Do It Badly

As a perfectionist dickfuck who's trying to change the world, my goal for 2025 is to be more half-arsed about everything.

I was having a little meltdown the other day — well, my personal version of a meltdown where my body calls it quits and decides to sleep for half the day because it’s done with me stressing out over my to-do list. This happens every now and then when I have a day off work and I’ve set myself some small tasks that I’ve turned into gigantic tasks in my mind.

This time, I had to make a few calls and send some emails on behalf of my aunt, a vibrant 70-year-old living with Alzheimer’s disease who resides in an aged care facility. The people I needed to contact included her podiatrist (can you visit her instead of her coming to you?); the aged care facility (can staff dress her in the mornings? And can they please open her blinds?); and the lady we pay to take her outside on the days my brother and I can’t be there (can you add an extra day?).

Last on this list was me sending an email to my aunt’s geriatrician, who occasionally visits the facility, to say: hey, the staff keep having conversations with me about her sundowning as though there’s something I can do about it. One even commented in an exasperated tone that “she’s not even on anything!” It seems obvious to me that they want her on medication, and I’m sure they genuinely think this will help. But since we know that no drugs can help with sundowning, perhaps you — as someone with authority — can take a moment to educate them?

For those who aren’t familiar with sundowning, it’s a term used to describe the increased confusion, restlessness, or anxiety many people who are living with dementia experience in the late afternoon or early evenings. Research shows that sundowning is caused by a number of factors, including: impaired circadian rhythm; lack of sunshine; lack of exercise; lack of stimulating activities; too much noise; tiredness; and sometimes physical pain. On that basis, there are things we can do to minimise sundowning, and our focus should be there.

This email felt scary to me because it could have big consequences. If I wrote it well and the geriatrician thought “yep, I can definitely take a moment to educate the aged care facilities I work with a little more”, then it could help a lot of people. If I wrote it poorly and he gave some half-arsed response and deleted my email, then what other opportunities do I have to improve her living conditions, and the living conditions of people in the same situation? I’ve already done everything else I can. I’ve undertaken dementia training. I’ve started a website for people in my area. I’ve spoken to politicians. I’ve met with geriatricians, specialists and GPs. Most importantly, I’ve spoken to the aged care facility.

But nothing much is changing. The place is noisy, with a huge grandfather clock that chimes every half hour. Staff still call out to each other down corridors, and burst into rooms with a single tap of their fists but no pause. The residents have no access to sunshine (surely a bi-weekly morning tea in the garden downstairs could be a thing?), and indoor activities are irregular and depend on the availability of volunteers.

Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful — genuinely grateful — for the staff who care for my aunt. Most of what I’m annoyed about really is a management issue (and in some ways an Australian government issue), rather than a staff issue. But a little dementia training and some rejigging of priorities would go a long way. All of the signs on the walls saying “people first!” and “this isn’t our workplace, this is their home!” mean nothing when they’re not put into practice.

Put it this way: I’d experience sundowning if I lived there, too.

Yet I am continuously pulled aside to be told: “We need to talk to you about her sundowning, she does get quite distressed.” Sometimes these conversations are initiated in front of my aunt — which to me shows that they've forgotten her humanity — and it understandably causes her additional distress. “I don’t want to be taken away,” she once said. “Have I done something wrong?”

I visit my aunt four days a week and it’s true, she does experience sundowning. Maybe once a week she’s crying when I get there, asking for her mum and dad. It’s disruptive for staff and residents, but it’s worse for her. I can calm her down by taking her outside and listening for a while, followed by some distraction techniques like: “Look at that tree!” or “Hey, that number plate says EEK!” But this is understandably very difficult for staff to do since they, too, are stuck inside the facility.

This is why it’s important for management in aged care facilities to implement and oversee some of the low-cost best practice guidelines that already exist to make the environment a little better. The science is clear that drugs for sundowning do not work, and they come with extreme side effects. But it’s also clear that improving the environment and providing meaningful activities does actually make a difference in reducing the frequency and severity of sundowning episodes.

Because all of this is such a big deal in my mind, and because the elderly are so forgotten in our culture (particularly those who are living with dementia), these tiny tasks I set for myself to shift the status quo seem so much bigger. But this “embiggening”¹ doesn’t help anyone; it only makes me feel exhausted.

So the day after my sleepy-time meltdown, I thought, you know what, I’m just going to do it badly. Who the fuck am I to think that one well-worded email will change the quality of dementia care in our area? I’m not saying that action isn’t important; it is. But I can’t control what the receiver of the email will think, what he values, or if he’s already had these conversations and I’m wasting his time. I can’t control if he’s having a good or bad day, or has the time and energy to consider what I’ve written. I can’t control if the receptionist gives him the damn email in the first place.

I took a deep breath, had a cry (yes, I cried about writing an email), and felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I let go of my perfectionism, and my insane and somewhat arrogant ability to think I’m personally responsible for shit that’s well beyond my control, and just did it badly. As a side note, the badly written email turned out not so bad after all. Will it make a difference? Maybe not. Did I give it a go without destroying myself? I certainly did.

Moving forward, I genuinely can’t wait to be more half-arsed about the things I care about.

Your “likes” matter! Please consider tapping the heart down the bottom left of this article if it resonated with you. It’s free, it gives a lil lurve, and it helps other people see my work.

Selfie with my aunt, January 2025

1. Word stolen from The Simpsons