I just... I don't even know what to do anymore, you know? Like, I’m 60. Retired teacher, for crying out loud. I should be, like, traveling, volunteering, doing all the stuff I saved up for. Instead, I spend pretty much every day just trying to keep my mom happy, and honestly, it’s getting to be too much. Way too much. It started subtly, like, just little things, you know? Forgetting appointments, leaving the stove on. My brother lives across the country so it’s all on me, obviously. And at first, I was like, "Okay, this is fine, I can handle this." She’s still sharp sometimes, she’ll have these moments where she’s totally herself, and then five minutes later, she’s asking me if I fed the dog we haven’t had in ten years. And she gets so mad when I remind her. Like, REALLY mad. "You think I'm losing it, don't you?" and I’m like, "No, Mom, of course not," but I’m just trying to make dinner without her wandering off or criticizing every single thing I do. "Why are you cutting the carrots like that? Your father always liked them diced." I mean, I don't even—whatever. Last week, she fell. Just a little trip in the kitchen, but it scared me. Scared her too, I think. She was fine, just a bruise, but it made me realize how quickly things can change. And it’s not just the physical stuff, it’s the mental drain. I can’t go out with friends anymore without a whole production of finding a sitter for her, and even then, I’m just waiting for the phone to ring. My neighbor, Carol, asked me about it the other day, like, "Oh, is your mother still doing so well?" And I just smiled and said, "She’s wonderful," because what am I supposed to say? "She screamed at me for using the wrong coffee mug this morning?" You can’t just tell people that. And then I started looking into assisted living places. Just… looking. Online, you know? And the GUILT, oh my god, the guilt is crushing me. My mom always said she never wanted to be put in a home. "Don't you ever put me in one of those places," she’d say, like it was the worst thing in the world. And now I’m sitting here, staring at brochures with smiling seniors playing bingo, and I feel like the most awful daughter on the planet. Like I'm betraying her. I am her only real help here. But I'm so TIRED. I haven't slept through the night in weeks. Every little noise, I'm up, checking on her. I took her to the doctor last month and he gently suggested it, like, "Have you considered more specialized care?" And I almost started crying right there. It feels like I’m giving up, you know? Like I'm failing her. But I’m also kind of failing myself too, because my life is just… gone. And I don't know if I can keep doing this alone. I just… I don’t know what to do.