Glass half full.. slow leak..

My mom was the best. Really. She was. I know we are all supposed to blindly praise our moms and hide all the negative stuff.. but I don’t have anything to hide.

My mom taught me to be positive. Half full.. always. And that was on a bad day. The glass was usually full.

Someone once told me that I struggle with depression. I believe depression is when there isn’t a “reason”. The psychologist I went to after the death of my mom told me that. She said that I was mourning. That isn’t the same.

I have mourned half of my life. My dad died when I was in my 20’s and I lost my mom at 40. (Not even mentioning the many other loved ones I have lost.) My brother has had undiagnosed issues all of his life and is mentally unstable. And he has been missing for a year.

That is just some of my dirt. I figure there is some stuff I will keep to myself. We all know that there is a moment when blogging feels like a journal.. except that it is public.

Somehow, when I list this I hear my mom’s voice. Telling me of all that I still have. Saying that it’ll be OK, that Life continues.. until it doesn’t. Just like that.

For today, I have my health. My girls and husband are all doing well. I have a roof over my head and even still have just enough money for electricity and an old Mac to surf the web, reach out to friends, and write my thoughts for strangers to read.

Despite the leakage, I know my mom is a beautiful angel with sparkly wings refilling my glass when I am not looking.

And although I have my issues with God-I thank him daily. I thank him for having given me the greatest dad for 20 years and the totally best mom for 40.

That’s how I will help my daughters keep their glass full.. from all the love I received early on. A Mother’s love that keeps on giving.

Happy Mother’s Day!

.. to everyone that has/had/is one.

Tantrums are Contagious

My daughter is an Aspie. She ‘has’ Asperger’s. It’s on the Autism spectrum. All just words. Basically, my daughter needs me. And I have no problem with that. It’s just I don’t think like her. I don’t want to say she doesn’t think like me. Who is to say that my thoughts are all that anyway. My daughter is creative and funny and comes to her own conclusions. Not always what someone might say is the “right” answer. But for her it is.

She is so pure. In emotion. Thought. Everything is telegraphed. What freedom there must be in that. Maybe more of a mixed blessing. To be able to feel the emotion in the moment. See, there I struggle. When the crying starts I can barely keep my composure. I feel her emotions. All of them. Even if we are crying over spilled milk. For her it is a pure emotion and I get it. So maybe not a blessing..

I love my children equally. Funny that my daughter gets jealous of her sibling. She says that I focus and spend more time with her sister. She doesn’t remember the extra attention I gave her in the early years. Practicing words and building blocks. And even now with IEP meetings and extra support in school.

Well, one day at a time. Hugs and kisses to make it through. And once in a while a timeout for me, too.