My name is Amy and I am fifteen years old. I’m sat on the floor in my room trying to revise for my exams which are next week. Suddenly I hear my mum calling from the bathroom. I wiggle open the old lock on the door and find her sat on the floor feeling a bit unwell and a little upset. I think quickly about what would make me feel better in her situation and soon have her sat watching her favourite film with a hot chocolate and a snack. Before I know it, I am back on the floor of my bedroom with my notes surrounding me. I may have only been caring for my mum for ten minutes, but I will be worrying about her for the rest of the day.
I didn’t realise I was a young carer until I was nineteen. I thought you needed to do a certain number of hours of work to qualify as a carer but now I realise that I was caring all the time even when I wasn’t doing something practical.