Date: April 28, 2025
Author: Emily Turner
I don’t even know where to start. I feel like I’m drowning. My mom—my wonderful, beautiful mom—is very sick. Watching her deteriorate has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to face. And then there’s my dad. He hasn’t worked in over 20 years, and his only real “activity” now is drinking. He doesn’t seem to care about anything, not even himself. All the responsibilities, all the bills, everything that needs to be done, it falls on me.
I’m the oldest child, so it’s my job to take care of everything. And I do. I make sure my mom gets to her appointments, I make sure there’s food on the table, I make sure my younger siblings are okay, and I make sure everything runs as smoothly as possible—even though deep down, I feel like I’m the one who’s falling apart.
We used to be dirt poor, scraping by just to make it through each month. But somehow, we made it work. And now, we’ve got this small semblance of stability, but it’s still so fragile. And it’s all on me. I’ve sacrificed my own life, my own happiness, just to make sure everyone else can keep going.
My job, the one that’s supposed to support us, is draining me. Every day, I come home exhausted, emotionally empty. I want to quit, I want to walk away from it all, but I can’t. I can’t abandon my family. If I leave, everything will fall apart. So, I stay. And every single day feels like I’m carrying a little more weight on my shoulders than the day before.
I can’t even remember the last time I had a moment to myself. All the things I used to enjoy—the hobbies that made me feel like me—are distant memories now. I haven’t had the time or energy to engage in anything I love. There’s no room for me in my own life anymore. Everything revolves around everyone else’s needs, and I’m just… here.
The emotional, physical, and financial labor I do for my younger siblings—who are way too young to understand any of this—only adds to the weight. They look to me for everything, and I can’t let them down. But I’m so tired.
I feel like I’ve lost who I am in the process of taking care of everyone else. There’s no space for me, no room to breathe, and no one to talk to about it. I can’t burden anyone with this, because who would understand? How could they? It’s not like anyone else can help.
I don’t want to disappear, but some days, it feels like the only way to escape this constant pressure. The pressure to be perfect, to be everything for everyone. But I keep going because I have no choice. It’s my responsibility. And I just keep pushing through, one day at a time, hoping that someday I’ll find a way to feel like myself again.
I just needed to get this out. Maybe writing it down will help me understand it all better. I don’t even know anymore.
