The Fault In My Choices

I have taken on a lot in the last year plus some. It is what I feel is my daughterly duty, my due diligence. I've made decisions that I and my husband have felt is reasonable to all parties involved, taking great care in considering feelings, health, and emotions with all those we live with and have relationships with.  Yesterday I sat, feeling despair, a lack of motivation, hopelessness, fear, anger, defeat, depression, fatigue, thinking that I just needed to give myself a day of rest. Sit and read and let the day roll on while the rest of my family buzzed around with their daily activities. Surely tomorrow will present itself better. I will be well-rested with this day just for myself. I will rise early, exercise, eat right, feel rejuvenated, go into work and do the task I've been putting off because I loathe it so much. Heck, I will even clean my scuzzy bathroom that I literally haven't cleaned in over a month. Okay, let's be honest...over two months. After that I...

I always knew I wasn't her favorite. I don't share the same interests, I don't like the same books or movies as her. Every time she would want to talk about any such interest, I would feign interest, give her my polite face, smile and nod when needed. Every once in a while she would confront me; ask me if I had any interest in the same things as her. I would truthfully tell her that even though I did enjoy reading books, I didn't revel in the historical facts of the Native Americans, who settled what land, or even which group of pioneers did what. The latter was most shocking to her, for if you were a true Latter Day Saint, you MUST have interest in the history of the church. My mother came to live with us in March of 2019. She had lived in Taylorsville, UT, most of her married life and after before I snatched her away from her lonely bliss. She was very sick. Two Novembers previous she endured a Pulmonary Embolism which left her only enough energy and breath to sit in...