A quick note from our Founder, Torri L. Fisher.

 

It was late one evening when the weight of caregiving hit me harder than usual. I sat quietly, sipping my tea, trying to soothe the familiar knot in my chest. Another day of navigating the unpredictable world of Alzheimer’s had left me feeling defeated. It was the small things, really. Like how my mother would constantly remove the bed pads, leaving me frustrated and exhausted. Why couldn’t she just leave them alone? Didn’t she understand I was trying to help her?

But tonight, something shifted.

It dawned on me that the problem wasn’t her—it was my approach. I had been trying to force order in a situation where control was no longer an option. My mother wasn’t removing the bed pads to frustrate me. In her world, she is making choices that make sense to her, holding onto the last fragments of her autonomy. Who was I to take that from her? And, quite honestly, how dare I?

pencil-sketch-mom-and-daughter-itreatmyselfSuddenly, the solution felt simple. Instead of getting upset, I will place the pads *under* the sheets. This way, she won’t see them, and her dignity will remain intact. I’ll just plan to change the sheets more often—twice a week, if needed and get backups for the backups. It wasn’t the most convenient solution, but it felt right. I realized that making her comfortable, even in small ways, was far more important than my need for things to go “right.”

As I sat with this newfound understanding, I felt a lightness in my chest, a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in months. It was as if the burden I’d been carrying suddenly became lighter. The situation hadn’t changed, but my perspective had—and that made all the difference.

Caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s isn’t easy. Every day brings a new set of challenges, many of which don’t have clear solutions. But in those moments of chaos, we have the power to choose how we respond. By letting go of rigid expectations and embracing the reality of the disease, I found that caregiving could be less about control and more about compassion.

I stopped correcting my mom when she mixed up names or told the same story over and over again. I let her live in her world, one where the past and present blend together like watercolors. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t remember my name some days—what mattered is that she feels safe, loved, and understood.

This brings me back full circle for why I pursue certain projects. Self-care became more than just a buzzword for me. It became an essential practice, a lifeline. I started to give myself permission to step back when I needed to, whether that meant taking a walk, calling a friend, or simply sitting in silence for a few moments. Because I couldn’t give her my best if I was running on empty.

She gave me life. And now, as her memories fade and her world shrinks, I owe her everything. Not out of obligation, but out of love. Because, in the end, it’s not about what she remembers—it’s about how she feels. And that, I can help with.

This journey is hard. But tonight, I realized something profound: sometimes, the most important thing we can do is let go of what we thought caregiving should look like, and embrace it for what it is—a series of small acts of love and understanding, stitched together by patience and grace.

And that, in itself, is enough.

Torri L. Fisher, Author of “Forget Me Not: A Caregiver’s Guide to Early-Onset Alzheimer’s Disease”.

I hope you were as deeply moved as I was by this heartfelt reflection from our founder. It speaks to the often-overlooked emotional complexity of caregiving, highlighting the importance of compassion not only for those we care for but also for ourselves. I felt compelled to share it with you immediately, hoping it brings comfort to those navigating similar paths. May this story remind us all that even in the hardest moments, there is beauty in patience and grace.

What are your thoughts?

Did this story resonate with you or remind you of someone you care for? We’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. And if you know someone who might find comfort in these words, please share this post with them—it might be just what they need today!

Leave a Reply