(The post below was written on January 28, 2020. My mom passed on April 4, 2020.)
I just turned 35 years old.
I haven’t had a real job in almost seven years.
Not because I’m a stay-at-home mom. Not because I’m having babies and raising children.
Not because I’m disabled or sick or unable to work for some reason.
Not because I’m lazy or I don’t have ambition. Not because I don’t want to contribute to my household.
But because life has dealt me a bad hand of cards at a young age, or at least younger age than most people.
Because I’ve been a caregiver for my mom with Alzheimer’s off and on since I was 25. Because I’ve stepped up to not only help my dad, but to take care of him, as well.
Because I’ve been grieving for the last ten years. Grieving a loss that still has yet to come. Because grief isn’t something you can just turn off.
Because that grief and impending loss has led me to depression at times. Because my anxiety has been at an all-time high and I feel overwhelmed by even the smallest tasks.
Because I’ve chosen to put my parents’ needs before my own and it has caused me to put my life, my dreams, and my goals on hold.
I’ve spent the last several years beating myself up for not being further along in life. I’ve had a few accomplishments, but I haven’t done the “big thing” yet. I’m not even sure I know what the big thing is.
I’ve felt depressed. I’ve felt worthless. I’ve felt like a loser.
But I’m learning to accept that now is just not my time.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I’m supposed to do, right now.
I’m learning what I’m supposed to learn to become the person I’m supposed to be and do the big thing I’m supposed to do.
The big thing isn’t happening right now because I’m not ready for it. Now is just not my time. My focus and my priority is on other things.
One day I will be ready. One day it will be my time. One day I will do the big thing. One day this will all make sense.
One day I’ll start really living again.
And I fully intend to live a life that honors my mom. A life that does her pain and suffering justice. A life that carries on her legacy.
But for today, I will simply go sit and hold her hand. Because today, that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.