Licensed Psychologist Offering Online LGBTQ+ Affirming Dementia Caregiver Support in Wisconsin, Utah, Colorado, and 40+ PSYPACT States
You’re taking care of them.
But who’s taking care of you?
You can't keep doing this alone.
You’re exhausted from trying to keep everything together, and you’re starting to wonder how much longer you can keep doing this.
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You’re burning out.
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You’re scared of what’s coming. You dread what the future might bring, and you may feel guilty for even admitting that sometimes you don’t want to do this anymore.
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You love the person you’re caring for, and you’re allowed to need care, too.
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If the interwebs brought you here, maybe now is the time to get that support.
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I'm Dr. Weston Donaldson, and I'm here to help you find a way to care for them without disappearing yourself.
Together, we can have space to talk about the hard stuff while starting to help you find ways to get back to the other things that matter that you might have put aside.
You can love them and still be completely over it.
You never imagined you'd be doing this.
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At first, it was probably small things.
Helping with finances. Making meals. Running errands. Keeping track of appointments.
Then there were more questions. More reminders. More things your person couldn't manage on their own.
And now you're directing showers and getting them dressed.
Repeating the same answer for what feels like the hundredth time.
Keeping track of medications, appointments, meals, behaviors, and whatever crisis happens to be happening today.
Your life has slowly become organized around someone else's needs.
And you're tired. Exhausted. Pissed off. It’s not fair.
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Maybe you're thinking: “I can't keep doing it like this.”​ Maybe you want to scream, but you don't have the energy.
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Maybe you sometimes fantasize about getting in the car and just driving away.​ And then you feel guilty for even thinking it.
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Holy shit! No wonder you're exhausted.​​​​
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You can love someone deeply and still resent what caregiving has done to your life.
You can want to be there for them and desperately need a life of your own.
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If you're LGBTQ+, there may be another layer: you don't want to spend your precious emotional energy explaining your relationship, or worrying about the feelings of people who are supposed to be helping you.
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You need somewhere you can just be understood.
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I offer a place where you don’t have to explain yourself, where you can share the messy parts to get clear on how you can shift the balance and let your needs start mattering again.
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I don't want therapy to help you become better at disappearing.​ I want to help you find your way back to yourself.
Not by abandoning the person you care for, but by remembering that you are still in this story, too.
Set up a free consultation today so we can talk about how working together could help.
What if you don't have to figure all of this out alone?
You may have already looked at caregiver resources.
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Maybe you've visited the Alzheimer's Association website.
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Maybe someone suggested a support group.
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And maybe you thought: Nope. Not for me. Not yet.
You don't necessarily want to sit in a room and hear other people's generic caregiver stories.
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You want someone to understand your situation.
Your relationship.
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Your family of choice.
Your sexuality or gender.
Your community.
Your whole life.
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Caregiving doesn't happen in a vacuum. As an LGBTQ+ person, you may have very real concerns about bringing outside people into your home.
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What will a home care worker think when they see your photos?
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Will they respect your relationship?
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Will you feel safe being fully yourself?
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These aren't small details.
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They can affect whether you're willing to ask for help at all.
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You shouldn't have to spend therapy explaining why your family looks the way it does. Instead, you can get online support in the place you are most comfortable, without the worry of being judged or discounted.
You don't have to choose between caring for them and caring for yourself.
Hi, I'm Dr. Weston Donaldson (he/him).
I'm a gay psychologist who helps LGBTQ+ dementia caregivers cope with complicated feelings and relationship changes that can come with dementia caregiving, helping them get out of painful patterns and feel like themselves again.
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I want you to know something right from the start:​
Your anger doesn't make you a bad person.​ Your resentment doesn't mean you don't love them. ​Your exhaustion doesn't mean you've lost your empathy.​ And needing help doesn't mean you're weak.
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You're dealing with a situation that asks an enormous amount of you—and keeps asking for more as the dementia progresses.
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You can't simply organize your way out of that.
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You can't positive-think your way out of it.
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And you certainly can't just grit your teeth and handle it forever.​​​​
In therapy, we'll talk honestly about the things that may be difficult to say out loud anywhere else.
We'll figure out where there's room for change, and set goals where that's helpful.
We'll make space for the difficult emotions, worries, and patterns that keep you up at night: The anger. The guilt. ​The changing relationship.​The sex and intimacy questions.​ The fear about 'what comes next.'
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We'll strategize to help you manage your person's difficult moments.
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We'll work together to figure out where you might be able to let go of some responsibility, and how to build more people into your team.
We'll talk about what matters most to you, and how to get back to it. Instead of suffocating, you'll start to live a life that considers your needs too.
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Because you're still a person, not just a caregiver.
You already have some of what you need.
I trust that as an LGBTQ+ person, if you've gotten this far in life, you have some qualities we can build on.
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You've probably had to figure things out.
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You've learned how to create family and community in ways that weren't always handed to you.
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You've developed resilience without necessarily calling it resilience.
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Those qualities matter now.
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We can build on them.
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But resilience doesn't mean you have to do everything alone.
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They say it takes a village to raise children. The same is true at the other end of the lifespan.
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You need a village, too.
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My job isn't to tell you exactly what you should do: You know your life. Instead, I'll help you slow things down, sort through the options, figure out what matters, and reconnect with your own wisdom when everything feels like too much.
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We'll look at what you can control, what you can't, and where you may have more choices than you realize.
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And we'll work toward a life where caregiving is one part of your life—not the thing that has consumed your entire life.
What might change?
The goal isn't to turn you into a happier, more efficient caregiver who can tolerate even more.
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Honestly? You already tolerate a lot.
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The goal is to help you build a life that can hold caregiving without caregiving taking over your entire life.
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That might mean learning to take a break without spending the entire break feeling guilty.
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It might mean asking someone else to help—and actually letting them.
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It might mean creating routines that give you a little more breathing room.
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It might mean getting back to something you used to enjoy simply because you enjoy it.
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A walk.
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Coffee with a friend.
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Something fun. Just because.
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It may mean learning to respond differently when your person says or does something hurtful, frightening, or frustrating.
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Instead of automatically thinking: “Why are they doing this to me?” you may be able to recognize: “This is the disease. This isn't necessarily about me.”
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That distinction can change a lot.
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Not because it makes the behavior okay, but because it can give you some emotional space to decide what you want to do next.
What might your life look like if the pressure started to lift?
You may still have hard days. Your person will still have dementia. Things will likely continue to change.
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This isn't about pretending otherwise.
But imagine: You have people on your team. You can take a break without feeling like you're abandoning someone.
You can leave the house without mentally running through seventeen possible disasters.
You can recognize when your person's behavior is the dementia talking rather than taking every word personally.
You can have a morning to yourself.
You can make plans. You can do something simply because you want to.
You can care for your person and care for yourself.
And perhaps most importantly: You feel more like yourself again.
The caregiving isn't necessarily easier, but you're not as derailed by it. You have more clarity about what belongs to you, what belongs to your person, and what belongs to the disease.
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You can find meaning in caring for someone without allowing caregiving to become the entirety of your identity.
Others found a way forward...
One caregiver came into therapy feeling stressed, overwhelmed, disconnected, and not like themselves at all.
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Their life had become organized around the immediate needs of the person with dementia. They were responding to one crisis after another and couldn't imagine how to plan for what might come next.
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They sometimes wanted to run away from it all—and then felt guilty for having that thought.
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Through therapy, they began incorporating small things that helped them feel like themselves again. They learned to take breaks and reach out for help without seeing that as weakness. They began talking more openly with friends and seeking additional professional support.
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And something important changed.
They no longer felt quite so alone. The closed-in feeling began to lift.
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They could see things more clearly and plan ahead.
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They became better able to recognize which behaviors belonged to their person and which belonged to the disease rather than taking everything personally.
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Eventually, they described finding more balance. They were making time for themselves while also finding meaning in caring for their person.
It wasn't over. It wasn't always easy, but caregiving no longer derailed their whole life.
That's a very different kind of success.
You might be wondering....
“Does taking care of myself mean I'm abandoning them?”
No.
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Taking care of yourself is not the same thing as abandoning someone.
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In fact, if you're completely depleted, isolated, and running on fumes, that's not a sustainable way to care for anyone.
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You are allowed to have needs, too.
“What if other people don't understand or accept our relationship?”
That's one of the reasons working with someone who understands LGBTQ+ life can matter.
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You shouldn't have to spend your therapy session teaching me why chosen family matters, why your relationship may not fit a traditional caregiving model, or why bringing strangers into your home can feel vulnerable.
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You get to start with the actual problem.
“What if I'm angry all the time?”
Let's talk about it.
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Anger isn't proof that you're a bad caregiver.
Sometimes anger is information.
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It may be telling you that you're overwhelmed, that you've lost too much autonomy, that you need help, that a boundary has been crossed, or that you're carrying more than one person reasonably can.
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We don't have to get rid of the anger.
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We can listen to what it's telling you and figure out what you want to do with that information.
“What if I don't even recognize my relationship anymore?”
That may be one of the hardest parts.
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We can talk about it honestly—including intimacy, sexuality, loneliness, resentment, love, grief, and all the complicated places where those things overlap.
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You don't have to sanitize your experience to make it acceptable.
This may be for you if...
We may be a good fit if:
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You're an LGBTQ+ adult caring for a partner, former partner, close friend, or chosen-family member with dementia.
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Your person's dementia has progressed to the point where you're taking on significant day-to-day responsibilities.
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You're exhausted by the repetition, decisions, vigilance, and constant responsibility.
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You're experiencing anger, resentment, guilt, loneliness, numbness, or emotional exhaustion.
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You're struggling with changes in your relationship, including intimacy and sexuality.
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You feel like caregiving has taken over your life and you're not sure how to get yourself back.
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You want individualized support from someone who understands LGBTQ+ life rather than having to translate your experience into a generic caregiver model.
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You're ready to consider doing things differently, even if you don't yet know exactly what that looks like.
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This may not be the right fit if:
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You're looking for someone to tell you exactly what you should do.
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You're looking for a therapist who will simply reassure you that everything you're doing is fine without challenging you when you're stuck.
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You're not interested in exploring ways to create a more sustainable life alongside caregiving.
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Therapy is personal. Finding the right therapist matters—whether that therapist is me or someone else.
Maybe you can keep doing this on your own...But what is it costing you?
You can keep managing the appointments, handling the next crisis, putting your own needs on the back burner, and telling yourself you'll take care of yourself when things settle down.
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But what if things don't settle down?
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Six months from now, you could still be running on empty, feeling increasingly isolated, and wondering how much longer you can keep this up.
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Or you could start making some changes now. You could find ways to get more support, make room for your own needs, and feel less alone in figuring out what comes next.
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You can't control everything about dementia or what the future holds. But you can start changing how much of it you have to carry by yourself.
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Your future self might be glad you took that first step.
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If you're ready to explore what support could look like, get in touch with me.
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You don't have to keep carrying all of this on your own.
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Caring for you is caring for them....Take the next step.
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You're managing appointments, making decisions, anticipating the next crisis, and worrying about what comes next. You love the person you're caring for, but you're exhausted—and you need support, too.
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If you're tired of muscling through, I'd be glad to talk with you about what you're facing and see whether we're a good fit.
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Wondering What Happens When You Reach Out?
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It starts with a free 15-minute video consultation. We'll talk about what's happening, what you'd like to be different, and how I work. We'll both decide whether working together feels like a good fit.
No pressure. No expectation that you have to have everything figured out.
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It starts with a conversation. Give me a call or book your free consultation. Let's explore how you can care for someone you love while making room for yourself, too.
For more on LGBTQ+ Dementia Caregiving Support:
