My mom is at a conference for work in Baltimore right now. Even before her health problems, she didn't do this often. She doesn't go many places and she doesn't hang out with many people. She hangs out with my grandma, my dad, and Mike. She works from home most of the time, especially since COVID. She hasn't gone into the office much since she started having health issues.
But right now, she's at a work conference in Baltimore. She's 5+ hours from home. She's telling me about the new pantsuits she got for the conference and sending me pictures of the cool shoes that she's wearing.
I wonder if she knows how proud of her I am.
One year ago, she came up to me, trembling, tears running down her face with her bottles of medication in her hands. She didn't know which she should take. She didn't know how many she could take. She didn't know when she should take them.
She was a scared child before my very eyes. A 48-year old scared child that did not know what to do.
Now my mom is in Baltimore. And she's sipping wine. My mom doesn't drink, but at the conference each attendee is given a courtesy drink, if they'd like.
I had to console my mom and tell her what to do. I had to ask her grounding questions and instruct her as to what pills to take. She takes the pills and her panic fades.
Now I'm looking at my mother, frail from illness, her face stained with tears.
During my junior year of high school I had a breakdown in my guidance counselor's office after a bad car ride to school with my mother. I needed help and this was my way of finally getting help. None of the adults in my life knew what I was going through. I just wanted help.
My mom didn't sit me down and ask me grounding questions. She didn't instruct me on the correct pills to take.
I wish she instructed me on the correct pills to take.
"She's your problem now."