The other day, I took my younger son to his pediatrician for what I thought was a follow-up from his 14-year check-up. It wasn’t until the nurse and doctor mentioned it that I realized I had completely missed scheduling his 14-month check-up.

I laughed it off at first, but the truth is, it bothered me.

I have always prided myself on remembering everything. When to schedule the appointment. When to pick up the medication. What forms need to be completed. What needs to be advocated for. What question needs to be asked. Which phone call needs to be made.

There is an endless list when you are raising and supporting a child with disabilities. And for a long time, I carried those lists almost automatically.

But lately, things have started falling off my radar.

I forget things. I miss things. I look at my calendar and realize there was something I was supposed to remember, something I was supposed to do, someone I was supposed to call.

Getting older? Probably.

But I think it is more than that.

This year, in particular, I have realized just how much the weight of it all has accumulated. The lists. The reminders. The appointments. The responsibilities. The advocacy. The decisions. The constant feeling that if I don’t stay on top of everything, something important might fall through the cracks.

At some point, I stopped looking at life in days or weeks and started managing it in minutes.

Just get through this meeting.
Just make this phone call.
Just get everyone where they need to be.
Just make it to bedtime.

And then do it all again tomorrow.

But even the strongest people have limits. Even those accustomed to carrying everything eventually have to put something down.

Maybe forgetting an appointment isn’t a sign that I’m failing.

Maybe it is a sign that I have been carrying too much for too long.

I have realized that I need to prioritize my own well-being. My own mental state. Not someday. Not when everything on the list is finished, because that list will never truly be finished.

That might mean a little less work. It might mean being more selective about what I advocate for and recognizing that I cannot fight every battle.

It might mean getting a manicure or pedicure simply because it feels good.

It might mean hopping on a plane to visit a friend and trusting that my better half will hold things down while I’m gone. Maybe not exactly the way I would do it. Maybe not perfectly.

But good enough.

And maybe “good enough” is something I need to learn to accept more often.

Because there will always be another appointment. Another form. Another phone call. Another decision. Another storm.

But storms don’t last forever.

Every storm runs out of rain.

I don’t know exactly what the next season will look like. I know there will still be hard days, unexpected challenges, and moments when I feel like I’m managing life one minute at a time.

There will be moments when I remember that I am more than the lists I keep, the appointments I schedule, the battles I fight, and the responsibilities I carry.

I am a person who deserves care, too.

So maybe this season isn’t about becoming better at carrying everything.

Maybe it’s about learning what I can put down.

Maybe it’s about allowing someone else to carry something for a while and being ok with that.

Maybe it is about expecting that I can no longer to it all and shouldn’t expect myself to hold that burden any longer.