Carlos Olivas

In 2022, I got the opportunity to attend a caregiver retreat in the mountains of Colorado. Many of the activities were designed to understand there is hope in community. One of my biggest takeaways from the trip is to rely on a support team — or, as we called it at the retreat, “a rope team.” I have built a circle of caregivers, coaches, friends, family, allies and supporters who are my own rope team.

July 22, 2024

Carlos L. Olivas III cares for his father, Carlos L. Olivas Jr., who was diagnosed with mild cognitive impairment in 2015 and with Alzheimer’s dementia in 2017. He calls his father his “hero.”

There’s so much that I wish I knew when it all began in 2015 with a phone call from my dad’s dentist’s office, expressing concerns about his health. I was listed as his emergency contact and they were concerned about my dad’s poor oral hygiene, body odor, and him getting lost on his way to the appointment. It was an eye-opening moment and this journey has been a long, roller coaster ride. I may be only half way there.

That phone call led to my younger brother, Cesareo, taking time off work to accompany our dad to his primary care doctor; what followed was a blur of phone calls, decisions, and plans for the future.

After many discussions, I decided to move home from Southern California, leaving behind my career as an equipment operator in live event production. I was unprepared for the twists and turns ahead. What I wish I knew at the beginning was the emotional turmoil that I’d suffer. It was a very dark place. No one can coach you when you don’t think you need guidance — and I was in denial about my father’s memory loss and my own emotional imbalance. Plus there were so many misconceptions about this disease.

Over time I learned that I needed to surround myself with empathy, compassion, and other people who understand loss. The saying goes: “If you have seen one person with dementia, you have seen one person with dementia”— that each person living with the disease is unique, and the pace of progression, behavioral characteristics, and brain capacity are specific to each individual. 

It is not easy. I don’t encourage anyone to become a family caregiver the way I did. It’s up to the individual and it is a matter of the heart. I became a caregiver out of the love I have for my father. I had no clue what I was doing. I told myself, “How hard can it be to take care of my dad?” It turned out to be really hard.

After a couple of years of completely losing myself in grief, I had to have a talk with myself. My ego needed to reconcile with my heart.

A few strategies helped me:

  • Attending an in-person caregiver support group where I found people who understand.
  • Learning about Alzheimer’s: Knowledge is power.
  • Exploring self-care practices: Taking time out for myself.
  • Volunteering with the Alzheimer’s Association: Giving back and connecting with others.
  • Receiving caregiver coaching from the Rosalynn Carter Institute for Caregiving: Getting professional guidance.
  • Participating in caregiver studies: Improving my confidence.

I learned to prioritize myself so I could provide better care for my dad. I became his best friend, with no regrets at the decision I’d made. I took charge of my own health and set personal goals. I developed a caregiver mindset that helped me handle difficult behaviors.

One strategy was to mask my emotions by faking a smile each morning when I greeted Dad. Direct eye contact and positive vocal interactions comforted him. Understanding the unmet needs of a person who is navigating Alzheimer’s is crucial.

I listened to my dad and the nuances of his condition. I practiced patience and let Dad teach me how to care for him. I also learned to listen to myself; ask what I needed to help me on my own journey. To this day, I participate in six caregiver support groups — these people are my tribe, offering support and understanding.

Setting aside personal time to rejuvenate and restore myself was essential. Fueling my energy with love and self-care stabilized my inner soul, making me resilient and sound.

Family dynamics can be complex and painful. I feel I have failed and lost battles with my family in many ways; there are differences of opinion about how to approach caring for my dad and some family members disagree with our chosen approach. I’ve been excluded from family gatherings, which has made me feel abandoned from members of my own family.

My brother and I in particular were at odds before he died from alcoholism. We battled with each other over how to best care for our dad. And I felt like I was caring not only for my dad living with Alzheimer’s but also for my brother. In my grief and guilt, I feel that I failed my brother and failed at balancing our family challenges together. The dynamics are sharp and painful. I wish I could go back in time and ease the pain. Some things cannot be undone. I have my share of battle wounds, and I cry at times because of the loss.

How do you overcome these moments of conflict? I ask myself that repeatedly. The best approach, I think, is to be vulnerable and handle matters openly, with grace and respect.

Within all the chaos, there is joy. Joy can take your breath away. Holding my dad’s hand provides more comfort on a cool, windy day. It is a transfer of energy bonded in love; tough, unconditional love. Have a talk with your loved ones about future care, their financial affairs, and end-of-life wishes. It’ll be hard, but it’s in the best interest of all parties to review and build a plan.

I wish I knew that heartbreak would defeat my soul and that early mistakes would impact my journey. But I also know I am not alone. In 2022, I got the opportunity to attend a caregiver retreat in the mountains of Colorado. Many of the activities were designed to understand there is hope in community. One of my biggest takeaways from the trip is to rely on a support team — or, as we called it at the retreat, “a rope team.” I have built a circle of caregivers, coaches, friends, family, allies and supporters who are my own rope team. They understand the challenges and witness the greatness of servitude.

I encourage you to champion your season of caregiving. Harness the wisdom of those who have lived through their journey. Advocate for healthcare policy and support for caregivers. Remember, you are not alone, and together, we can find strength, hope, and love in this journey. Keep moving forward, one step at a time, and cherish the moments of connection and joy.