I Read This And It Gave Me Feelings

Do you ever read things and react REALLY strongly to them? I do. All the damn time. I made the mistake the other day of reading a dating blog written by a guy who lives in my home city. Imagine my disappointment to find out the author wasn't this interesting or insightful man, but rather a narcissistic, popped-collar loving, didn't-get-over-parents-divorce, alcoholic date rapist. And apparently it's a super popular blog. Jigga what?

I've been sitting here stewing over Dvora Meyers' article on Slate "My Mom Was Too Old" for nearly an hour now. It makes me wish I could sit down and have coffee with Dvora. Mostly because I think it would be good for us both, but also because Dunkin Donuts gave me somebody else's coffee this morning when I straight up ordered tea. Sigh. Anyway, the article made me think and feel a lot of things, and I commented (under yet another one of my non-clever pseudonyms) publicly, but spent so much time editing and re-editing my response that I've come to realize I had FAR too much to say about the article for a mere comment. So I'm going to walk through it, and let some shit out.

(I will put the excerpts from Ms. Meyers in italics to make it easier to distinguish. Just to start off the article, her mother gave birth to her at 42 years old.)

I always imagined myself in my late 30s, married with a family. I saw my mother as an attentive grandmother. But then it happened before I was ready.
I get this is a pretty standard vision for "life in your 30s" BUT I don't think your mother's age/depression derailed it. Also, no one is ever "ready" for the mortal decline of parents.

I was 27 at the time.
26. I feel you.

I was happy that the parents were able to experience the joy of parenthood but also upset that the writer (of a NY Times article on older parents) did not pay quite enough attention to how this phenomenon might affect the children.  But that doesn’t cover what those years before their deaths might be like, what it will be like for those twentysomething children to care for aging parents (or at the very least, manage their affairs) while trying to establish their own careers, relationships, and families.
Sure. It can be super hard. But do we love our parents any less? I sure as hell don't. In fact, I'm even MORE proud of my mother for having me later in life. Her devotion to both her career and family utterly inspires me. And the fact is, she's still in very good health. A parent can die at any time, I'm sad to say. You can have a kid at 25 and still get sick. I don't think "shaming" older parents into thinking they'll fuck up their kids lives in their 20s accomplishes a goddamn thing.

Here is what it was like for me: At the start of my mother’s aging issues, I was still trying to make it as a writer, working as many gigs as I could cram into the day, never quite sure where my next paycheck would come from. It had been years since I had found myself in anything resembling a relationship.

I hear you again. Same same for me. BUT it's not my dad's fault I couldn't figure out a better career path, or to stop dating emotionally unavailable alcoholics. That one's all me. And honestly? Dad's illness made me grow up. I hated it. Would I have liked a little more leeway to get shit together on my own clock? Of course. It was a nightmare. But it was time.

“You have to move in with your mother and take care of her,” my aunt informed me.

“What happened?”

“She takes too many medications and walks around like a zombie,” my aunt exclaimed. “I don’t know what to do,” she cried out, exasperated.

“I don’t know what to do either,” I said, trying to remain hushed on the packed holiday express.

“You have to move in with her,” she repeated as though I hadn’t heard her the first time.

“Why me? What about Lisa?” I asked my aunt, referring to my sister.

“She’s married and has kids. “You have to do it,” she said firmly. For her, it was non-negotiable.

“But I’m still in my 20s,” I choked out.

Your aunt fucking SUCKS. What the fuck? That is MESSED UP. Anybody who abandons their own sibling in the time of need and sloughs complete responsibility off onto their child is a righteous sonofabitch who deserves to be lobotomized with a rusty hoe. BOOM. Said it. Meant it.

Also, having kids is not some get-out-of-parents free card. Kids require a lot of their own care, I understand. But it doesn't mean you get to wash your hands of any other complex situation that might come your way.

But how do you avoid this fate? As I near my 30^th birthday, still single and working as a freelance writer, I feel guilty for my personal and professional choices. I haven’t exactly created a life that is conducive to caretaking. Maybe I should’ve sat for the LSATs I registered for after college instead of moving cross-country on a whim. Perhaps I should’ve followed through on one of the thousand times I asserted that I would get a real job. Maybe I should’ve kept dating that guy who worked in finance. I’ve passed up hundreds of opportunities to settle down in some capacity. Which maybe puts me on the same path my mother followed, having a child in my 40s, hoping to make it, God willing, to their college graduation, with or without walker.

 Don't beat yourself up and don't be all like "oh my fate" etc. It gets you nowhere. Life has dealt you an extremely rough hand. Life will be forever different. But you can't get a new hand (it isn't five-card stud) AND you made your own life choices before the tragedy too, you know? Time to live with them. All I can tell you Ms. Meyers, being a few months older than you are (and filled with wisdom like a donut is filled with jelly) is that you just have to keep going. Don't let this tragedy define your life, because you will be tempted to let it. It's too easy. Don't let it be why you can't find love, or why you didn't accomplish thus-and-so. Because then you'll just be bitter, and angry. There are a lot of answers. You need good doctors, and probably a lawyer who specializes in end-of-life paperwork. They are great resources. Every now and again I doodle a small life preserver as a reminder that no one is going to save me. I need to be strong, to keep myself and my world afloat. This means growing up and accepting that I have to learn and live with some really unpleasant and tough scenarios. And you know what? I hope you have kids in your 40s. I hope you are to them what my own mother is to me - my greatest joy and inspiration. People die. I really do think it's the time we have together - even and often the hardest times - that matter.