Vibes‑Only Caregiving: The Things That Make You Go Oooof
Vibes‑Only Caregiving: The Things That Make You Go Oooo
When “Oooof” Becomes the Caregiver Battle Cry
Oooof.
That’s a new staple phrase in this house of memory care and upside‑down, sideways short‑term memory loss.
It’s the sound we make for:
the things we try to avoid
the things we adjust to survive
the stuff time keeps circling back around
the repetitive nature of the Loop before a Reset
All of it is happening inside this tiny Bubble of reality she built. We visit for comfort care and vibes‑only caregiving.
I mean, we also say, “Shake it, Sassyass, we are late,” but this post is about Oooof. We’ll leave “shake it” for another day.
Vibes‑Only Caregiving: Read the Fucking Room Tempo
Vibes‑only is a great place to start, because when things go sideways, you have to inventory the vibes in the room.
Reading‑the‑room only here.
We live in:
actions and reactions
consequences that were foreshadowed but never caught before the fallout
reset‑and‑try‑again moments every single day, on repeat, hourly or less
repetitive OCD
obsessive adult‑onset ADHD
mimicking/shadowing behaviors that make you question your own sanity
Hot tip, spicy vibes: Before you fix the behavior, check the vibe.
Ask yourself:
Is this a safety issue?
Is this a comfort issue?
Is this just an annoyance?
Safety gets action. Comfort gets compassion. Annoyance gets a deep breath and maybe a snack.
OOOF. #fuckit #asyouwish
When There Is No Map (And You Keep Going Anyway)
I am not the hypocrite who says, “Here is your road map in memory care… this will absolutely work.”
Nope. Not here. Can’t put that shit back on me.
This is a chronicle of my past and present, and of her journey—with my eyes and ears—as I try to help her find a peace she’s only recently discovered in these declining years, in my care.
Do no harm.
Protect the quality of life.
Do what it takes for your journey.
Dignity.
Storytelling for spatial awareness in the duality of memory care for an independent, spicy‑ass 78‑year‑old who has had only me to lean on for the last 42 years:
through the rough days before Alzheimer’s
and nine years of decline after
I know what you need but don’t want, and I know what you want that I can never allow in this circus—with all the monkeys hovering, waiting for the right moment to fly in and create catastrophe.
The weight of decisions made is no longer a distant memory.
They are the fucking lifeline.
The past is now here, with all the feelings that were suppressed and “let go of,” but damn—the brain is misfiring, and now it’s all here in jumbled masses and tangles that feel wrong and not what she sees. Living the last 60 years as if they were yesterday… each misfired time lapse and feeling through her perception… NOT mine. I just get to find a way out, around, over, and under, without actually falling in the shit storm.
What you don’t know is the chaos and drama and Oooof in a brain of damage and atrophy.
I PROTECT ALL OF YOU FROM THE ICK AND OOOF because I tell a story that is:
sarcastically silly
funny
on point
blunt truth softened for the masses
If you personally know me, you know me.
If you met me or heard stories and believed them without asking me, then you know them—and we’re not going to defend their stories. We’re just going to balance out the perception.
I’m that chic.
The one who says:
“This didn’t work, but this is what we did to adjust and try again. And again.”
Down the longest‑day rabbit hole of Oooof.
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 it 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 needed, then move the fuck on.
Spectators, Boundaries, and the “You’re So Controlling” Chorus
You’ve probably read the chaos and the drama. And if you haven’t, there are plenty of posts where I say:
Others don’t get it and won’t get it.
Spectators unintentionally—or very intentionally—spike a moment with the randomness of:
“Things used to be this way, and I don’t like these boundaries or rules you arbitrarily put in place for controlling us and your household.”
YOU WOULD NEVER SAY THAT TO A NEW PARENT OR SOMEONE RAISING CHILDREN IN THEIR HOME. You would NEVER allow it in your own home.
Don’t pull that shit on me.
I’m a new parent to a 78‑year‑old who lived a whole life before mine started and took care of my snot‑nosed little ass for 16 years till I moved out… then ran two salons and worked with me every day for 31 1/2 years.
I didn’t deserve that, and I won’t take that shit today. I’m not your family; I’m your fucking verbal punching bag and her gatekeeper.
You would never say that to a parent with a young child.
But let an elderly loved one need the kind of assistance you would never lock yourself into doing, and suddenly:
I’m the villain #unhinged
We have boundaries #controlling
We need acceptance of new roles #crazy
And apparently I’m the devil #itsgiving
You can find those posts all over this blog. Nine years of caregiving chaos will do that.
Hot tip, spicy vibes: When spectators question your boundaries, answer to safety and stability, not their comfort.
Try:
“These are the guidelines that keep her calm and safe. You’re welcome to visit inside them.”
Full stop. No dissertation. Can’t defend. Can’t explain. Can’t ignore.
Tiny Team, Big Energy: Building Your Caregiving Inner Circle
This is not the “convince everyone” vibe.
This is the:
ca n’t-predict-what-you-are-gonna-experience-so-roll-with-it-and-come-out-on-the-other-side-better-for-it energy.
Good Vibes Only in our small team of help:
doctors who get it
paid help who actually show up
the two humans who always supply warm dinners
ice with a little water (as she prefers) in 24/7 care when she doesn’t remember hydration and food matter
We:
lock and unlock at the same times for consistency
ride the changing sleep schedule
navigate attention deficits
It used to be clockwork. Then someone off‑property walks in with “what used to be” energy and fucks it all up for a long minute.
We adjust. I yoga‑breathe and…
Now we live in what is:
today
and whatever the future decides to be
Hot tip, spicy vibes: Build your tiny crew and stop auditioning new cast members.
You don’t need a village. You need:
one doctor who listens
one or two ride‑or‑dies
one person who feeds you on the regular
That’s a winning lineup.
Spicy vibe: My way.. energy is now matched. I don’t owe anyone anything, including responses to arbitrary texts or updates. #fuckit #burnbadassburn
That’s actually me being copicetic… #yep #stillhappens
When the Phone Dings and Your Whole Body Says “Nope”
“She didn’t answer the phone to me, is all ok?”
“Yep” vibes.
Years ago, I would’ve sent a book‑worthy explanation text so everyone would get off my ass about:
blocking/unblocking accusations
villainizing what they can’t see
her secrecy and all the things in between
The rhythm used to be:
Defend. Explain. Attention given. Oooof.
Today?
can’t defend
can’t explain
don’t give two shits about attention beyond “read the text” and one‑word answers
Can’t because it’s exhaustion on steroids.
Won’t because it turns into verbal‑volleyball drama that makes the current‑affairs section of the news look boring.
Don’t because I’ve been there, tried that, and the reading of the room was so toxic it felt worse than a psych ward on lockdown with a lithium and Xanax shortage.
Hot tip, spicy vibes: One‑word answers are a boundary, not a character flaw.
You’re not cold; you’re conserving battery.
“Yes.” “No.” “She’s safe.”
These are complete sentences.
The Mimic, the Shadow, and the 5‑Star Illusion
“You don’t have to write a book, L… we get it.”
Do you, though?
Because the more I explained, the worse it got.
The less I explained, the more I was “wrong,” because her explanations were:
backwards
borrowed from the loudest voice in the room
stuck on repeat
That’s where this starts: the mimic.
The shadow.
In our journey, the brain's muscle memory is logic and reasoning. Work the problem and adjust. Her vibe. Her journey. #Brilliantmind #bossbitchvibes
I do it, she does it.
He says it, she repeats it.
It sticks until it leaves or finally feels off.
The eyes see a loving environment that’s like a 5‑star resort.
The words? They don’t always match.
“You need to tell L this is fucked up and she can’t control us or you.”
But she doesn’t feel controlled.
I feel exhausted.
So she blocks the angry texts.
Cool. Done.
Then:
“L, why is XYZ blocked?!!! They say you are keeping me from them. Make it stop.”
Cue screaming phone calls that end in:
“I’m hanging up, I’m done.”
Cue texts sent to keep records, then chopped up and used as weapons.
Group text only.
Silence.
I like the silence. Honestly, it’s peaceful.
Now, when a text comes in, I take a yoga breath before reading it.
If they text me, I’m either:
in trouble
or he died
He’s still alive. So I’m in trouble.
The text never asks, “Is she ok? Are you ok?”
It whispers, “Am I blocked?”
Hot tip, spicy vibes: When the phone dings, ask yourself:
Do I have the energy for this?
If not, it can wait.
Emergencies call twice. Spectators text paragraphs.
Saying It Out Loud: I’m the Caregiver, Not the Villain
Say it louder for the back and the spectators floating around this town:
L is not family, friend, or foe.
L is the caregiver.
One‑and‑only, 24/7 responsibility of another human.
L didn’t have kids:
five miscarriages
a few failed adoptions
no children to raise
So L became:
sole responsibility for one human
26 years older
no clear short‑term memory
living in a serious Alzheimer’s bubble
reset look
and Oooof.
The Others hold L responsible for the relationship's demise:
their relationship with L
their relationship with the one in care, who no longer thinks to call back or answer unless prompted
Hot tip, spicy vibes: You are not responsible for fixing anyone’s relationship with your person.
You’re the bridge if it’s safe—not the contractor rebuilding their entire emotional house.
As You Wish, But Make It Real Life
Caregiving here is very As You Wish energy:
Unpaid labor to do your best to:
keep spicy ass alive
keep her happy
keep her free of mental and physical injury
And somehow also to:
be the blame for everything not loved about memory care
be the necessary evil in their story
To friends, family, strangers, and spectators, L is the downfall.
They want:
conquer and destroy
…of the one doing what they themselves would never do.
“Are you done yet? Why won’t you just put her in a home?”
Because I promised her.
I don’t go back on promises.
I promised them I knew my role. It just took me 47 years to figure out what it was.
Not sister. Not daughter. Not friend. Not foe.
Caregiver.
Hot tip, spicy vibes: Let your promise be your North Star.
When the noise gets loud, ask:
Does this help me keep my promise, or does it drain me from it?
If it drains you, it’s a no.
Owning the Role They Gave You (And Choosing Your Own)
Oooof is the knowledge that no matter what, my Virgo‑perfectionist ass will never perfect anything except one pertinent thing:
I’m a great caregiver to this Spicy Sassy Ass N.
And I am brilliant at being:
the villain
the ghost
or the ghosted
…depending on who’s telling the story.
Final hot tip, spicy vibes:
If they’re going to cast you as the villain, at least be the one who keeps the main character:
fed
safe
and sometimes laughing
That’s a villain I can live with.
If This Oooof Hit Home
If any of this made you say your own quiet, tired “Oooof,” you’re not alone.
You can keep exploring:
Vibes‑Only Caregiving: The Small Wins That Save Us
Vibes‑Only Caregiving, Part Two: When Showing Up Is the Win
Vibes‑Only Caregiving, Part Three: When the Plan Eats Dirt (And We Don’t)
Spectator Survival Guide
And if you need scripts, boundaries, or just a place to feel less bananas:
Caregiver Script Kit
This Shit Is Bananas series
Vibes‑only, always. Oooof included.
