I am a woman over 60, a caregiver by circumstance, and a seeker of small joys by necessity. If you’ve come looking for a ‘5-step guide to a stress-free life,’ you’ve reached a dead end. I don’t have steps.
Header photo was taken my me, Shelly, in January 2026 at Gulf Shores.
I believe that honesty is a form of hospitality. When I am candid about the friction of my days, it creates a space where you are finally allowed to be tired.
I believe humor is the bridge. It is the only thing wide enough to span the gap between a grueling afternoon and a peaceful night’s sleep.
I believe in the quiet sanctity of the inner world. We can be deeply devoted to those we care for while remaining fiercely protective of the person we were before the diagnosis. Love is the motivation, but boundaries are the survival.
I have officially retired from the Performance of Caregiving. I no longer require the house to smell of lemon-pledge, nor do I need the neighbors to believe I am ‘holding it all together.’ I am holding a coffee mug and my own presence. Everything else is negotiable.
I have a clear-eyed view of the gravity of this role and a refusal to pretend that devotion is always easy. I understand the complexities of this life and refuse to believe that honoring my commitment means abandoning my own needs.
I built this space because the ‘Caregiver Industry’ is far too beige. I wanted a digital corner that felt like a heavy piece of cream-colored stationery—elegant and composed on the outside, but carrying a letter that is raw, ink-stained, and true on the inside. This is for the women who are running the marathon, but still have the spirit to talk about the world beyond the track.
