Read the origin story of Dazey’s Diary, a brutally honest Alzheimer’s caregiver memoir about burnout, memory care, family dysfunction, and finding a lifeline online.

This Shit Is Bananas is my unfiltered field report from inside 24/7 Alzheimer’s care—no pastel platitudes, no “she seemed fine when I saw her” denial. From the first shock of the Alzheimer’s bubble to the gaslighting, blowback, burnout, and the way “strong” caregivers disappear in plain sight, this series names what’s really happening behind closed doors—and what spectators are doing (or not doing) that makes it worse. If you’ve ever wondered what it actually costs to hold someone’s whole reality together while everyone else watches the highlight reel, start here.

An unfiltered Alzheimer’s caregiver diary about guilt, boundaries, and guarding a loved one’s peace—not running a concierge desk.

This Shit Is Bananas is my unfiltered field report from inside 24/7 Alzheimer’s care—no pastel platitudes, no “she seemed fine when I saw her” denial. From the first shock of the Alzheimer’s bubble to the gaslighting, blowback, burnout, and the way “strong” caregivers disappear in plain sight, this series names what’s really happening behind closed doors—and what spectators are doing (or not doing) that makes it worse. If you’ve ever wondered what it actually costs to hold someone’s whole reality together while everyone else watches the highlight reel, start here.

This Shit Is Bananas is my unfiltered field report from inside 24/7 Alzheimer’s care—no pastel platitudes, no “she seemed fine when I saw her” denial. From the first shock of the Alzheimer’s bubble to the gaslighting, blowback, burnout, and the way “strong” caregivers disappear in plain sight, this series names what’s really happening behind closed doors—and what spectators are doing (or not doing) that makes it worse. If you’ve ever wondered what it actually costs to hold someone’s whole reality together while everyone else watches the highlight reel, start here.

Dear Diary,

If someone is reading you, it’s not because they wandered out of a spa day thinking, “You know what I need? A light little caregiving memoir.”

They’re here because life is already on fire.

I’m writing this from the middle of it: in the Cottage Bubble out back, stale cold coffee on my desk, my phone buzzing with fresh chaos I’m pretending not to see for five more minutes.

Current status:

• running on anxiety, I did not order

• parenting the parent while everyone else has opinions from a safe distance

• holding receipts—texts, voicemails, videos, medical notes—like armor

• wondering when exactly I became the Unhinged Villain for following the doctor’s orders and enforcing boundaries

This is the stuff caregivers whisper in hallways, bury their heads into steering wheels about, and type into search bars at 2:13 a.m. when the house is quiet, but their nervous system isn’t.

Today’s reality:

Messy. Loud. Too much..

To them, I’m the unhinged villain with the bent crown.
To us, I’m just the one who stayed.

At-home memory care is messy, exhausting, and a little bananas—so the small wins aren’t cute extras, they’re how we survive. In this “vibes-only” caregiving post, I’m sharing the coffee runs, Coke bubbles, car rides, and tiny moments of clarity that keep her feeling human and me from breaking.

At-home memory care is messy, exhausting, and a little bananas—so the small wins aren’t cute extras, they’re how we survive. In this “vibes-only” caregiving post, I’m sharing the coffee runs, Coke bubbles, car rides, and tiny moments of clarity that keep her feeling human and me from breaking.

From late‑night hallucinations to daytime gaslighting, caregiving for dementia is messy, relentless, and nothing like what the spectators think they see. Here’s what really happens when you’re the one holding the weight—and everyone else insists you’re the villain.

1. “In the world of memory loss, the person who remembers less is often treated as more trustworthy.”

2. “Welcome to the upside‑down reality where Alzheimer’s quietly turns the most honest caregivers into the ‘liars’ and ‘villains’ in everyone else’s story.”

3. “At some point you realize you’d rather eat drywall than re‑explain the same crisis to someone who still thinks ‘She seems fine.’”

4. “You’re not ‘being dramatic’; you’re building receipts in a world that keeps losing the plot.”

5. “We may be cast as the villains in other people’s stories, but in the real one—the one that happens at 1 a.m. in the dark—we’re the ones keeping the whole thing from falling apart.”

6. What would ya do without us??? #iykykyk

   L is mean to me. L is unhinged. L must be reined in. The spectators say, loud and proud, to anyone who believes them or just wants something to gossip about in private or in small groups, while smiling in person.

   You— L, the one who hasn’t slept through the night in months. You, L—the one quietly Googling, “Alzheimer’s caregiving, how to give everyone inside and outside the cottage what they want?” at 2 a.m.

   You, L, are the problem to others~ who don’t see, don’t know, and stay “head buried in the sand,” blissfully ignorant and without responsibility. It’s easy to blame what they don’t know.

   If you’re trying to explain this to people who only see the highlight reel, this post pairs well with: