Medicate, Masturbate and Meditate…?

Today, the quiet settled in a little more deeply than it usually does. Alone in the house, with no sounds of life echoing through the walls, I realized how heavy the silence can feel. My husband is away, caring for his parents, and my boys, now grown into men, are wrapped up in their own lives. A handful of friends are out there somewhere, but right now, none close enough to reach out to. And me? I am here, feeling something I’ve rarely let myself acknowledge: I am lonely.

I never thought it would feel like this, to be alone. I spent so many years caring for others, busy with the tasks that came with being a mother, a wife, a daughter. Every moment was spoken for, every minute filled with purpose. But now, those roles that once defined me seem to have faded into the background, leaving behind a quiet space I don’t quite know how to fill. I have no pressing duties, no hobbies that call to me. There’s nowhere I feel compelled to go, and doing it alone? That feels even more daunting.

As I sit here, I can’t help but wonder, what does the future hold if I remain as I am today? What will it look like in a year, five years, or ten? If I don’t find something to fill this void, if I don’t connect with people or find a passion that stirs my soul, will this loneliness be all that’s left? It’s not just about finding company or filling time. It’s about purpose. What will happen if I don’t rediscover who I am beyond the role of caregiver?

Today, it struck me—maybe for the first time in my life—that I’ve always been someone who takes care of others. It’s what I know, what I’ve always done, and in many ways, it’s what I thought made me who I am. But now that no one needs me the way they once did, I’m left with this startling realization: I feel empty. And that emptiness is terrifying. I had poured so much of myself into caring for everyone else that I never really stopped to think about what was left when the caregiving stopped.

But here’s the thing: today, as hard as it is, I know it’s time to dig deeper. I know I need to search my heart and soul for the other things that make me, me. Maybe being a caregiver was a huge part of my life, but it can’t be all that I am. There must be other pieces of me waiting to be discovered, things I’ve buried beneath the weight of everyone else’s needs. It’s time to find those pieces, to nurture them, to start being those things.

This moment is hard. There’s no denying that. But maybe it’s also a moment of possibility—a blank page in a life that’s been so full of stories centered on others. Maybe now it’s time for my story. Time to explore, to feel, to connect with what I’ve ignored for so long. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know this: I can’t let it pass me by. I can’t let this loneliness define me.

Today, I begin the journey of rediscovering myself. It won’t happen all at once, and it won’t be easy, but for the first time, I’m realizing that I deserve to care for myself just as much as I cared for everyone else. I am more than the roles I’ve played.  The future has to hold more than medicate, masturbate, and meditate. …I just need to figure out who that “more” is.

These are my thoughts. You may have all of them, some of them, or none of them.