Lost and Found

Trying to get traction after my mom’s death has proven to be difficult. As one of her primary caregivers for the last several years, it has been very strange to suddenly find myself with little responsibility. I basically went from taking care of kids to taking care of my mom. Now, I am a childless mother AND a motherless child.

Where do you go when everything you did every single day evaporates? Who am I now?

I know they say to give yourself at least a year after a major loss before you make any changes in your life, but I don’t know that just sitting here navel gazing is the best way to grieve. I feel like a chained rat trying to gnaw off my own tail. I am anxious to get moving, but also depressed. I’m convinced that my life will never have another purpose, that I will be forever destined to log miles, do laundry, and wait for the next good series on HBO Max. As they say, I’m much too young to feel this damn old. And I want to not feel like this.

I spent the last couple of years while taking care of my mother planning races, trips, and goals that would never come to fruition – goals that I had already postponed to raise my kids. Now, when I have all the time in the world, I lack the desire to do go after any of them. A cookbook? Why? There are a million cookbooks written by chefs much more talented than me. Race? My knee is done, basically bone on bone. I can slog out my daily mileage goal, but without major surgery, my racing days are over. Start a restaurant? That seems like a commitment too far.

So I sit. And I move. And then I sit some more. I try not to drown my sorrows in cake and champagne. I know how easy it is to believe that stuffing yourself is the same thing as dealing with yourself. Been there, done that.

And I know in time I will once again see the path I’m supposed to follow. I’m too old to just hurtle head first down every open road in front of me, but I’m too young to just park myself on the side of the road forever. Right now, I’m just trying to see this as a temporary, albeit sad, pause at one of life’s bus stops. Eventually, I hope, the right bus will come along and I will be on my way again, looking forward to new sights, sounds, tastes, and adventures. But for now, maybe I will just take a long hot bath and read a good book.