By the Fourth of July, we welcomed our second resident.

Her name was Marla.

Marla wasn’t a stranger to me. She had once been my patient in a long-term care facility. She broke her hip, went to rehab, but something wasn’t right. The bone wasn’t healing. Further testing showed it had essentially disintegrated. Surgery was unavoidable.

What she didn’t want was to go back to rehab.

I told her and her family that she could recover in my home with support from home health care. They loved the idea. Marla…not so much. She wanted to go home. Completely understandable.

Her family doctor stepped in and told her what they couldn’t bring themselves to say: she wasn’t safe to return home yet.

That moment mattered more than people realize. It lifted the guilt from her family’s shoulders and gave everyone a plan they could live with.

That summer, I started staying at HolistiCare Homes four nights a week.

Every day was the same. I worked all day, went home briefly, then went back to work. That was the first Fourth of July I ever worked, and yes, there were moments when I questioned my sanity. The work felt never-ending.

But through it all, there was also meaning.

Those early days taught me how the house needed to flow. What routines mattered. Where systems broke down. And how much families needed reassurance that someone was truly paying attention.

It was exhausting.
And it was worth it.

Around that same time, I realized something else.

I don’t love networking. I like people, just not in loud rooms with small talk and name tags.

That’s when Patti stepped in.

Patti is a connector in the truest sense. She builds relationships with heart and intention. While she keeps us visible and connected in the community, I get to stay grounded in the home, supporting residents and families one-on-one. Finally, I was where I wanted to be.

That balance changed everything.

Over time, it became clear that families needed more than care. They needed explanation. Conversation. Space to ask questions without feeling rushed or dismissed.

So I started hosting family meetings. First monthly, then every other month. We talked about what was changing, why it was happening, and what could help.

Understanding reshaped the experience. It didn’t make it easy, but it made it less scary.

I took the same approach with my team. Regular one-on-one meetings. Then quarterly check-ins. Not just to manage tasks, but to listen, support, and challenge them to stay present and mindful in their work.

Because this work is not about going through the motions.
It’s about intentionally showing up.

If you’re walking this path as a care partner and feeling stretched thin, you’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing something hard.

I share more of what I’ve learned, and what I wish families knew sooner, through my newsletter, Save Our Sanity Society. It’s built for people who want preparation, not panic, and support that actually helps.

Some seasons require more of you.
They also shape who you become.

This home, these people, my connection and creating a space for support is important to me. This is how it all started…“The Day We Said Yes”