I started this blog with a vow to myself that I would be honest and raw about my feelings and the experiences that accompany caring for a family member with a terminal illness. So far, I have never sugarcoated my feelings or fluffed things up for you. The days that I was so low that it may have alarmed you, I refrained from writing (there have been some low times). But when I did write, I told you exactly what was on my mind and in my heart. If I am putting all this in writing to help someone going through a similar situation, it wouldn't be effective if I was all unicorns and rainbows. I won't tell you I am confident, when I have doubts. I won't tell you I am happy, when I am sad. I won't tell you my faith has alleviated my pain, when I still hurt. I think this honesty is part of my healing process. Maybe if I recognize my feelings, and call them exactly what they are, then perhaps I can overcome them. And maybe, just possibly, help somebody who's reading my words fight through their own situation (whatever it may be) as well.
Having said that...This is kind of dark.
Until Neva's gymnastics this afternoon, I have not left my house since our Thanksgiving celebration ended Sunday. Some of you may go days without leaving your house, and think nothing of this. I don't. I get out, usually, everyday. Don't get me wrong, Sunday was a good day. I enjoyed spending time with my family, and I pretty much made it to the end of the day before I really cried. We laughed. We ate. We came together and it was good. The days leading up to our gathering were not great, but, I slipped into something...some kind of funk...as I drove away that evening. I have functioned enough to feed my kids and give them the most basic of care. But nothing extra. I have found myself laying around in my pajamas, barely speaking, ignoring phone calls, and crying at the drop of a hat. I try to tell myself that they don't notice, but it is completely out of character for me to turn the tv to cartoons and barely interact with them--so they know something's up. Then, when the day ends, and I realize I've barely laughed with my girls, or played with them, or been the mom I always wanted to be....Then, the guilt sets in and makes my existing depression even worse. I have lost myself.
This afternoon, when I was forced to leave home because Neva had gymnastics--I started to feel a little better. I got dressed and got the kids ready. Mili stayed with Michael's mom, so I really got some quality time with the older girls. Though it took alot of effort on my part, we talked a little on the way to Oak Grove. Then, Nori sat in my lap and smacked on some chips while we watched Neva through the observation window. It is a thought that has always lingered in my mind "am I good enough?" pertaining to my parenting abilities. I try so hard, but when something doesn't pan out, I beat myself up---really badly. So, my couple of days spent feeling sorry for myself--feels like the ultimate failure. Like I have scarred them because I didn't tickle them, I traumatized them because there was no art activity planned or trip to the park...."They must hate me", is what I was thinking to myself as I sat there. I am sitting there with self doubting thoughts in my head and Nori in my lap, her curly hair tickling my face. Then, Neva walks by with her teachers and fellow tumblers and she smiles so warmly and waves excitedly...... the look in her eyes was....... love. Hands down, head over heels love for her Mommy... then, she blew me a kiss. I teared up, and my heart skipped a beat. Literally in that moment, Nori looked up at me and gave me a kiss. And just like that, I knew that I had done something right.
It is true, I have had a couple bad days...and I am sure there are more to come. But, for every two bad days, there are hundreds of great ones. It took the innocent smile of a child and the look of love in her big blue eyes to remind me of my worth and strengthen my desire to be ME. I heard my mom in my heart, telling me that I am a great mother and my kids are lucky to have me. And it inspired me to be better, try harder and beat this thing that is trying to rule my life. I will not let my sadness overtake all the happiness in my life. I will NOT.
I felt lighter driving home. I found myself smiling a bit at their silly little jokes. I found me. I'm still here.....I am just buried underneath the weight of a broken heart. I will dig myself out. And when I get lost again, I will look for the light to lead me back home. The light of the love in my children. God gave them this light, but I help keep it bright everyday by showing them they are my world.
This is tough.
But I am tougher.
I can do this.
I will do this.
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