐ Fewer steps
☐ Different person leading the task
☐ Different script or fewer words
Step 5: When it still doesn’t go perfectly (because it won’t), shake it off on purpose.
☐ One deep breath with a shoulder roll
☐ A whispered, “Shake it, Sassy Ass, we’re learning”
☐ Mentally award yourself that gold star for information gathered
You are not failing; you are iterating.
You’re Not the Experiment
Here’s the line I want you to tattoo on your heart:
You are not the experiment. The strategies are.
You are not on trial. Your worth is not up for review. Your love is not measured by how perfectly every plan executes.
You are a human, doing an inhuman amount of emotional labor in a system that rarely supports you the way it should.
So when the next plan blows up, when the routine that worked yesterday crashes today, when someone on the sidelines mutters, “I don’t know why you didn’t just…,” I want you to hear this in my voice:
Shake it, Sassy Ass. That was data. Not a verdict.
Gold star for information gathered.
Gold star for showing up again tomorrow.
Gold star for being here at all.
And if no one has told you today: you’re doing the work of ten people. I see you.
If you want more caregiver scripts, spicy reframes, and “you’re not crazy, this is that hard” reminders, stick around. We’re building a world where caregivers don’t have to shatter to be taken seriously.
Print This & Put It Where the Hard Days Live
This isn’t just a cute blog post—it’s a survival tool.
Download or print this checklist and tape it where you actually melt down: the bathroom mirror, the fridge, the steering wheel, next to the meds.
So the next time a plan eats dirt and your brain screams, “I’m failing,” you’ve got a louder, spicier voice in front of you saying:
Shake it, Sassy Ass. That was data, not a verdict. Try again when you’re ready.
👉 Download/print the checklist and keep it where Future You will need the reminder most.
