Since my mom’s death, I’ve been able to write more about her struggles and challenges in life– many of which I believe stem from her having had polio when she was six and walking with a limp the rest of her life. But I also have become more aware of how the way she felt about herself translated to us, her children. She loved us, I have no doubt about that, but that’s not what this about.
Instead, it’s about how she never felt good enough with anything that she accomplished or had in her life.
And if you know me well enough, do you see the connection?
While she often told me that I was from another limb of the family tree– one that didn’t connect with the rest of the family– what reflects back at me is how much I saw the pain, the challenges, the unfulfilled lives of my parents, and how I didn’t want that to be me.
Maybe I am from another limb, maybe I’m an old soul, but with each passing day I am more and more aware of how I choose to spend my time and what goals I want to achieve are a culmination of everything that makes me who I am.
Long before there was social media where I could share what inspires me, the items I create, or anything about my writing (how different my life would have been if there had been social media when my first book about sibling suicide grief was published), I was still doing everything I am today. I was still a bit crazy (okay, anal is a better word) about my housekeeping, after all who judges a husband on how clean a house looks?! It’s always the female half who gets the judgment. I ran, I swam, and I ran my dogs. I cooked, I tried new recipes. And there was that doctorate somewhere in the midst of all of this. I thought people who took three-day tests were crazy until I became one of them.
Everything.
These things that make me not just who I am, but who I want to be. As I stand here, I’m in front of a gulf that separates me from where I am today and where I want to be. I used to call it a gorge, but I’ve changed it to a gulf because I can swim that gulf. I wasn’t sure how I’d get across the gorge as there wasn’t a bridge.
I struggle some days with the fact that I am not where I want to be, that my goals that seem so close in my mind, still look so far away on the outside. And then I take myself back to my youth, to the very things that have inspired me to get here, that have kept me motivated. And I remind myself to keep going.
I don’t want to live an unfulfilled life. I don’t want the sadness and depression that I saw plague both my parents in their lives. The inspiration is flowing so fast some days that it’s overwhelming, but it’s what keeps me going. I rest when I need to and gather strength for the next leg of the journey.
I have worked hard to get here. I might have a long way to go to where I want to be, but somehow I’ll get there. I refuse to be sidelined by the thoughts of “not good enough” that my mom had.
More than anything, for this Thanksgiving week, I am reminded how much I am thankful for who I am.