I have always loved being a mother.

And for the many years I have found caring for my son it has given me some form of self worth.

A sense of ‘this is who I am, this is the thing I am great at, this is what I was meant to be.’

As the years have passed my son has reached adulthood – the care continues.

I have started to realize I no longer know who Jemma the person is.

I am simply nothing more than Jemma the caregiver.

The person that is here for the sole reason of looking after someone else.

I want to find Jemma the person but how?

I want my own life but I am a selfish mother for wanting this.

I want my freedom but I am a bad mother for wanting this.

I want a career but I am a terrible mother for wanting this.

I want a social life but I am a selfish mother for wanting this.

How do I find a way to live my own life without being overwhelmed with guilt?

How do I create a world that makes me feel so much more when my world is already so overrun?

How do I find Jemma when I have no time to look?

No energy to search.

And when paralyzed by guilt ridden anxiety.

Being so young when I had my son I found myself naively hoping that one day prince charming would arrive and save me from the monsters in my world.

Or perhaps a genie would appear to make some of my wishes come true.

Or maybe my fairy godmother would come and show me the way to living a life that has so much more.

I know now that fairy tales are not real, the only hero in our life is ourselves.

And in the words of dory I just keep swimming.

For now all I can say is, Jemma is still lost but I am hopeful that one day I will find her, and she will be everything I imagined she would be.