Braving new beginnings.

Today I came to the painful realization that some things will never change. I've been holding my breath for so long hoping the things the I've come so accustomed to would magically change for the good. I have been so wrong for so long. I have grown breathless. I can no longer keep up this internal battle.

Which means, I have to stop waiting and finally start living. I've felt trapped for so so long.

Trapped in a place that causes hurt and pain.

Trapped in a town that feels broken.

Trapped between suffering and stubbornness.

Trapped between what my heart wants to do and what my body says I can do.

Trapped between a desire to spread my wings - but not ever knowing if I can do that. Waiting ever patiently for circumstances to change and eagerly anticipating that days arrival. Yet, it hasn't come. The day isn't even in sight. Only dreams of what could be exist in this tiny town. 

So here I am, a bit broken. Beat up. Bent. Now stricken with new wounds just when I thought I was healing. I guess this is the process though right? Its not an easy one. Its not a 'one click' and you're all cleaned kind of thing. As a generally impatient kind of person this kind of "it takes time" healing process is killing me.  And any new adversity adds to my general feeling of being trapped. How do I escape this? I've always made plans. I was almost an over planner for a teenager. But it felt good, I set goals and achieved them in the order I so planned. It felt so satisfying to be in such control of my life. And now, there is no control. Well, maybe it only seems that way.

So that is it, there is my answer. I need to get control again of this beautiful thing called life. I have been kicked down but I am fighting to get back up again. I can't wait for the clouds to lift to start living. I need to live despite the clouds. Figure out new plans. Make new goals. Dream again, and maybe, even accomplish some of those dreams. I don't always have to be trapped.  Sometimes it just takes a painful reminder that I am not actually trapped. Its perspective. Its all in how much you want to make changes. Its all how you view it. Its all within you.  It is all within me.  

Everyday is a new beginning. A clean slate. A fresh start. A chance to heal the wounds that left us the day before completely broken. So today I'm starting over.

I'm still breathing, so I can do this.  And so can you.

If you are feeling broken down and battered you are not alone. But you can do this. One foot in front of the other. Keep breathing. Slow steady steps. One day at a time. Remember it won't be dark forever. 

A letter to my mother.

Recently, my mother read my blogs and told me how much she loves them and that I should write more. She continued by saying that I should write about my experiences or about the people I know, just write more. So for the past few weeks I've been thinking about what my next tear jerking, tissue prompting blog would be about. But I didn't want to write about the same things I had already done, so where would my heart strings tug at next?

And then, in a moment, while listening to a song about someone having had so much to say but didn't and was left suffocating with the words they never said, I realized what my next blog would be about. Simply, my mother. I am absolutely certain that if anything ever happened to her, a blog would appear from me with expressions of all I wished I had said, to her, about her and for her. So instead, with thoughts of life and death for some reason fresh on my mind, I will express those thoughts while she can appreciate them. Maybe my emotions stem from the fact that next January will be the 10 year anniversary from the time I thought I may lose my mother to ovarian cancer, or maybe because she is currently being checked for the breast cancer/ovarian cancer gene next week. Either way, something is stirring up my emotions from that cold 2004 winter.

I have a somewhat strange habit of blocking out certain badness from my mind. By that I mean, if a certain experience isn't a good one, I black most of it out. However, the day the dr came out from that very long surgery and said "yes, there was cancer", I remember running away to a bathroom, or an elevator, I'm not sure where I was going, but I remember my husband chasing after me, I remember loosing it wherever we were. I remember the long-ass drive home, and Eric getting pulled over by a state trooper, and me mumbling some miserable words to the state trooper who could apparently see my distress and let us go. But then, I don't remember much more. What happened the next few days, weeks? Where was I? I think I went to see her again while she was recovering over an hour away, and I think she was pretty beaten up. But did I? What kind of daughter was I back then? Yes, I was working full time as a manager in a retail store, with time off being difficult, but that's no excuse. I can't recall if I really wasn't there for her, or if I was just going through the motions, struggling to exist, subconsciously blocking out the scary parts. Before we found all this out, we had been in the middle of moving. We were headed to Florida, permanently. My husband had a job lined up, and I was looking for apartments. But I couldn't leave her. I couldn't crush her spirit that was busy battling this disease. She needed me here. She needed positive, not negative feelings. So we stayed, and we're still here to this day.

But even still, guilt chokes me when I think how I should have been a better daughter. So while your still here mama, I'm sorry I didn't do more then. And though you may not know it, it was my worst nightmare. Constantly questioning how much time I had left with you. Writing this, through my tears, I am reminded of the sick heart I felt with that huge question mark we all had running through our heads. But I still have you. And I appreciate you so much more now. I also enjoy bragging to everyone how despite my naive thoughts and displeasure at the time of your choices, you beat cancer the all natural way. No chemo, no radiation. But with desire and determination, you did it. I was and I am so proud of you for kicking it the way you knew you could.

Now, ten years later, we are closer than ever. It's weird if we go a day without talking, and when we don't talk, I kind of feel-- empty. I'm not sure where you get your energy from, but you never stop. And you never ever stop caring for others. I'm constantly amazed at the amount of love you can hold in that heart. Whether its rushing to the store to get something someone needs, or creating a "cod liver oil pain patch" for someone hurting, making the best homemade chicken noodle soup for someone sick, or just listening to me complain or cry. There are even times, when I've been in such a bad place, either physically or mentally, that my husband though try with all his might to help, will at some point realize that the only one who can help, is my mother. I've seen him practically race to the phone, and it was as if he was administering a morphine drip to someone completely broken. He takes a sigh of relief and steps back as he knows my mom will fix it, whatever it is, she will make me better. Like when your little and sick, the only person in the world that you want is your mommy. She can't always fix it or take the pain away, but in her touch and her soft words, you find comfort. I hope my girls feel that way about me.... I hope I give them the same comfort you have always given me. I hope they love me, half as much as I have always loved you.