It’s been quite a while since I last sat down to write. A lot has happened, and I know there’s more I’ll eventually want to share, but for now I just want to document where I’m at. This blog started as a space for me to remember, to process, and to move forward with everything life has thrown my way.

Over the past six months, I’ve had to face some hard truths that left me feeling paralyzed. On the surface I managed to function day to day, but caring for myself slowly slipped further down the list. Eventually, it fell off altogether. I stopped doing anything for myself, not out of neglect, but because the weight of it all left me depressed.

My father’s terminal illness has progressed significantly. We are now searching for memory care facilities as he is becoming a danger to himself. At the same time, I am dealing with the reality of our family dogs. I have had them for nine years, but between a lease that does not allow pets, financial setbacks, and my brother moving into a smaller place, we are preparing to rehome them. It is heartbreaking, but unavoidable.

On top of that, I have taken on my father’s legal matters, with debt, no assets, and no life insurance, and the responsibility is heavy. My brother has taken on much of the day-to-day, while I do what I can from six hours away. There is no parent to lean on for guidance. It is just the two of us figuring it out. Balancing this while trying to start my career is exhausting. I am working full time and nannying part time just to afford what is needed.

I am not where I want to be in life right now, but I am learning to accept that there is a reason. Maybe I am going through this because I can handle it. What I am doing matters, and someday this experience might help me guide others who need it.

Noticing my Growth

Through all of this I have also noticed how much I have grown. I can see the ways I have stretched, adapted, and found strength in myself that I did not know was there. At the same time, that growth has come at a cost.

It has become hard for me to relate to my peers. Many of them are living what I imagined a more typical 26-year-old life looks like, while I am navigating a journey that most people do not face until their late forties or fifties: watching a parent decline and preparing for their death. This experience has felt incredibly isolating.

People tell me that I am doing well, that I am cared for, that I am loved. Yet in this season those words feel hollow. They do not reach the part of me that is grieving, exhausted, and stretched thin. It feels like no one can truly understand the weight of what I am carrying, and that loneliness sometimes cuts deeper than the responsibilities themselves.

Finding the Positives

Now that I have gotten the rant out, here are some of the positives:

• We have a social worker helping us find a memory care home for my father within our budget.
• We have reconnected with his estranged siblings, and they have become a surprising and steady source of emotional support.
• I have started reaching out to free legal services for help with estate planning, IRS issues, and debts.
• I have a stable full-time job with great health benefits.
• Most importantly: I am alive.

My Own Path

I know this is not what a traditional 26-year-old life looks like, but when has my life ever been traditional? My journey has always been uniquely mine, and this is no different. My life is my own, and it is the path meant for me.

There are so many things I can control, and as long as I keep working toward my goals and trying my hardest, I know I will be okay. If I stay trapped in negativity, I will only see what is missing and not what is good. I do not want to get stuck there. Life does not always unfold the way I pictured it, and focusing too much on what could have been only drags me deeper into sadness. Adaptability is one of the greatest strengths we have as humans, and I have to lean on that now more than ever.

The Weight of the World

I would be lying if I did not acknowledge that what is happening in the world also weighs heavily on me. Global suffering, instability, and injustice feel overwhelming at times, and in comparison, my own struggles can seem small. I carry an almost constant sense of guilt for thinking my problems are bad when others face unimaginable pain. But the truth is both realities exist: the suffering out there, and the struggles in here. My pain does not cancel out theirs, and theirs does not make mine invalid. Both are real, and both deserve compassion.

Moving Forward

This post is mostly just me getting back into the rhythm of writing, a reminder that putting words down helps me process. It is not polished, but it is real. I want to keep showing up here, even if it is just to rant, because writing helps me breathe.