I’ve been phoning it in the last few days.
My participation in the debachle that is my mother’s situation. I’ve kept myself away from it more than before. My general doctor tells me that there are signs of my heart enlarging; and while typically having the proverbial big heart is good… the literal big heart is a hazard to my life. He said I MUST reduce stress inducing situations in my life. There’s no compromise. I was taking it with a grain of salt until my brother told me, “Mom said the same thing happened to her when she was your age”.
For the very first time in my life, I find myself trying to run in the opposing direction. I was interviewing young ladies for our chapter’s scholarships a couple of saturdays ago, and throughout, we’d ask them someone who inspired them. Someone who they idolized. Who was that one person who gave them unlimited hope. And resounding, confident response after another they exclaimed “My mother”. My heart sank each time. Because I remember being them. I remember thinking … there could be no one stronger, no one more giving, no one more sensible, more loving, more caring and more sincere than MY mother. OF COURSE I wanted to be JUST LIKE HER. Not anymore. The least I am like her… the more I might live. The more I might allow myself to love. The less I’ll hide from the things that challenge me. The more I’ll venture out on a leap of faith and perhaps find something good. The less I’ll be a martyr. The more I’ll love myself. The more healthy I’ll be. The longer I’ll live.
The more I’ll be like me. Finally – I WANT to be that.