It's Father's Day weekend, but since my dad's a deadbeat, I'd like to write a post honouring my other parent: the bravest, most beautiful person I know.
My mom is a warrior. She's survived so much:
-getting an epidural that would fuck up her tailbone for decades
-being paid a fraction of what she's worth doing a job she loved too much to quit
-subsequently quitting that job because her Fibromyalgia became too severe
-starting a mental health coaching business inspired by the support group she started in 1999 to help anxious kids like me
-getting ropivacaine injections in her head and then holding my hand while I get the same shots down my spine
-pretty much being my 24/7 caregiver when my pain and fatigue are too much to handle
-doing everything with empathy and love.
The truth is, I've tried so many times to write about my mom and what she means to me, but when a person is so special, so multi-faceted, how could a few hundred words on the Internet do her justice?
I guess the main thing I want to say is that, I know parents don't get to choose which of their genes to pass on, and I know I got some shitty ones (predisposition to mental illness and high blood pressure, anyone?!), but I got some incredible gifts instilled in me thanks to my mom, too. Like passion and empathy and the ability to express myself through writing. And I know if she could have had a say in what genes to give me, these positive ones I see in her are all I'd have.
I'm the luckiest daughter in the world. I mean that. Love you, Maman.