I am in an airport and I’ve fully turned into my mother. I am wearing pennyloafers. Mine happen to be silver. But still. Penny loafers. Is it 1994? I ate fries for breakfast. And a burger. I’m calling it brunch. Another Gayle move. It happened to be Smashburger and not a kamikaze mission into Mickey D’s. But still. I’m thinking a lot about my mom this week.
She died in 2010 of esophageal cancer. I read a post by a young man with CF yesterday about the ways having an illness makes you thankful. And I found myself thinking about the same thing. Here are 4 ways I’m feeling really thankful right here right now at the intersection of life and illness.
1. Eyes wide open to the present
Because there have been times I’ve experienced an overwhelming darkness, I appreciate the light a lot more. (Thanks, Wellbutrin!) Depression is like a screen that blots happiness from your brain. Anxiety is its shitty BFF, loading worry onto a conveyer belt twisting around your brain and heart. This is how I know I’m feeling all the feels but they aren’t pulling my strings. On Oct. 30 I left my family back in OKC and moved to Maryland ahead of the tribe to start a new job in a new field. I definitely got hit with waves of lonliness and sadness 10 days in as the excitement wore off (So I cried on the phone to my sister, WHATEVER). But once I stopped being pathetic, because I let it all out and realized I had control of my emotional state, not the other way around, I forced myself out of the house to hang out with my pals in the area and meet new people. I also know myself well enough to know that if I don’ expel stress with exercise, I’m in trouble. I worked up the nerve to join an exercise bootcamp run by a former Marine. I have no name in that group other than “New Recruit.” And we had a lot of laughs and now all the muscle fibers in my thighs are torn apart from squats. THE END
2. Even with loss, you can think back to the good times
You have to train yourself to think this way or bitterness will consume you, but losing my mom forced me to look at what I had and what she continues to give me, not what I lost. Yes, I roll sans mother. I got her for a full 30 years. And after her diagnosis, we had a year and a half together. And her penny loafers are still making me smile. And her french fry obsession is still making me smile. And her propensity for being just a little bad – impulse silver penny loafer purchase here, french fries for breakfast there, is making me smile.
3. Low, low standards
My standards for happiness are really low! I swear to you low standards really are the key to happiness. When something as heavy as disease is in the picture – Eli’s cystic fibrosis – what does it take to make us happy? Not much! Are we breathing? Roger that. Then we accomplished something big today. Am I wearing pants? BONUS. Mascara? Damn I look good. I mean DAMN. Are my kids fed and dressed and only five minutes late for school today? Oh my gawd we are on fire. The highlight of my day – maybe the month, maybe the year – is going to be surprising them at the airport in St. Louis, where I’m meeting my tribe and our extended family. We haven’t told them I’ll be there. In fact, I’ve been playing it up that I won’t be. MWAHAHAHAHA
Standards so low this flower made my day[/caption]
4. I don’t have time to overschedule the hell out of us
My son’s care is time consuming. So, poinsetta sale, kindly eff off.