Eat, drink, (garden, knit, quilt, think, fix, read) & be merry


on August 3, 2011

I don’t know when, exactly, it happened but it did. Much of my rage and angst has melted away. My criticalness, jealousy, and discontent have gone with it. I am not sure what I’m experiencing now, but many of my previously infected and swollen wounds feel balmed and bandaged. When life pokes at them, I’m surprised at how little they ache.
I still have good days and bad days, but the bad days aren’t so debilitating. My new reality doesn’t feel as overwhelming and shocking as it did while I was learning to see it. I don’t have a mother, although my maternal parent is still alive. As one kind forum user said, “sharing DNA doesn’t mean you have a mother.” But I do have an astonishing number of kind, helpful, and caring people in my life. I have PTSD and will likely battle against depression and anxiety for the rest of my life. But I have support and resources to live a healthy life despite it. I’m learning to shed the shame and the responsibility. I’m learning how to take care of myself.
I still sometimes can’t believe what happened to me. And what didn’t happen. Sometimes I struggle to frame a coherent picture of my life. I rage against questions that don’t have answers. I wrestle with unhealthy patterns and learn pathways to healing behaviors. Sometimes I still sob and scream about the injustice of it all. And then I wipe my tears, blow my nose, hug P and Boris, knit a few rows or pull a few weeds, and get on with it.  My past, my present is exactly what it is, nothing more, nothing less.
Much of it isn’t fair, but as my dad used to say, “Honey, life’s not fair and anyone who tells you differently is a liar.”


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