If you’re reading this and seeking “expert” advice, I’ll save you some time: I am no expert, far from it. I didn’t even realize I was parenting my mother until recently.

You see, my stepfather passed away in 2020, and during his last year, she was his primary caregiver. I was somewhat involved during that time, providing food, checking on them, and helping amidst the demands of work and my own life. However, given the circumstances of 2020, I wasn’t permitted inside their house; my interactions were limited to leaving groceries on the porch and brief moments with Mom outside to hear about her day.

After his passing, Mom discarded all the COVID-19 restrictions, and I could finally step inside. What I found was disheartening – the house had deteriorated alongside her health. Often, after work, I’d pick up dinner and spend hours sitting with her. Some weekends were dedicated to restoring the house and yard, but the sheer size of three acres and 3,500 square feet, coupled with the state it was in, we were not making a dent.

After about six months of this, I was utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. I recognized that I couldn’t continue this alone while managing my small business. Together, we made the challenging decision to sell her place, terminate my lease, and move to Texas, 500 miles away. Some of our motivations overlapped; for me, it meant being closer to my daughter, my new grandson, and my son, among other reasons. For her, it meant proximity to my brother, her son, and additional family members who could provide support.

We opted to purchase a house together, envisioning a future where I could be there as her needs grew with age. We discussed the adventures we would embark upon, and the travel plans we had in mind. I intended to maintain my business remotely and stay connected to the office through Zoom. Our expectations were substantial.

I’m not entirely certain where our first misstep occurred, perhaps it was the move itself, but I believe it began with our high expectations.

Nearly three years have passed since the move, and to be candid, it’s been an incredibly challenging period. It wasn’t until this past year that I realized I had become her caregiver, and she struggled to accept this change. The journey has been marked by significant ups and downs, and though there have been many positive moments, they often get overshadowed by the challenges.

So, once again, if you’re seeking an expert, I am not that person. This is merely my story from my perspective. I’m certain my mother could recount a similar tale, but it would differ significantly because our perspectives are not the same. Neither version of our story would be incorrect.