I didn’t set out to be anything. Not a disruptor. Not a whistleblower. I just didn’t want it to happen.

The nonprofit facility where I served on the board had cared for older Mainers for over a century, quietly, on the banks of the Kennebec River. But by the time I joined, it was already at risk. When word got out that the facility might close, the explanation was simple: COVID. But I had served on the board. I knew that wasn’t the whole story.

There were three narratives circulating: One blamed the pandemic. One pointed to politics. One said the care market was collapsing under its own weight. Only one of those wasn’t true. The pandemic didn’t cause the collapse — it just accelerated what was already happening.

Behind the scenes, I saw how the system fails the very people it’s meant to serve. Our residents weren’t poor enough for MaineCare and not wealthy enough for private-pay rates. Even if families (who were not told) tried to do the right thing, they would have been met with waitlists, confusion or total silence.

Eventually, I stepped off the board — not because I gave up, but because I understood the politics better than most. I had already spoken to the press. I had already said it plainly: this wasn’t about a virus. This was industry failure.

A few weeks later, I got a text. A short local news clip had aired, announcing the facility’s closure. No context. No deeper explanation. That’s how senior care fails in Maine. Quietly, and with no clear path for the families caught in between. I don’t know everything that happened behind the scenes, but I do know this: had industry professionals and decision-makers been called in early, the outcome might have been very different.

Although Maine is full of people who know how to steady a system under pressure, no coordinated call for help ever came. Without it, the opportunity to act passed quietly by.

Still, something remarkable happened. People stepped up. Not for credit. Not for politics. Just because it was right. The facility didn’t close. It began again. Quietly. Bravely. Behind the scenes. It wasn’t an ending — it was a beginning.

But the deeper problems remain.

Across Maine, referral agents — not medical professionals — are shaping where people move and who gets care. Families are often guided to facilities that pay national lead-generation platforms, while more thoughtful or affordable options are never even mentioned. It’s not transparent, and it’s not fair.

Meanwhile, Medicaid pathways remain confusing. Most people don’t realize that qualifying doesn’t guarantee placement. It depends on licenses, timing and processes that most families never get to see.

That’s why I built Maine Aging Partners — not just as a business, but as a response to systemic weakness. Because no one was offering clear, values-driven guidance through a system that’s become nearly impossible to navigate. Because the collapse of care shouldn’t be a secret. Because families shouldn’t have to learn by losing.

This work didn’t just give me a new role — it gave me a new lens. I now work at the intersection of planning, policy and lived experience. I help people act and make plans before their options vanish. I help professionals see what’s coming. And I build bridges where there used to be silence.

The truth is, there’s no one fix coming. But there are people — across party lines, across the state — ready to protect what matters.

My work is just one piece of that response. The next version of senior care in Maine won’t be built by accident. It will be built by all of us, together — before it’s too late.