The first wave of lockdowns in March 2020 brought unforeseen challenges, shuttering daycares and drastically altering professional landscapes. For me, working at a bustling downtown Toronto hotel meant witnessing occupancy rates plummet from 100% to a mere 2% in a matter of weeks – a stark and unsettling experience. As my workplace faced unprecedented turmoil, my husband’s career in PPE sales experienced a surge, creating a clear path forward for our family. It became evident that focusing on family meant I would step away from my job to care for our son amidst the uncertainty. This unexpected six-month period at home mirrored the complexities of maternity leave, marked by the distress of witnessing the hospitality industry’s downturn, yet softened by the shared experience of widespread lockdowns.
During this period of professional pause, I decided to pursue studies in HR, a field far removed from my nearly two decades in hospitality. The instability of the hotel sector prompted a pragmatic need for a backup plan, leading me back to school after almost 20 years. By September, I was called back to work, suddenly navigating the demanding roles of a working mother and a part-time student. It was a demanding juggling act, but one I managed to balance.
However, life took another unexpected turn in November 2021 when my father was diagnosed with Guillain-Barré Syndrome, a severe autoimmune disorder. This illness led to his paralysis from the neck down, requiring a feeding tube and ventilator in the ICU, a stark contrast to his active life as a 70-year-old retiree who enjoyed traveling, yoga, and playing the trumpet.
With my mother also facing mobility challenges, my sisters and I coordinated daily hospital visits, ensuring one of us was there to support my father each day. Balancing work, studies, and these family responsibilities required taking time off, relying heavily on my husband, and sacrificing precious moments with my son.
After four months in the hospital, my father’s condition began to improve, albeit slowly. We recognized that his recovery would necessitate significant life changes, including selling the family home as he would no longer be able to manage it. My mother’s need for assistance with packing further increased my responsibilities. The exhaustion of commuting across the city, juggling textbooks on public transport, and managing numerous commitments became overwhelming. In January, recognizing the unsustainable strain, I made the difficult decision to resign from my job to truly focus on family.
It was a challenging choice, yet my husband offered unwavering support. Reflecting on my previous periods away from work – a year for maternity leave and six months during lockdowns – I felt confident in my ability to manage another period focused on family. I knew my days would be full and purposeful, dedicated to supporting my parents during this critical time.
In the weeks leading up to leaving my job, anxiety began to creep in. A valued friend and colleague reassured me, describing my path as “the road less traveled” and reminding me that “not all who wander are lost.” While I hadn’t considered myself a wanderer, her words resonated, offering comfort that perhaps my current path, though unconventional, was not without direction.
Two weeks into this new chapter, the reality of my decision has brought unexpected feelings. Loneliness is a significant one. During maternity leave, a network of fellow mothers provided camaraderie. The shared experience of lockdown also fostered a sense of community. However, stepping away from an 18-year career to care for a parent facing paralysis, manage the sale of a childhood home, continue part-time studies, parent my child, and process the emotional weight of a pandemic feels uniquely isolating.
The automated job alerts, initially set up to maintain a connection to my profession, now bring a surprising pang of sadness. These notifications highlight opportunities that, according to my parents, I should be pursuing. Yet, my commitment to my family is paramount and a source of pride and fulfillment. Despite this, the job alerts trigger a sense that the professional world is moving forward without me. I value work and the independence it provides, and I look forward to returning. However, I also acknowledge that my current emotional and mental bandwidth is dedicated to my family, precluding me from giving an employer the focus and dedication they deserve.
My father’s recovery continues, and progress is being made with packing up the family home. I understand this is a temporary phase, and I anticipate things will become easier with time, and I will re-enter the workforce. Until then, consider this narrative a reflection from someone navigating an uncharted path, choosing to focus on family amidst life’s unpredictable journey.
Stay safe, cherish your loved ones, and until we connect again in the future.
Rachel.
