Last night my mom was at my house.
I wasn’t feeling well, so her and my dad took the boys to baseball (which ended up being cancelled due to the torrential downpour, so they went for dinner than came home). We sat around for a bit after just schmoozing. My dad was upstairs so it was just us.
“How are you doing?”
“Well mom, if you read my blog you would know.”
“I don’t like to read it that often.”
At first I was upset. How does she not know how I am? How does she not read my blog everyday when complete strangers do and even close friends let me know they are proud of my progress? Why wouldn’t she want to?
After my parents left I gave it some more thought. Of course she doesn’t read it. She doesn’t know what she is going to be reading. Will it be that I’ve relapsed and taken 250 laxatives? Or will it be that I’ve celebrated small victories and have been clean for over three weeks? She’s afraid to read it. And I totally get that. I’m a mom. I love my kids more than life and to live through something like this would kill me too. So, in hindsight – I don’t blame her one bit.
I’m sorry mom for thinking you didn’t want to read my blog simply because you didn’t want to read my blog. I get it. You don’t want to read it because you are afraid.
But don’t be. You said you were going to check it out – I know you are smiling to read my last few entries. I also know that you have recognized that I am happier, smile more and as you said “more available.”
I luggies you seba.