I guess I was the one that forgot

There are so many thoughts going through my head. Scenarios that don't really exist. No, they don't exist at all. I keep thinking of all these things that could have been. All the things that I've been hiding behind my work. Telling myself that I don't have time to stop and to think about any of it because I'm going to do something bigger. But

I guess I was the that forgot.

In one of my scenarios, I'm back at my interview at the Alzheimer's Association and they're asking me why I've been at my previous jobs for short periods of time. My answer, well I kept transitioning. I moved, I went to school, I got burnt out, I found the population I wanted, I went back to school, I started teaching. All valid reasons. I should have said that but I should have said.

But

In reality, I've gone full circle. I started this journey with a diagnosis of Alzheimer's disease. I started with questions that no one could answer. I started feeling like no one understood me. I started thinking, I wasn't alone in feeling this way. That my journey brought me to that very office because of something that happened to me when I was 12. Almost 18 years ago I ended up in an office because of ONE thing that happened in my life. I became obsessed. I wanted to figure it out. I wanted to help. I genuinely want to help.

But

I guess I was the one that forgot.

I forgot that I wanted to do all this because I love my family. I love my lolo. I love my lola--my mom, dad, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, titas, titos, cousins. I love all of them. I wanted to figure this out for all of them. I wanted to know why lolo would forget. I wanted to know so I could understand that feeling you get when your heart actually breaks. In that non-dramatic sense. The actual heartbreak when you truly love someone and nothing in the entire world can save them.

But

I guess I was the one that forgot.

That was my initial mission. I became so obsessed with trying to figure out the puzzle I strayed from the core. I wanted to help others. I started to see the pain in other's problems and I wanted to solve it. That's not a bad thing--until you find yourself across the country and the person second to the one that you loved and died is about to die and they're dying. The discombobulation so apparent in my writing as my muscles move and touch these keys. As I realize I lost touch with my main goal. As I realize I can't figure this out. I knew that a long time ago and I still tried. At what expense? I became so busy I forgot that I was supposed to be home with them to help them trying to figure this out.

But

I guess I was the one that forgot.

That I was doing this for him. For her. For them. They would never be this harsh on me about this. They would be proud. They would understand. They would tell me that this is exactly what I was supposed to do. But they tell you that because they love you selflessly and you listen because you don't hear the pining in their voice. The fear of letting you go to go and to grow. I was too young to hear it then.

But.

Now it's too late.

I wish I could have told myself that there was so much more time left for myself that I could wait. I didn't have to rush. I didn't have to do what I had to do in the timeframe I gave myself. That their time was much more limited than mine was. To calm my anxious feet. To tell myself there's nothing wrong with waiting.

But

I guess I was the one that forgot.