Tag: petsitting

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The Meaning of Life

#2 in a Series on Purpose

Purpose: the essential ingredient for a meaningful life. For years, it’s seemed out of reach.

In a sales career spanning a quarter-century, my purpose was straightforward yet unfulfilling: make your numbers, get your bonus. My wallet was full but I struggled with an empty soul.

Life changed radically when I left that job to become my mother’s full-time caregiver five years ago. I spent much of that time wallowing in martyrdom and resentment, my purpose unfathomable.

But purpose, like life, evolves with clarity. And as I’ve learned in sobriety, helping others is a reward in itself. So I launch a support group for daughters caring for aging parents. Channel a long-time passion for writing into a flash blog and caregiving articles. Transform my love of animals into enrichment programs at a local shelter and a petsitting business. And continue to support my husband as he deals with the sudden loss of his only child.

Age grants us wrinkles and wisdom and this I now know: purpose is found when you least seek it.

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Gone Girl

I’ve left mom alone for ten days for a petsitting job, and I’m as nervous as she was when she dropped me at summer camp, age eleven.

She’s not alone, really. The caregivers in her memory care home look out for her 24/7. The care director texts photos of her at cooking club; playing the harmonica; modeling new hats. I should enjoy this time away.

It’s hard, though, after spending four years with someone who panics when I’m not there every day. Parenting roles are reversed in our demented lives and each time I leave, it’s as if she were a child again, scared her mother won’t come back. Even after the hundreds of times I’ve left and returned, all she knows is that in that moment, I am gone.

Eventually, worry lifts; fear subsides and I learn to trust the process.

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Spousal Support

I’ve been immersed in caring for my mother for the past four years, and with her recent move across country to a memory care home five minutes from my house, life  slowly comes back into focus. She’s safely nestled in her new place, and this brings me the peace to move forward.

I write daily now and bond with my dogs on morning runs. My schedule’s filled with volunteering and petsitting, trail runs and lunches with girlfriends.

And in the frenzy of resuscitating my life, I overlooked the most important relationship of all: my marriage.

“Hearing about your mother stresses me out,” he admitted last night, as I told him about my latest visit. “None of this has been easy for me.”

Hearing him vocalize his feelings, as rare as rain in our desert digs, hit me with the impact of a summer monsoon. He’s a no-nonsense, bottom-line guy, the kind who solves a problem and immediately moves on. The raw emotion in his voice was a wake-up call.

The mother-daughter bond is stronger than it’s ever been, and my marriage is solid. But some reassembly is required. So we’re planning a long-needed summer vacation. Booking movie dates and going out to dinner.

He was there for me in my early sobriety. He was there for me when I quit my job and moved to Maine with my mom. Now, it’s time for me to be there for him.