Comfort Bubble?

It’s New Year’s Eve and I haven’t really slept in a couple of days. My head is whirling like a tornado trapped inside a box. My life is comfortable, but it doesn’t make me happy anymore.

I used to love my job, but after four years of being passed over for promotions I find it hard to do the work to the level I know I can anymore. I used to jump out of bed and now it’s a chore just to get going and get there.

I used to be thankful, grateful even, that I had my exes family in my daughters life even if I didn’t have the “father figure”. However, I’m tired of the littles being muted, uninvited, or left out because no one wants to upset him, his new wife, or new life.

I used to love my house, but now it’s just unpractical. Half the house  is on the second story that my grandfather can’t reach and the walk-in shower downstairs is so small he can’t really use it.

I was so excited to pay off my car this year, but it’s not very practical now either. With my grandfather and I in the front, three kids in back, and wheel chair in the hatch we have zero room for anything else.

First world problems, right?  Part of me is so grateful for all the good things: my little family, health, home, food, a car, a job. I should feel blessed and content. I know this. Deep down I know this.

So why does all the above weigh on me so heavily I can’t sleep?

I know I need to make changes; I can feel that nagging sensation deep down in my stomach. I think things could be better than they are now for my family. It’s just…what if they’re not? What if I disrupt this world I created and things are “less than now”? Or am I just stuck in the dreaded comfort bubble that keeps so many of us from true happiness?  The hard part about now is every decision I make changes not just my life, but the four lives that I care most about. Four. The ripple effects I can cause with uprooting and changing five lives. Unfathomable.

So here’s to a new year with 365 days of opportunities and choices. Here’s to hoping the ripple effects we cause are the right ones and to growing stronger from the injustices done to us so we can become the light for those that need us.

“You can take the sourest lemon life has to offer and still make something resembling lemonade.”

Happy 2019 — may it be a worthy year.

“Caregiver” Redefined

I’ve thought of myself as a caregiver for years now.  I give lots of care to three beautiful, smart little girls. However, I realize now that parenting and caregiving are separate realms.  All the love and devotion I invest in my children I get back threefold. That’s just standard for a normal parent.  Your kids will always (at least at their young ages) run to see you with open arms yelling “mommy” with big, wide smiles and eyes glimmering like they’re lit from the inside…and all feels right with the world.

Caregiving for a loved one (especially one whom has dementia/regressing mental function) isn’t like that.

My grandfather has always been my patriarch and idol.  I don’t know how many evenings I sat listening and soaking up his advice and wisdom in my youth.  His words hovering in the back of my mind over so many decisions in my life. He was always there during difficult times assuredly telling me to “suck it up”, make a plan, and move forward. He’s always been a rock I could lean on reminding me that “life is good” (a normal end to most conversations) and to focus on the blessings.

On bad days now he doesn’t recognize me, but knows he should know me. On the worst days he doesn’t remember my father, hence my existence is wiped away as well.  On bad days he wakes up throughout the night confused, on the worst days he “wakes up” but is still in his dream-state and is riddled with anxiety/fear with no knowledge of reality.  His bathing and toiletry are no picnic for me, but I know that I must go into it laughing and smiling or my alpha male’s morose and apologetic attitude due to his need for assistance can quickly turn to a depressed state. His frailty may worry me, but it makes him disconsolate.  He feels as if is body is his foe not allowing him to do even the little daily tasks so many of us take for granted.

My two year old believes they are best friends, as if they share some unseen connection, and is always at his side. At a doctors office recently my grandfather says “J, be quiet already”, she just looks at him and says “No Papa” and starts laughing uncontrollably and she crawls up on his lap. Then he starts laughing uncontrollably, then I am, and the nurse joins in too. These good moments are unforgettable.

On his best days he’s still giving orders, asking questions, and making demands like the Plant Manager he was most of his life. We have coffee every morning and dinner together every night and chat about family, news, weather, finances, and everything in between.  Our conversations aren’t as deep or as filled with wisdom like those we had when we were both younger, but his good days still outnumber his bad days and I relish the time we have together after so many years living hours apart.

Starting this journey I didn’t know the heartache I’d experience when someone you love doesn’t recognize you, the pain it would cause me to feel his self-consciousness at needing help, or the frustration and many obstacles of dementia.  I didn’t realize the full-context of a caregiver nor the simple lessons I’d learn.

I’m happier (although more exhausted) than I have ever been.

My grandfather is teaching my little family to take things in stride, how to more fully appreciate simple things, and how to just live in the present. My life had been so much about the plan, the budget, things to get done, my career, etc. (all still important), but it’s just as paramount to focus on the day and not lose the moment.  Balance.

Thank you Grandpa. Life is good.

gpa and j



Update – Added to Our Household

Becoming a caregiver.

I’ve been out of touch for a while. My apologies. I’ve added a chapter to my story and I believe it’s an important one to share more frequently so you’ll be hearing more from our tribe.

My father was the full-time caregiver for my grandfather (his father).  After he passed and much deliberation, my grandfather decided he wanted me to take care of his affairs.  This was a huge task because my hands are quite full with my own nuclear family.  However, in the end it was what he was most comfortable with and made the most sense because his affairs were so closely entwined with my fathers and I was trying to close out his estate/businesses (still haven’t completed this almost two years later).  It’s amazing the work left behind from death.

Fast forward a year (and hopefully that explains my absence as well) and my grandfather was showing severe signs of dementia.  This summer, after many family and close family friends had multiple discussions, it was decided my grandfather would move to Texas and reside with me. My once 6’2″ alpha male grandfather was a mere 150 lbs and completely fragile when he arrived.

The last four months my three girls and I have been adjusting to life as caregivers.  When I initially made up my mind to do this I thought it would be like adding a child to the household. We’ve done that before…nothing out of the ordinary for us. Oh, how wrong I was!  However, it reminded me of something I say to expectant mothers, “you’ll never have a job so hard, but so rewarding”.  Becoming a Caregiver for a loved one is the same.


The ONE thing I’m sure of in this adventure is that it was the right decision (despite the multitude of days I’ve collapsed with exhaustion on the bed thinking this is impossible).

Happy Thanksgiving to all! May you focus on all the ways you’re blessed and forget all the reasons you should be stressed.