I saw this quote by John C. Maxwell, an American author, speaker, and pastor, while on vacation recently. I can’t seem to let it go. Everywhere I look now, I see examples.

Life has a funny way of shifting. One moment, we are simply living our life, the next, a change, sometimes subtle, occurs. We may not even see it, at first. Enough of these shifts happen and our life’s path is forever altered, often without our direct knowledge or permission. It can happen before we are fully conscious of its existence.

We know that the longer we live, the more our abilities change. Our bodies and minds develop and become stronger as we round the corner from childhood to adulthood. While logic and science tell us the loss of functionality can happen at any age, we expect it as we cross from our middle years to our senior years. Yet, disease and injury enter at any point along our path. If we are blessed with a long life, atrophy is going to happen. Loss of physical functionality and a keen mind are simply a matter of time. It is a biological certainty. Our bodies show their wear.

We seem to be able to accept our frailties in the face of disease, injury, or aging. But, when we witness these changes in those we love, a veil of denial can drop before our eyes. As time goes on and their deficiencies loom larger, the loss of our clear vision drops away. Our eyes open to reality. It is forever present and obvious. But, even then, we can pretend it doesn’t exist. We don’t want our loved ones to be infirmed, and therefore write a new script to accompany the changes that all can see.

Our roles with our person evolve. One morning, we wake to the knowledge that their life cannot be best lived without our help. Change is inevitable.

Becoming a caregiver for a loved one has a unique set of challenges. Like many others in similar situations, I’ve accepted this role, but never wanted it. I’m thankful I can carry out what needs to be done. But I certainly don’t relish the opportunity to do it. Growth is optional.

Responsibility and duty are important to me. Duty can be defined as something that is required of a us. It is something we must do whether we want to or not. Responsibility, on the other hand, can be described as something we take on voluntarily. We choose to do it because we believe it is the right thing to do.

Equally important to me is my ability to live my own life. I guard this with all the power and energy I can muster. I don’t consider it selfish. I’ve worked hard to get where I am in life and to be able to do what I choose. I believe balance can be had. But as others know, I could not do what I do alone.

I am fortunate to have a beautiful, loving family and friends who support me in every way possible. I am not alone. Yet, the trail I leave shows only a solitary set of footsteps — the journey is mine alone. Much like the cancer journey, the weight of this journey is shared by many, but unique to each. Support is available (and necessary), but the efforts come from within.

I didn’t seek change, but when it presented itself, I stood and faced it. Love and compassion lead the way. But anger and despair are often present. I choose to look straight at those destructive feelings to find out their true cause. I then keep moving through the wall of pain and into a kinder, more loving person.

What will you take away from your experience? How we progress through challenging times and moments of change tells a lot about who we are at our core. It can illustrate areas in our lives where a bit of work might be helpful or advisable. Take some time to process this for yourself. It is important to spend time learning from our experiences. We can gain a sense of balance when we take time to learn from life’s situations, including those most difficult. Failing to grow is a choice. Please, choose to grow.

Lesslee Dort is a board-certified patient advocate who firmly believes knowledge is power when it comes to being in control of one’s health. She spends her days at Friends Together helping others navigate their health care. Reach Lesslee via email at lesslee@friendstogethermi.org. Read her here the third Thursday of each month.