A lot of people have requested that I take up blogging again...it kind of got squeezed out by school and other obligations that just didn't leave time for regular updates. Apparently people like to read what I write; who knew? So here I am, back again. Be excited.
I just read through all of my old posts, and my head is swimming. It's crazy to think about all that's happened in the past couple years and how different everything continues to be. Since the last time I wrote, so much has changed (both with Mom and just life in general). One really good thing, though, is that after reading all I've written, I realize now I'm doing a lot better than I used to be. I have had more than my fair share of breakdowns, don't get me wrong, but on a daily basis, I am no longer plagued by depression or overwhelmed by life. More often than not, I am doing okay...and I certainly could not have said that a year ago. Thank you Jesus!
But the question everyone asks is, "How's your mom doing?" That answer is not as favorable. It's so strange to me to read some of my old posts and be reminded of conversations with Mom, because we don't have conversations any more. She doesn't talk. She doesn't smile, she doesn't laugh, she doesn't have interest in anything at all. She came to my college graduation, but she wasn't really there. Brian tells me she's happy to have me home after travelling for the past month, but you couldn't tell for the way she's indifferent to my presence. I can't believe how quickly she's become this way. Brian and I wonder whether it's the disease or side effects from medication. My roommate's mom commented to me on graduation day, "Your mom seemed very heavily drugged." Maybe that's why she's so withdrawn and unmotivated. She has an appointment with her psychiatrist tomorrow, and Brian talked her into asking him about going off some of her medication to see if it helps. She's terrified to do anything about her medication because she's afraid that she'll have suicidal thoughts again and "go crazy". But if that's a serious risk, then the doctor won't allow her to go off it anyway, so it doesn't hurt to ask. I'll let you know how it goes.
I've been thinking a lot lately about courage. I had the opportunity recently to share my testimony in front of about 40 people, and several people told me afterwards they think I'm so brave. That's not the first time I've been told that, and I just don't get it. I don't understand why people think I'm brave...it's not like I have a choice in my circumstances. What's happening to my mom is going to happen whether I want it to or not, so that means I just have to deal with it as best as I can. Nothing about how I respond seems brave to me at all. On the contrary, the way I withdraw from Mom and the way I get angry with the Lord sometimes seems utterly cowardly. Just because I'm honest about it doesn't make it courageous. I don't want people to make me out to be some sort of martyr. Sharing my testimony was a great experience and I got a really wonderful response from a lot of people...but I could tell that every single person looked at me differently. For some, it was pity; for others, almost a sort of respect. For almost everyone, there was that look that says, "I never would have guessed you were facing such a struggle", a thought that has also been verbalized to me quite often. I still haven't figured out if it's good or bad that people are usually so surprised to find out about my hidden heartache. I mean, I know it's not something I need to broadcast to the world, but if I come across as so "together" all the time, am I somehow being dishonest? Am I somehow betraying my mom by not being more affected? I can't decide.
Anyway. I'm going to try to get back into the habit of updating regularly again, so check back often if you're interested. I welcome your comments and thank you for stopping by!