Dazey’s Diary Origin Story.
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.
Not Everything Is As It Seems: Caregiving Behind Closed Doors
Advice from nine years of experience: Make decisions and stick to your boundaries. When the outside world interferes with your primary goals of safety and well-being, be decisive and direct—honest and blunt. Find the solutions that best support the journey you are on, and remain firm in your singular goal: peace and kindness for the one in need.
If I Don’t Remember, It Never Happened: Real Talk From an Alzheimer’s Caregiver
Alzheimer’s isn’t just lost keys and sweet forgetfulness—it’s loops, F‑bombs, tooth conspiracies, and a Bubble where feelings last even when memories don’t. From being called a narcissist to negotiating with imaginary dental work, I’m sharing the unfiltered, sweary truth of what it’s really like inside our Alzheimer’s Bubble. If you’re a caregiver riding your own Loop, this is your permission slip to stop aiming for perfect and start aiming for humane.
Vibes‑Only Caregiving in the Real World
Vibes‑Only Caregiving in the Real World
When you’re the one holding it all together, “good vibes only” stops being cute. It becomes survival.
This is what it actually looks like when the caregiver never gets a break. No nights off. No sick days. No “Hey, go nap, I’ve got this.” No backup, no real options, and no one else on the same page—by choice.
But somehow, the ones who opted out still have opinions from the cheap seats.
They collect praise, second‑guess decisions, and chase control—especially around money, access, or “what’s best for them”—while the actual 24/7 caregiver is running meds, meals, moods, meltdown‑prevention, and everyone else’s denial.
And then gets villainized for having boundaries.
Every professional recommends structure and routine. The second those routines inconvenience bystanders, you become “the reason” there’s no help, no visits, no outings.
This isn’t “a rough season.” This is unpaid shift work with no clock‑out, no PTO, no vacation, no benefits, and no retirement plan.
The Invisible Job No One Wants to See
At‑home dementia care isn’t:
pills in a plastic box
a healthy snack
a few check‑in calls
It’s a full‑body, full‑brain, 24/7 emotional and logistical marathon.
What people don’t see:
The Meds – On time, every time.
Water with Ice – All day and evening, because she no longer remembers to drink.
Personal Hygiene – Hands‑on help, because the memory of what to do is short‑lived.
Personal Assistant – Keeping a spicy, independent human connected and social, even when you don’t have a social life anymore.
The Rituals – The mug, the blanket, the show, the exact phrase that calms them. One wrong detail can mean agitation or tears.
The Emotional Performance – The endless “good vibes only” act: smiling when you’re scared, sounding calm when your chest is tight, swallowing your panic so theirs doesn’t explode.
You’re not just keeping them safe.
This Shit Is Bananas, Caregiver + Spectator Checklist
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.
If I’m the Problem, Why Don’t You Visit When I’m Gone?
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.
Surviving Public Outings in 24/7 Alzheimer’s Care: An Honest Caregiver Guide
The outside world won’t play by the schedules and routines that are designed for her best interest — the ones you think she didn’t plan out. Trust me: all brilliant, spicy minds plan, even when they don’t share. They plot, they manipulate, they hide and seek, they run survival‑of‑the‑fittest vibes for their own safety and well‑being long before the POA and caregivers take over.
Caregivers play catch‑up. We mediate between what was, what is, and what will be — without instruction and without guidance, while a hands‑off crowd of entitled asshats, who were transactional at best in their relationships with her, sit on the sidelines. The “loved one” is often more knowledgeable, more strategic, and more self‑protective than the rest of them combined.
Don’t think that just because Alzheimer’s and short‑term memory loss are here, they are lost. In our story, the “Did I take my meds?” vibes do not erase the 1957–2018 realities.
Alzheimer’s outings aren’t “quick errands” — they’re live drills under fluorescent lights with an audience that wants a Hallmark ending.
What…
No Makeup, No Respite, No Mercy: When Memory Loss and a Quick Store Run Collide
You don’t avoid conflict.
You manage impact.
#sayitlouder
When systems and people cast you as the villain, you keep choosing the high road—not because you’re a saint, but because you’re protecting the only person who actually matters.
Girl Power, Bad Breakups, and Memory Loss: The Music Therapy no one recommends (But Should)
Here’s what we’ve learned about music in memory care:
You don’t actually know what they’ll like.
Age, decade, and diagnosis do not decide the playlist.What hurt before might help later.
The same kind of music that once brought up old pain might, years later, help that pain find a place to go.“Calm” music isn’t always calming.
Sometimes the quiet, gentle songs bring up the worst memories. Sometimes the loud, messy, “I’m still mad about it” songs help them feel understood.
So here’s the practical part:
Feeling Like a “Toxic” Caregiver? Why Memory Care Systems Push You Past Your Limits
If you care for someone with dementia, you’ve probably found yourself, without choosing, in what I call the Inhuman Olympics.
Here’s the basic setup:
You’re supposed to be endlessly patient.
You’re supposed to be endlessly kind.
You’re supposed to be endlessly available.
You are a human with a nervous system held together right now by coffee, adrenaline, and the three hours of sleep you got in 47 fragments.
And if or when you snap, sigh too loudly, shut down, or think, I can’t do this another minute, the system has a trick: it tells you that you are the problem.
Spoiler: you’re not.
Caring Better: Moving Beyond Toxic Behaviors in Memory Care
No one can self‑care their way out of chronic understaffing, under‑funding, impossible expectations, or family chaos.
Well, except for my tiny team of professionals and supporters—and me. So maybe “no one” is an exaggeration. If I can tread water, you can too. But let’s not pretend that bubble baths fix systemic neglect.
When the system is built to keep the outside world comfortable—but not the caregiver or the person being cared for—and obsesses over “behavior management,” it practically guarantees that even the kindest people will have moments that look toxic.
If you’ve been telling yourself you just need to “be stronger” or “be better,” loosen your grip on that story. This isn’t a character flaw. It’s an inhuman load.
This post is not here to:
Shame you
Belittle me
Replay your worst moments
Pretend that “good” caregivers never get it wrong
It’s here to name what causes harm so we can care better—for the person living with memory loss, and for the people who keep showing up.
I’m not a saint. I’m a real human who has used “verbal warfare” as a sport when pushed far enough. My goal is not to polish myself into some Instagram‑friendly caregiver. My goal is to keep you from having to go through the avoidable parts of what we went through—for the good of the one, not to keep outsiders comfortable.
Because let’s be honest: the core dysfunction didn’t start with dementia. The past is now playing on repeat in the present tense inside the brilliant, fiercely independent minds of today’s memory care patients.
You’re Not the Only One Who’s Snapped
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