I went to visit my mom today at the nursing home, like I always do. I sat with her and tried to think of things to tell her. She sat and kicked her feet not unlike a little kid whose feet are dangling about the ground (like hers were). They brought her dinner while I was there and I watched her eat. Her motor skills are definitely impaired, but she was managing.

I left her while she was eating, and while walking to my car, I felt a weight come over me. Mentally yes, but physically my steps slowed and I felt almost as if I was wading through water. My heart sunk. I got in my car and took a couple of breaths, then headed home. I was hoping the waterworks would hold off until I got home, but a few tears escaped before I pulled into the driveway.

I curled up on my bed and didn’t move for the longest time. My mind was racing with thoughts, but the loudest thought being heard over the others was “why me?” Why am I the one taking care of my sick parents. Why now? Why so early in my life? Why are they doing this to me? If they’d just lived healthier this mess wouldn’t have happened. Now, instead of living the life I expected in my 30’s I’m taking my dad to oncologist appointments early in the morning, visiting my mom in a nursing home not because I put her there, but because she’s sick and weak. Neither has hit 65 and they are in stages of dying. Its been this way with my mom since 2006. Because she was ill, I took care of my grandmother through her death, which was quickly followed by dad’s first round with cancer. My dad rebounded for a while, but my mother kept going downhill, and I knew when he took up drinking and smoking again after his surgery, and refused radiation, he would get sick again eventually.

My 36th birthday is on Wednesday. At this point in my life, I expected to be settled down, married. I would have a career and a home. My credit would still be outstanding and I would be happy with friends and a life. Instead, I’m living in a time capsule of my grandparents life, no job, no friends, absolutely no money to my name, hell, the money didn’t last long enough to pay off my own car since I didn’t get back to work after my mom got sick. I’ve been holding down a house that, while I live in it, doesn’t feel like I belong.

I’ve hit these lows before (as evidenced by similar blogs) but this one feels different. I don’t think I can shake this one off so easily. Hours later I’m still slugging through the weight. This is a hopeless feeling I have right now. A “what all have I lost” feeling. Yes, its all just feeling sorry for myself, but if I can’t function, how am I supposed to take care of everything?

I still managed to take a picture today. I guess I won’t be defeated in all things.