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The punches you can hardly catch
Her hunched back and distant gaze are a heartbreaking sight. Not the mom I grew up watching; the fast-paced, sharp, almost intimidating force of energy who could walk into a room and either fix your life or tell you exactly why it was falling apart. Or usually both, honestly. If you had told me in ’99 that by ’25 my mom would be a dependent version of herself, I would’ve laughed in your face. Loudly. Probably insulted you, too. Called you crazy…or maybe worse. She was the brain of the family. Honestly, I’d go as far as saying she was the brain of her entire friend group — everyone’s unofficial…
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Birthday triggers and a sunrise
Every year around the sun has come with a new challenge since my decades climbed more ladders. I’ve had to pick myself up from every imaginable scenario; through the existential dreads, mood swings, from every harmful mental stage. I’m glad that I have, but it always leaves room to wonder, have I gotten this right? Should I care? And, why? And it seems like a thing that one day came to stay: good ol’ birthday sadness. So the question remains: why is my birthday so triggering instead of bringing me happiness? It seems the farther I go into my double digits the harder it becomes to dig it. Everything and…
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Music to her brain
What felt like a breakdown was probably a combination of hormonal changes and the realization that my present was bigger than anything I had imagined in the past. The realization that the parent who raised me and bulled her way through the ups and downs of life, without anyone by her side, is now only a shadow of what used to be a blazing light. Some time ago, my mother was diagnosed with dementia — the loss of cognitive functioning, like the ability to think rationally, remember, and express her thoughts. Although I’m not sure yet of how much I want to share of her story, I will say that…
