Friday - 25 January 2013
Apparently I'm still too flat about this, not showing much if any emotion but then again this is me. Realistic, cynical me. The person going through the treatment that is slowly crushing her hope for a normal life. The light at the end of the tunnel has for now been confirmed as not a speeding train and for that I'm actually grateful, even if I don't show it much.
There's a follow-up at the orthodontist today. I ask mom for a lift but then we have a blow-up and she storms out saying that she wont help me any more because I'm not grateful. I'm not really up to it but I drive my self through. He's happy at the news and also understands why I'm numb about the news but upset about the fight with my mother. I stop at the shops and the post office on my way home.
Braving what could be a continued storm, I head next door in search of mom. She's upset, worried about me, not understanding why I didn't come for her to be lifted but instead drove off by myself. She was worried something could have happened to me. I explain that after the way she stormed out, I didn't think she'd be lifting me so I drove myself. I explain that I can't handle the guilt trips that she is laying out on me. She says she's not doing it. I tell her it's not her intention but that often what she says feel like it. Moaning about how she has to break her day to lift me around, take me to doctors and shopping while she still has all her work to get done, doesn't leave me feeling all that great. I remind her how much it destroys my pride every time I have to ask for a lift. How losing my independence is causing me to lose my mind.
We're not fighting any more, we're just exchanging emotions. Sharing our hurts, pains, frustrations and love. This is how it goes. She shows emotions that she'd never show otherwise and in the end we're crying simply from release of them. She never means to hurt me and I never mean to hurt her but sometimes it happens. She's my mom, I'm her daughter and that's how it goes. We have better relationship than some and it is because of this, because we can let our walls down around each other and know we're still safe. She's not just my mother, she's my mom and that means so much more.
We hug and it's over. We return to the things we were doing. The storm has passed.
I'm tried from driving, from the emotions and crying, and feeling very out of it from the pain meds. I so much prefer floating to this sludgy feeling, it's so much prettier.
Later I post the news again on Facebook, trying to sound happier this time. I promote both statuses so they'll be seen by enough people. Happiness has cracked through a little but it is still masked by the fog and sludge of today's reaction to the pain meds.