My name is Aisha and I’m 17 years old.
People at college think I’m organised because I’m always on time with my coursework and never forget anything important. What they don’t see is that before I leave the house I’ve already made breakfast, checked Mum has taken her medication, helped her get ready and made sure she’s having a good day.
For years I just thought this was what daughters do.
Mum has a long-term health condition that means some days are much harder than others. Sometimes she’s full of energy and wants to walk to the park with me. Other days she struggles to get out of bed and needs help with the simplest things.
I learnt to cook when I was ten because I wanted to help. By thirteen I was organising appointments and translating complicated letters that arrived through the post. I worried all the time.
If my phone rang in class, my heart would race. If my friends invited me out after college, I’d usually say no because I wanted to get home quickly. The hardest part wasn’t the caring itself. It was feeling like nobody understood.
One day a tutor asked why I always looked tired. Instead of saying “I’m fine,” I burst into tears. That conversation changed everything. She introduced me to a young carers service who explained that what I was doing had a name, and that I wasn’t alone.
For the first time I met other young people who also worried about medication, hospital appointments and making sure there was enough food in the house. I realised it was okay to ask for help.
Now I still help Mum every day, but I also make time for myself. I meet friends, study for my exams and even joined a photography club.
Being a young carer is part of who I am, but it isn’t all that I am. And every hug Mum gives me reminds me that we look after each other.
