[ Dear diary, November 25, 9:52PM ]

Oh. Hai der. You’ve been here all this time? I apologize…I honestly didn’t notice.

But do you get it? Do you understand a mother’s love?

I’m slightly wrapped up in my own reality…you know, that reality where you can’t understand unless you’ve been there and then all of our stories are unique? How can we possibly empathize and give justice to that?

There is no understanding…

Have I acted psycho, unpredictable, or unstable to you in the last few weeks?

Circle NO…wow…I love you but I’m happy you aren’t that close to feel the collateral damage…

Circle YES…well..congratulations…you are my backbone…I first feel the need to apologize. I feel like I need to say to you, “I’m sorry?” Because you hold me up and I just fight…

But please know, I’m sorry and not sorry.

Can you tap into that fear of when your smoke alarm goes off in your home? Most of the time it’s a benign effect but there’s that feeling in the back of your mind that there is a threat unseen. No matter the outcome, you are thrust into the the fight or flight stage. But it’s rainbows…I’m going to live no matter what goes down…

Hey…just replace the battery on the smoke alarm and all is ok. BUT…what if there is real danger? Do you ignore it because you’ve been overreacting to the status norm or do you take it to heart?

Living as a “caretaker” of a terminally ill mother enforces a didocaid of all realities…it’s been a month and I’m getting worse more than better.

Triggers are everywhere and prompt a reaction whether wanted or unwanted. If you come to contact with me over these days, I’m sorry to say that there are winners and there are losers. I interact with people that I love and don’t dwell on my hurt but yet hate you at the same time because you ignore my reality. I will look at you with disbelief like I’m living in denial but yet get mad if you don’t acknowledge our hurt.  I’m so sorry you can’t ever win. It’s been a month and the diagram tells me I should have a little direction…but eff that…I don’t follow rules.

A year ago I posted on social media:

I don’t like to be public with every day coming and going, but we could really use some prayers right now. Yesterday we decorated mom’s [Christmas] tree and the tears were streaming down her face the whole time. She finally admitted that this may be the last time she does this with the kids. I told her IT ISN’T THE LAST TIME AND THERE WILL BE PLENTY MORE. Being of a positive frame of mind goes only go so far. I knew it at the time, but I lied to her when I told her there would be more. I encouraged her that this was not the last…but it was…I’m a liar.

I can’t breathe…I can’t do her legacy justice…but please, feel her tears in these photos…that’s all I ask…the smallest things are the most important…

And you know what?

I want my mom…I want her to hang the most God awful ornaments on her tree because they have meaning to her…the annoyances of then are blessings of today…FU8A0032FU8A0034FU8A0021FU8A0022FU8A0037FU8A0038FU8A0042FU8A0046FU8A0052FU8A0054FU8A0057FU8A0064FU8A0068FU8A0071FU8A0074FU8A0077FU8A0079FU8A0080FU8A0083FU8A0095FU8A0101FU8A0104FU8A0105FU8A0114FU8A0125

These photos are from a year ago….

I wish I had a more grand way of sharing these to do my Mommy justice…

The littlest things are the biggest things.



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