I turned 57 this week and while I had lovely run and lunch with friends to celebrate, this was a landmark birthday and my situation has really hit home.
You see my youngest turned 18 in April so legally my parenting responsibilities ended there.
Obviously I accepted a long time ago that I would be caring for my disabled daughter B for life.
But my youngest does not have an intellectual disability so I absolutely assumed that providing full time care for him would end this year.
There is no time scale on when it might and I just feel my life is really over now.
It’s not as though I’m any good at parenting him, the best I can say is that I’ve kept him alive. It’s not much of an achievement.
Why am I telling you this?
Because I don’t think I can manage a cheerful post this week, and anything I have half heartedly drafted is too angry for publication, so there will probably be fewer posts on here until I can get my head around things.
Thanks for reading.