Welcome to The Male Caregiver's Compass (1)

You Are Not Alone - Even If It Feels Like It

You didn’t plan for this.

You didn’t ask for it either.

But here you are — doing your best to show up, day after day, for someone who may or may not remember your name.

And if you’re like a lot of male caregivers I’ve spoken to, there are days you feel invisible. The world doesn’t really see men in this role. Support groups are mostly women. The books are written for women. The assumptions are made about women.

And yet, here you are.

Welcome. You’ve found a place that speaks your language.

This newsletter exists for one reason: to provide guidance and companionship for men like you — navigating the long, uncertain road of caring for a loved one with dementia. Whether it’s your spouse, parent, sibling, or friend, you’re doing something that most people have no clue that it’s as hard as it is.

There’s no map for this journey. But there can be a compass.

In each issue I’ll share a small piece of something useful:

• A story from the trenches — the good, the bad, and the infuriating.

• A mindset tool that might make it stink just a little less.

• Something practical that helped me or someone else.

• And most of all, a reminder: you are not alone.

One Week’s Moment: The Coffee Cup

.Many moons ago, I found my dad pouring orange juice into a coffee mug — the one that used to say, “#1 Dad,” by then faded from too many dishwasher cycles.

He looked up at me and said, “Do you want me to drive you to school today?”

I was 55.

We stood there, both frozen. Him, in his own version of reality. Me, in mine, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or just nod and say, “Sure, Dad.”

I chose the nod.

We sat at the table and drank orange juice out of coffee mugs and I told him about a field trip we were taking to the zoo.

He smiled.

For a moment, we were somewhere in between who we were back then and who we were at that time. That’s the moment I’ll carry with me forever. That’s the one I’m sharing with you.

Try this:

When you’re at a loss for what to say, try this phrase:

“Let’s just sit for a minute.”

Silence is okay. Presence is enough.

Thanks for being here.

I’ll help you figure this out — one step, one story, one cup of orange juice at a time.

If you want to share your story, or just want to vent without judgement, hit reply. I’ll read every word.

Your Caregiving Wingman,

D. Chandler