Throughout my entire childhood (including my years as a teenager), I my mom taught me many, many things: to tie my shoes, to cook, to say “please” and “thank you”… The list could go on forever. There was one thing, however that just didn’t stick, despite her increasing desperation to teach it to me as I grew older: tact. For as long as I can remember, I’ve called things as I see them with little to no thought about people’s feelings about it. I call it being “honest”, but most people consider it downright “rude”. True, over the years, I’ve learned to fake it, at least well enough to make it through normal interactions, but I hate every minute of it. Sugar coating things is just not in my nature. That being said, I’m about to be brutally honest, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
As a kid, I thought my mom was an idiot. (Sorry, mom!) It’s true, I did. In typical adolescent fashion, I tried to ignore just about everything that she said that didn’t involve me getting something that I wanted. There was just no way she could possibly have understood what I was going through, and I generally believed she existed only to make my life more difficult. The feeling gradually faded after I moved out, and I eventually came to see her as an equal.
Recently, however, it came to my attention that I was in fact, the idiot. Not only does she know more than I do, she’s willing to share! It turns out that mom really does know exactly what I’m going through, even though the circumstances may differ slightly.
To say I’ve been going through some difficulties lately is putting it extremely mildly. I would love nothing more than to divulge my story and get it out of my head but, it’s not entirely my tale to tell, so I have to leave it at “difficulties”. Throughout the entire disaster, my mom has been right by my side, holding my hand or leaving me alone as needed. It took me a long time to discover that she’s also a great listener, and even better, she’s got some amazing advice as well. Who knew??
Seriously though, my 16 year old self would never have believed it. Then again, my 16 year old self would never have believed the disaster my life has become, either. I’m pretty sure that at 16, I fully expected to be a world ruling, millionaire by the age of 29; certainly, I never imagined I’d end up as the victim of a disabling, invisible disease.
Regardless, the whole point of this post is to say “thanks, mom”. Thank you for loving me exactly as I am, thanks for the talks, the advice, and all the confidence that you have in me. I don’t know where I’d be without you. I may be posting this too late for Mother’s Day, but it needed to be said nonetheless.
P.S.- Don’t worry, dad, I didn’t forget you, Father’s Day is coming up 🙂
Fighting Fibro with Fire 