I am good at feeling sorry for myself.  Some might say I have it down to a science, an art form and those who say that would probably be right. 

 

I am getting better, and am learning to let go of past things that regardless of how many times I cry about them are never going to change.   In life you don’t get do over’s, you just have to move forward and if you spend too much time reliving everything in the past you miss all kinds of good stuff in the right now.

 

As a kid, I knew the stuff going on in my family was not normal, and not OK and even as a little girl I was mad as hell that all this was happening.  Why did other kids get a nice dad and a caring mom?  What the hell did I do to not deserve that?   

 

I worried and pouted about this forever, still kind of do in fact.

 

I am over the Dad stuff, I think that was easiest because he is not around as a constant reminder and when he does surface he owns what he did and apologizes and slinks away again back under his rock.

 

Not so much with the mom issues.  I see her all the time and still wonder why I didn’t get the kind of mom that all the kids had.   Shit, my friends are all grown ups and I still wonder why I didn’t get the kind of mom they HAVE.

 

Mom’s are supposed to love you unconditionally and they are supposed to cheer you and build you up and make you feel like you deserve good things.  

 

So remember how I said if you spend so much time throwing a pity party you miss out on what is RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE???? 

 

I have that.   Not by birth, but through love.   I have that.  (Maybe technically not old enough, unless she started YOUNG but still.)

 

I met her a little over 10 years ago, and she was with me every step of the way through my horrible divorce, she was there for every dating disaster when I was once again single, she listened to all of my worries and was always my rock and a soft place to land.

 

She cheered me on when I wanted to just stop, and when I stopped she pulled.  

 

When the Beast’s dad left I was hardly functional and she pushed even where it was tender so that I did what I needed to do, even when I didn’t think I could.   When his dad showed back up for the little bit he decided to,  I couldn’t handle seeing him alone so he dropped the Beast off at her house so that I had support.  And he was on good behavior because her vibe was all “mess with her and I will cut you, right here in my living room”.

 

Whenever I have said I can’t, she laughs and tells me yes I can, in fact no one could do it better. 

 

When the beast was in the hospital I really thought I was going to have a breakdown.  She shored me up,  she would come to my office just to check in on me and to hold me because I really wasn’t OK.   She mails me information about the Beast’s diagnosis, and calls with the warning that I might be angry when I read it, but she loves me anyway.

 

She has never once ended a visit with out a hug, and never a phone call without telling me that she loves me.

 

Silly me.  She has been here all along.

 

Happy Birthday BKO, the mom of my heart!     I love you!