Stress killed my mother. Her doctors would tell you it was the cancer, the holistic healer would tell you it was the chemotherapy and some would say it was the loss of hope when she heard 'terminally ill'. I, however, am not convinced. I was mad for a long time at the doctors for giving her so many different prescription pills and passing her illness off as a 'head case'. I was mad at the FDA for not telling anyone the truth about what we consume, what we thought was safe because we were foolish enough to believe they care about our well being when it's all about monetary gain. But I was mostly mad at God and the universe because I didn't understand why my mom was taken when we all still needed her. Now, two and a half years later, none of that seems to matter. The only salient thoughts that make a difference is trying to make it through blue moments in our lives that she was supposed to be there for. The hard part is not telling yourself how it was supposed to be. Yes, I feel lost...all the time. I feel cheated and like a part of all of us is missing. I cry about things that I never even noticed before, a little girl holding her moms hand, a teenage girl shopping with her mom, mothers day. At this point in my life a good, solid day is one that I don't break down crying over a Disney movie or on the bathroom floor. Things don't appear to be getting easier which is disappointing because that's what everyone tells you will happen. The truth is, it doesn't. It gets harder. Graduations, engagements, weddings, bar hopping, babies, new boyfriends, A's on tests. None of these things seem to matter as much anymore, or at least don't seem to make you as happy because something is always missing. Happiness doesn't seem like a goal, it seems like a foreign custom that you don't understand. Smiling becomes a chore, irritation becomes that friend that won't leave no matter how loud you curse at it and you have to pray with everything you have left just to make it through the day. Truth be told, everything may not happen for a reason but if I told myself that, the last three years wouldn't seem worth it. If I told myself that, nothing would make sense. So I just breathe and smile, hoping that one day it will get easier and instead of wishing she was here and telling myself that it should be different, I will just breathe, smile and remember how to be myself again.
Being around family helps which is relieving that they don't look at me like the living dead anymore because of the resemblance between my mom and I. However friends are another matter. After she died I made amends with all the people I had a vendetta against or vice versa, in attempt to do the things my mom would be proud of. It turns out it was a waste of energy. Although it helped temporarily, the amends didn't last. I blame myself. I'm not good at being nice to people. I let my temper get the best of me and take a lot of things for granted. I guess the most trialing fact is, is that I feel nothing like my mother. Which in turns makes me feel like shit not being able to be proud of her years of parenting because I'm too busy hating everything around me, including myself. Life is one big paradox, an endless string of catch twenty twos.
I'm not a mother, or a scientist, I'm not even studying clinical psychology. I'm not a helper, I'm not a giver and I'm sure as hell anything but selfless. I make excuses for my behavior that even I don't believe. There are times that I don't know the right thing to do but there is no excuse for doing the wrong thing when you knew the right thing to do all along. And that's what my life has come down to, taking the low road when I had the map to the just road the whole time.
The point of all this self reflecting bullshit? There will be people who don't like you. Always. But it's when you start hating yourself that something has to change. Not that I have any idea how to do that. I would guess it comes down to knowing the difference between the battles worth fighting and the ones that aren't worth the scars. Most important being the fights with yourself.
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