Fun times, bring them on.
I’ve never really been one to be excited about being a gown up or adulting, as they say nowadays. It has never seemed like fun to work and be responsible. I never have really felt like a grown up, although I certainly have been. I supposed it happened when I had Joy. It really happened when she had some extremely stressful health issues in high school, and her dad was worse than worthless, and the burden landed 100% on me. Those were the worst times, and I spent whatever time I had that wasn’t dealing fantasizing about being in Palm Springs in a loosely fitting white linen dress, drinking an iced vanilla breve and perusing a book store and alternatively praying that a meteor would hit and we could be done with the suffering. Fuck, that was a horrible time.
But right now is not horrible. Joy is doing well, I don’t have any pets to be responsible for. If I don’t mind living in a 196 square foot house, my place generates enough money for me to live frugally without having to work at all. Times are good, I have a group of friends who like to play games and I love my salsa group twice a week. Coffee is always a highlight and my podcasts and TV. It is time for me to have some fun. Lighten up. Laugh. Enjoy the rewards of my hard work and responsible choices.
It’s hard to though. I’m so in this vigilant habit. I forget to have fun. Always thinking there is something I should be accomplishing, a fix it project, work another shift to make money for that thing. I just kicked and screamed my way into adulthood and now I forget how to go back.
Part of the problem is that even though I have the most freedom I’ve ever had in my life, I understand the consequences of all my choices. Red wine, may give me a headache. Getting a dog means not popping into the grocery store when he’s in the car on a hot summer day, hair on everything, dog shit in my yard. Even chickens will likely get slaughtered by raccoons eventually and dealing with that is just gross. I also know by now that life and circumstances are always in a state of flux. At some point , I very well may need to step up and help out with my, getting weirder by the day, mother. I suspect that won’t be all that much "fun”, so I better just enjoy this reprieve.
Do NOT slide unthinkingly into the caregiving thing as a default. Maybe discuss with your sister AND brother (everyone needs to step up) about how everyone contributes in the way that they can. If it’s not time, it’s money. Start looking into what is available from her state, county and city. Nothing could be more meager than what is available in Okanogan County. In Santa Barbara it must be much, much better.
I know you can’t anticipate what is ahead for your mother’s needs but use some of your dread time gaming out the possibilities and the best care for those circumstances. If you have even a tiny plan in place it will relieve the spinning wheel of doom.
Oh god, April, isn't there any way you can avoid becoming your mom's caregiver? Can you just go and give one-or-two-week breaks to your sister a few times a year? Or better yet, organize resources for her care so you're feeling useful but not having to be hands on very much? I really, REALLY don't recommend allowing yourself to slide into caregiving. I do love my mom and I've finally reached the point where I like living with her, even though I'm burned out beyond. But my god. She's gonna lives for YEARS more. And it's going to be very hard for me to live a full life of my own until she dies. Don't doooooo ittttttt.