That Terry

It was a good day today.  I have been fighting with a bit of depression but it could just be a touch of flu.  I’m not sure. I have been so exhausted.

I hoped to write more about May’s topic before now but the words have not been flowing.  In fact, I’ve been quite blocked on this issue.

To me, it is important to add that I am in awe of great mothers!

So often society blames mothers for every little thing, while the father’s role is diminished.  I grew up without a father.  In fact, when I met Dad again (after my parents divorced), my brother introduced me. I had not seen him for 18 years and couldn’t recognize him from his brothers who were visiting that day.

Mothers work so hard and give endlessly.  They love those little scrunched-up and red faces from the second their baby is born. At first cry, they fall in love and never fall out.

So, for the moment, please know, dear readers, that my own experience aside, I support mothers in every way.  I encourage and respect those who fight so hard to shape and enrich the lives of their children, thereby chiselling out our futures.

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About two days ago, I realized that I was avoiding this blog.  No. It wasn’t because I felt like a prisoner to it, nor was it due to an evaporation of all ideas.  I stayed clear due to the topic: Mother’s Day.  I honour this day so much!  However, this is probably not for the reason you might think.

My mother died on April 15, 2000.  She was 63 and had a heart attack that killed her at home.  I forgot how I got word but, of course, it was a blow, even if a hollow one.

You see, Mom and I were never close.  I do remember a handful of good times but that is about all.  In addition, it is hard for me to say that. I loved my mother but she beat and berated me until I despised myself and the very feel of my own skin, so thoroughly, that I first tried to commit suicide at 13 or 14.  I was locked in the basement shortly after I had swallowed a whole bottle of over-the-counter pain relievers. The fighting, yelling, kicking and crashing of dishes became too much for my nerves and my hands shook incessantly.  I did not plan to overdose that day but when the hitting started, I did this with no thought at all.

I will write more on this later. I am not sure how I even feel about saying this much. I do not want to be stigmatized by these tragic events. I love life and have grown emotionally to such a degree, I sometimes find it hard to recognize this new life as the evolution of mine from decades ago.

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