The Word We Avoided...Until Now

Early onset dementia. A day waiting is a day wasted.

The littles were on spring break this week. Meaning only that our attention turned for a quick minute from Dr.’s appointments and adulting to creating memories with them instead.

• The Indianapolis Children’s Museum was a hit (with the exception of the spring break crowd sensory overload).

• We spruced up the princess’s bedroom to a more suitable shade of pink vs white. 💕

• Welcomed Evan in for a quick weekend visit before he had to get back to University of Arkansas (drum set in tow for his new band gigs around town).

Beans & Boba | Indianapolis Children's Museum & Staycation March 2025

Unexpectedly nestled in between the bright highlights of the week, G, somewhat begrudgingly, made his way to his psychologist appointment mid-morning on Friday. He asked her to level with him. She pulled no punches.

Dementia.

There is no timeline. But there is a progression. A narrowing of the view of limitless possibilities.

So NOW is the time to LIVE big. To seize joy in full and to make memories. To travel. To bathe in life rather than to watch life being lived by others on a screen. Untouchable.

We must touch life itself and allow others to be touched by the life we live in return. Our stories, as they dance and embrace and intermingle, create something altogether new. A balm. Hope. We fan the flames to make the world brighter.

In all that hasn’t made sense along the way, I pulled in and shut down. I did it slowly at first, waiting for dust to settle, naively believing that life would go “back to normal” sooner than later. But there were no words to find. No “normal” where it was safe to return. Now there is only onward. In many ways it is far more beautiful than “familiar,” but it is a disorienting fork in the road of life.

Caregiving and life-sharing IS the new next. It’s all that I can see. It’s all that we can commit to giving back. But IT IS GOOD. I trust in all that I cannot see. Faith has gifted me this sort of grit. The kind of grit that cries a lot but knows that tears shared with friends is a vulnerable and powerful prayer.

Here’s to sharing the raw and calling it healing.

If you have any questions for G and I, would you drop them in a comment below? We are going to try and record some audio posts (podcasts? I dunno— but subscribe & follow to keep up with notes & posts here) but we realize that we have lived this so deeply (how infinitely moreso for him! ❤️‍🩹) that sometimes we forget how to even go back and fill in the gaps where questions hover for you!

If you happen to have any recommendations on things that we can see, do or experience both locally or elsewhere, will you message me or send an email to joyfullykirsten@gmail.com?

We can’t do this alone: Making a living. Making a life. Making memories. I thought I had to figure it all out alone. I was SO VERY WRONG. Those things all take a village! I’m so grateful that you’re my village people. 😉 (Please tell me that made you giggle— we need all the laughs we can get right now!)