In a personal sense, the degree of attachment to our partner is an almost infinitely variable connection in a loving way. Alternatively, partners can also become detached, and that can mean being separated physically, and/or emotionally, from a loved one. Intrinsically, we all hanker for a caring relationship with the person closest to us; tragically that connection is often fragile and tenuous, liable to disconnection and isolation – even as we yearn for it to be stronger.

I guess most of us have experienced a degree of discomfort within a personal attachment. Even antagonism and unhappiness can exist momentarily or longer in an otherwise happy and settled relationship. After a minor disruption, the process of making-up is the flip side, the happy ending we usually experience. Our lives when shared with any partner invariably include all kinds of minor disturbances and we are generally able to move on and resume our loving relationship.

As my readers may well know, there are new and differing aspects when we are living with an Alzheimer’s afflicted partner. Such an evolving relationship uncovers a multifaceted range of circumstances; it discloses quite separate perspectives requiring both parties to learn a whole new raft of responses and behaviours.

Adapting to those constantly emerging changes can be, and usually is, nerve-wracking and debilitating. Like me, you will develop coping mechanisms. You will discover ways and means to remain calm, to get some quality sleep time, to try and develop your own interests and activities and, at the same time (!), find happy activities you can both share together.

That’s a big ask. Early on, for as long as I could manage, two of my important techniques were for me to read aloud and for us to walk together. Even that was not always easy. Moods, weather, health, physical difficulties, singly or at the same time, can complicate even the simple act of sitting still or going for a walk. Just cajoling your partner to change footwear from slippers to appropriate walking shoes can turn into a disruption or abandonment of plan!

But a carer must also accept the need for periods of detachment for refreshment; must find a method of diversion from the constancy of care with its hurts and stresses. One paramount part of my armoury, my skillset to cope, included recognising that I needed help so I could ‘have a break’. If you, my reader, are feeling jaded and too attached, all the time, you should talk to someone about balancing the ‘attached and detached’. There’s a world of difference!