A Caregiver Anniversary

This was May 5, 2021. Five years ago today my life turned on a dime and I became my mom’s caregiver. When this journey first began, someone I was introduced to, who had been her own mother’s caregiver, warned, “This will be the hardest thing—mentally, spiritually, and emotionally—you will ever do.”

She. Ain’t. Never. Lied.

You all already know I’m exhausted and hanging on by a thread. I suppose some of that is to be expected, but I remain dismayed by how much I feel a shell of my former self. The effervescence, happiness, and joie de vivre that once emanated from me effortlessly now require a summoning I have little energy to bring forth. I barely remember what it feels like to dream, and what dreams remain feel pointlessly futile. I am lost at sea in a life that is painful to recognize or accept as my own.

Still, I’m here, lasting and surviving, which must count for something. My strength and resilience have been proven and minted. Knowledge, expanded; patience, unmatched. My faith, confidence, and self-belief wobble on shaky ground, but somewhere within lies a flickering light of hope. Hope for a life abundant in joy, purpose, community, and self-actualization. And on this I shall build my foundation for the years to come. Pull myself up and push myself forward, moment by moment, or even second by second, until I find myself frolicking, again, on greener pastures. I must.

Not gonna make it another five, otherwise.