Thank you, Mom

There’s been a string of events that has led me to write this post. No it’s not very humorous, light or uplifting. It’s not about one night stands or glamorous New York City night adventures. However, the few parts of our lives that keep us grounded and somber still matter. So this post still matters.

At least to me.

We’re on the subject of mothers. Hell, this blog is loosely based on the shenanigans that may be deemed inappropriate by our mothers so I feel as if we’re always on the subject of mothers. Bare with me.

Someone very important to me lost her mother recently. Simply as an outsider, not knowing how it truly feels, I find it tragic and confusing and a painstakingly devastating experience. During the last few days, it’s been weighing on my mind. So much so that I woke up the other morning at 7am and couldn’t shake this feeling of almost guilt that I have taken so much in my life for granted. Including my relationship with my mother. During my restlessness, coincidentally (or pure kismet) I read another woman’s blog post about her own experience losing her mother, specifically from depression and alcohol abuse. This blog was unapologetically honest about the struggle between anger and resentment this woman felt for her mother, while alive and after her death. I was struck with awe and admiration that she (the author) was humble enough to recognize (and publicly) highlight these unflattering, however humanly honest emotions about her mother. (Read the story here). We should all be so brave.

To lose one’s parent must be of the most difficult parts of getting older. Fortunately, I haven’t experienced this. Yet. But I can honestly say I almost did. There was once a time in my life where the possibility of losing my mother was high and by the grace of God or some higher power in the universe, I was spared this heartache.

Many people do not know that my mother is a recovering alcoholic/drug addict. She also has battled depression for the majority of her life. A solid portion of my childhood is littered with memories of her constant struggle between the two.

When I was a freshman in college, I was asked to revisit an experience in my life that shaped my being completely. An experience few knew about and something I was “Burning to Tell”. (That was the name of the assignment). I wrote about my mother. The piece may be found here.

Burning to tell

Now please, DO NOT confuse this confession for complaints or attention seeking self-pity. I have made my peace with my mother and the emotions I have concerning my upbringing. I have forgiven her for whatever mishandling and mistakes she may have made during my life and she has remained sober for over 8 years. I only revisit this topic because of a few reasons. One, the previously mentioned event that has led me to reflect on my own relationship with my mother. Two, because I find it ever so important to continue to challenge your emotional strength and reevaluate your thoughts, beliefs and convictions as you get older (in this regard, my feelings towards my mother). Lastly, the third point, because without my mother’s struggle and victory over so much the last decade and the conscious effort we both have put in to repair and maintain the relationship we presently possess, I wouldn’t feel confident in divulging my words to the (cyber)world. Because of the unrelenting support and unconditional love I know I have from her, I am confident in the fact that regardless of the really stupid and irresponsible things I may do (or have done), I have her respect, not only as a person but also as woman.

Go hug/call/text the woman who gave you life because not everyone is able to. We should all feel lucky.

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