Well, it's been a year of Beachbody. A year of change. A year of dramatic personal growth. My biggest achievement hasn't been losing 40 pounds, although that's been wonderful. The best thing I've taken away from this year is the knowledge that I can do anything I set my mind to and that my will is stronger than I ever thought possible.
My personal relationship with my husband and kids couldn't be better. I'm truly blessed in that area. My relationship with my parents is another story entirely.
I was raised by crazy. No, I'm not being mean. I am serious. Raised by someone with such severe anxiety that there were years my mother didn't leave the house. A house that seemed happy, seemed "normal" but just wasn't. The thing about crazy is this....admitting you're crazy is half the battle.
We all have shortcomings. We all have issues. Acknowledgment of the issues is the hard part. Never did we talk about my mom's anxiety. It was the elephant in the room. Everyone knew but nobody talked about it. For years and years my dad would talk to me about it every time we were alone. He seemed to be just as in the dark as us kids as to why she was like that.
I yearned for a normal mom. One who would take me shopping, one who would do all the normal mother daughter activities. I shopped for my prom dress alone. I took pictures of the dress, had them printed and brought the pics home so my shut in mother could help me decide which one to buy. It's how I assumed I would pick my wedding dress as well....then the impossible happened.
She got better. It lasted only a few years and they were honestly everything I dreamed them to be. We shopped, we got pedicures, we picked out my wedding dress together. It was during this time that I was married and she attended the wedding, and also had two children in the same two years. She made it to both of my births and was the first person (besides Joe) that I wanted in the room, the first hands to touch my beautiful little angels. Life was perfection.
And, then she relapsed. The problem with having the relationship you always dreamed of with a mother you love, is that when it all changed back it was really difficult to understand. I didn't GET how all of a sudden she couldn't walk out the door again. I didn't get how she couldn't manage to go to my home but my sisters house seemed like her safe haven. I didn't understand how she could webmd and self medicate herself instead of seeing a therapist that could finally address the real issue.
Not only was this devastating for me on a personal level, but I also worked with her. Full time. 50 hours a week...in her home. It felt like walking into a prison each and every day and it was a ticking time bomb until I just couldn't take it for one more minute. Apparently, my distaste with the situation became very evident and soon we were both unhappy. Luckily for us both, we were able to dissolve our working situation and I started working from my home.
I had assumed in the beginning that the awkwardness and anger would dissipate in time and we would get back to some version of "normal"....as normal as crazy can be. That never happened. She got vindictive, she got mean and she said some of the most hateful things a person can say.
Making a decision to move on with my life, without my mom and dad in it was a heart wrenching horrible choice. For months I would wonder if I made the right choice. I remembered all the good things about them and somehow the bad didn't seem quite so bad...and each and every time I thought about trying to reconcile, crazy would strike again. I say crazy because I truly think some of what she does and says is out of her control.
So I sit here a year later, over 40 pounds lighter, parentless and I think to myself....God, thank you for this year. Thank you for this strength. Thank you for my husband and kids and thank you God for giving ME enough power and will to know that although eating a pumpkin cookie in Door County in Wisconsin made me burst into tears thinking of HER...that I can't fix crazy. I'm not a mental health expert. I can't fix her need to always be in battle with one of her children. (she'll deny it, but one of the 3 of us is always at the bottom) I shield my children from her, from the hurt and from crazy. Each day that I make it is a victory and I'm proud....even if still just a little bit sad.
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