Emotional Can of Worms

Upon viewing some friends' baby pictures I decided to reminisce in my own and perhaps share a few. Man, did I not know what would come of that. It opened a whole new can of emotional beans I forgot was there. The above picture was taken when I was 1yr old at the local park across the street from my grandparents house in Dighton, Kansas. That strapping young man holding me is my father, Dave. What I remember is that his mustache tickled my face when he kissed me. And then I came across this picture:

Who are those fools, you might ask. The one on the right is my mom, Lynn. She never reads this site so I feel free to talk about her. When I saw this picture, tears began to stream down my face. You see, this is the mom I never got to know. My mom was diagnosed at an early age with multiple sclerosis and unfortunately at the age of 31 began to progress rather rapidly. All of my most vivid memories of my mom during my childhood were that of an angry, bitter, stressed out, sad, frustrated, sometimes smiling mom. People tell me that I remind them of her. I hear stories about her, of what she used to be like - of her playing on stage, in the band, in the rally squad, having lots of boyfriends, happy, daring, singing (she had a great voice).

Sometimes I wonder if I carry around anger toward her MS, anger toward feeling cheated out of not having the mother-daughter relationship my friends had/have. And I suppose I do. I never got to "shop" with my mom, tell stories, take walks with, all that crap that you hate when you're young but can look back with fond memories of. Even now, I wish I had her here to joke with and do crap like the above picture with. We could have so much fun. When my son was born, I didn't have my mom there. I didn't have the advise and moral support of her. So, where is she you ask? Oh, Leslie I'm sorry to hear she's passed. No. She's not, and I'm sorry if I seem as though I'm talking like she is. She's still alive, living in North Carolina with some guy who she says is abusive to her. See, she divorced my father along with my sister and I when I was 17. Her MS progressed to almost a dementia-like state where she wasn't making any rational decisions. To this day she is almost Alzheimer Disease-like. To put it into some perspective - on Christmas my sister and I called her. She asked me where I got the name Everett Mason for my son. She didn't remember his name was Maysen David. My sister and I have tried to get her help, to even tried to convince her to move closer to us, but it's a never-winning battle. She changes her mind every second of every day. Her thoughts and ideas are more sporadic by the day and it's exhausting trying to organize our lives around her whim of an idea one moment, just to have it go down in a blaze of glory the next.

Why am I going here? I don't know. I'm thankful for the family I *do* have, and I'm thankful that my mother is still with us. I see pictures like the above and realize that one day she was happy and I can only hope one day again she'll feel that happiness again...

ps: Phew .. and if I don't get my period any day now, I'll be worried that I'm just becoming an emotional wreck! Sorry - most of you don't want to know about Aunt Flo..WHERE'S THE CHOCOLATE?