Took a nap today, woke up crying. In the dream my mom had died, I planned her memorial and no one came. I had her ashes sitting on the bar and everyone (random people I didn’t know) kept telling me it was no big deal. I kept screaming at people to shut up and leave me alone because it was a big deal, it was a huge freaking deal. I had let her down. Just like I’d done in real life.
Almost perfect blood pressure 119/80!
Mirtazapine was the weight gainer… we’re moving forward finally.
I may need to increase my other med for the Fibromyalgia or eventually see a specialist.
I may also need to get a endometrial ablation.
This is just the beginning!
So, today is the day my son graduates. We’ve been on this “journey” together since 2nd grade. Nine years after we started doing school at home and we’ve reached the pinnacle of graduation. It is pretty amazing to me that we actually made it. There were many many days that I couldn’t imagine we’d last 9 years. There were plenty of days filled with fighting, yelling and crying (he’d yell, I’d cry) but the last two years he’s really pulled through and held up his end.
The last year of my mom’s life was tough on all of us. She needed me more and was sick or in the hospital more often. After she died, he was such a supportive dude. I can’t even estimate the number of nights I couldn’t sleep and he’d keep me company. He really grew up in the last year. I know deep in his heart he wishes she could have been here to see this day, but he also knows she was tired of fighting to breathe. She would have made him feel special and uncomfortable all in one. I know I will miss her more today than I should and I do worry I might ugly cry but I will brave through it to support my son and help him fight his fears and uncertainty of the day. And his future.
Next brave step for him, drivers license!
It is 1:45 am.
He’s in the kitchen making all kinds of food.
“Would you like a couple pieces of bacon and a piece of toast?”
No…. it’s almost 2am.
” Ok ok…. geeze.”
A couple minutes later, comes into my room. “Would you like just Onnnneee Bite, because itsss sooooo gooood.”
“its just ONE bite!”
Oh, ok. Cause that one bite won’t make me want more. Why do you just go offer someone a tiny taste of cocaine.
4:15 – My son and I are still up, just hanging out. Laying in my bed both of us on our tablets. I get up to make a piece of toast because I’m hungry…. out stumbles my husband,
“Oh you couldn’t take one bite of my food but you can eat now.”
It’s toast, leave me alone. I return to my room and shut the door.
This is exactly why we hide the things we hide because this jerk has to make an issue. It had briefly crossed my mind to give the toast to my son so I wouldn’t have to hear his comments and my son said he actually thought about taking the toast so we wouldn’t hear the comments but in the end we chose to not hide and we got the damn comments.
Don’t I have a right as a human being to finish a freaking sentence? Are my words so unimportant that I shouldn’t get to say them? Do I mean so little that I have nothing worth listening to?
I drove by my mom’s after therapy today… I hadn’t planned on it. The route so familiar the car seemed to glide on its own, around the corner, left turn onto the back road and then turned right into her neighborhood. Her house looked exactly the same. The flower pots we didn’t take, sitting in the same place… the iris were overly tall. Mom would have cut them down by now… her purplish/pink trailer looked just like she’d left it. Her neighbors still living in their homes, lives unchanged… If only I could have stopped in and seen my mom.
This evening, I found my old blog and started looking at old entries. It was just like I told Melanie, the same shit I deal with now, I dealt with over 14 years ago. When I last wrote it was right after my mom’s mom had died and then shortly after that my mom’s companion died… such a sad time. It was just a year later mom would come to live in Idaho to be close to me and my kids. Memory lane such a twisted path… I don’t want to forget but I don’t want to remember. Sometimes I still just can’t or maybe don’t want to believe I’ll never see my mom again. Not in this life… how can I go on without out her?
My mom and I were best friends, partners in crime, gigglers and she loved me like no one else has ever or will ever love me.