Anyone else ever feel like they’re living inside a cheap washing machine set to PERMA-PRESS? Like, everything just spins and spins and you’re perpetually damp, never quite dry enough to actually *be* somewhere else. That’s been me lately. The kids are teenagers, which is its own special kind of chaos, and the bills just… they don't stop. Ever. My main gig barely covers the mortgage and whatever unexpected broken thing pops up, so yeah, two jobs it is. Always. The thing is, my mom. She’s… older now. Not frail, not exactly, but definitely needs more looking after than she lets on. And I love her, obvs. But trying to juggle her appointments, her meds, making sure she eats something other than crackers and tea while also trying to keep my own head above water and keep two sullen teens fed and clothed and not failing out of school… it's a LOT. It’s like trying to hold a handful of sand and every grain is a commitment, a responsibility, and some just keep slipping through. So, the decision was made. Not really *made*, more like it just… happened. Like a slow-moving landslide. The daycare. Not for kids, obvs, but for seniors. They call it a 'day program' or some such fancy word, but it's daycare. For adults. And she hates it. She says it’s for people who can’t take care of themselves, and she CAN. She *can*. But then I find her in her apartment, again, forgetting if she ate, or leaving the stove on, and my stomach just drops. So I drop her off. Twice a week. The first time… God. It felt like a punch to the gut, but like, a really dull one. Like when you’re numb from a bad flu and someone hits you, and you know it should hurt but it just feels… distant. She stood there, holding her little bag with her sweater and a book, looking so small. And I just… drove away. Because I HAD to. I had a double shift and if I didn’t go, the rent wouldn’t get paid. And I didn't cry. I didn't even feel like crying. Just this sort of flat, gray emptiness. Like I’d made the wrong choice but there wasn't a right one to make. Is that normal? To feel so… nothing? Like I should be WEEPING, right? Or at least feeling some kind of crushing guilt. But it’s just this dull ache, like an old injury that flares up when the weather changes. And then I go to work and forget about it until the next drop-off, or until I call her later and she sounds… quiet. Like she’s judging me, even though she’d never say it out loud. Just a quiet sigh over the phone. Anyone else live this, where you feel like you’re constantly failing someone, but if you didn't, you’d fail everyone else? Or yourself?