My Purpose on Earth

At one time or another all of us ask the questions, “Why am I here?” or “What is my purpose?” And, there are workshops and books to help us find our way to our true purpose in life.

As a child, I knew my purpose for being here. It was obvious. I knew that if I wasn’t doing my job people wouldn’t be okay. I wouldn’t be okay. There was no question about this and no question about my purpose.

I have memories of my very early childhood, 3 or 4 years old, and the chores I would do for my mommy. I was little, but mighty. I could drag a full laundry basket from one room to another because she couldn’t carry it herself. I could climb up on chairs to put things away or get things down to save her precious energy. I could clean my room, pick up the house, feed the pets, dust and even do some vacuuming. I followed her directions and took care of her the best I could. This was my job. This was my purpose on earth.

My mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis right after my first birthday. She was 24 years old. Pregnancy and child birth exacerbated her symptoms and the doctors were finally able to provide a diagnosis. She had been weakening for years and her exhaustion and ‘clumsiness’ had progressively gotten worse in just a matter of months.

Multiple Sclerosis entered our lives with a vengeance. It frightened my parents and it frightened me. “What is going to happen next?” “Who is going to take care of me?” I was an only child and survival instinct told me I must do everything in my power to make my mom okay. My life depended on it. This may sound like an exaggeration, but as a tiny child it was a very real life or death situation. I had to do whatever I could to make her ok.

My dad was often angry. I see now that he was probably angry at the disease and fearful about losing my mom, but at the time all I could see was that he was angry at my mom and possibly angry at me. His alcoholism fueled his anger and fueled our fear. He couldn’t cope with what was happening as her symptoms worsened and he must have felt so helpless. When my dad was angry sometimes my mom would be scared or cry. I tried to make it better. After all, that was part of my job.

It was my job to take care of my mom but I was very small and often felt incapable of understanding and performing my very important duties. It was sometimes overwhelming to be helper and protector so I learned some creative skills. One of my skills was hyperventilating. When my dad would yell at my mom, I learned that if I breathed really hard until I would pass out or get sick they would stop. This worked until they spoke to a doctor who explained the remedy of having me breathe into a paper bag. I could still divert their attention but it didn’t have the same effectiveness to completely diffuse the situation.

One of my other primary duties related to my purpose on earth was to make people happy. If I was extra cute, a very good girl and always helpful, my mom may be happier and my dad might not be so angry. In my simple mind, this could save her. I worked hard to perfect this skill and spent a lot of energy pouring myself into making other people happy through good behavior, being extra helpful or being cute and funny.

When I was seven years old my mom made the difficult decision to leave my dad. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I felt tremendous fear and sadness. I didn’t want to leave my dad and I knew my job and purpose on earth was getting even bigger,

It was all up to me now. At least that’s how it felt at the time.

I didn’t know what I didn’t know and I couldn’t see what I couldn’t see. I was seven years old. My perspective was like a zoom lense only able to capture the small story right in front of me. I wasn’t able to fully witness the act of tremendous courage by my mother to take herself and me away from an unpredictable, abusive environment into a better life. I wasn’t able to see or understand the unfolding of my future ahead of me.

As I write this today, I wonder who I would have become had I been raised in my tiny hometown in that cute pink house with white trim on Richard Drive. What I do know is that I’ve lived a beautiful, full and often miraculous life. During the 30 years of caring for my mom and witnessing her journey, I developed intense and often overpowering gifts of empathy, intuition, acceptance, faith, resilience, responsibility, positivity and compassion.

Would I have developed these gifts had we never left that day? Maybe. I don’t know. As I look back, I see that all of this was part of my special journey on earth. Each experience brought me a little closer to my soul self and my other, perhaps most important, purpose on earth to just be Kelly. I’m working on figuring out how to be comfortable with simply being Kelly as a primary purpose. I am still much more comfortable caring for and focusing on somebody else.