One good thing about the flu...

Above: me as i looked, reclining in my sickbed wearing my tiara. i found this on Varifrank.com in a pretty funny blog post.

Well, after a week of eating an ounce at a time, i've lost 7 pounds. It was a lousy week, it was one of the roughest weeks i've had in recent history, but i lost 7 pounds. That part was good.

i was looking back at what i ate all week, and if i could just manage to eat about 600 calories every day for the rest of my life, maybe i could lose another 7. As opposed to my usual eating, not perfect but certainly a bit more than an ounce at a time, i could only manage to eat an apple and 7 Triscuits all day, then maybe a piece of toast for dinner. Amazing. Of course, i did manage some therapeutic chocolate here and there.

ANYway, this brought some other thoughts to my mind:

There are things i don't like about myself, like, i don't like my weight, i'm not crazy about my wrinkles, but i'm good with myself. Here at 50-odd years old (some much odder then others) i'm actually okay with who i am.

(This could be longish, so you Skimmers hang on for the recap.)

Wind back to January of 2001--my mother died of cancer in Nebraska, and i received the call in California. This call came from her lawyer, as she had not even told me her cancer had returned. Then the deluge of treasures started coming. Stuff like her hand-written will outlining her Replacement Loved Ones and the possessions she wished them to have. i was the only of her 3 birth children still in contact, she had alientated my sister and brother years before. So for me she saved her special comments, designed to make sure i knew i'd been a bitter disappointment to her. i, along with the lawyer and my aunt, received the long pages written to each of her children outlining the many specific ways we had each disappointed her and ruined her life. Then followed the albums of family photos and framed family pictures and such, each with sticky notes attached. These told me things such as "you children killed the mother I was" and other words to hold near and dear to my heart in her absence.

i went into a hysterical tailspin and became a Frequent Flyer at Kaiser's Mental Health and Chemical Dependency Clinic. i remember the first day i spoke with someone there. i was sobbing, "But why could she love those other people, and not me?" The nurse spoke of our expectations of our mothers--"We expect our mothers to love us, and protect us. That's a nurturing act--from here, to here," she said, gesturing from an adult height down to a child's height. "Those others she can relate to from here to here," she said, gesturing from an equal to an equal.

i knew my mother had replaced us with more acceptable children in her new and improved life in Nebraska, but i'd never understood. That day started a 5 year trip down Mental Health Road. A really valuable trip. A trip i hope never to need to repeat.

But from that day of a new beginning, i came from a place where i doubted every single thing about myself, even things i was sure of. i was pretty sure i was a good mom, a kind person, but if the person who is supposed to love you more than anyone in the world thinks you are a disappointment, it's hard for someone like me to know who to believe. But the nurse that first day told me, "You have a very good chance to have a great second half of your life."

i wanted to believe her, desperately. But i couldn't see a way to that place that day. And now seven years have passed. In that time i've been able to pull together the truths of who i am as a person before God. The things He's gifted me with, the person He's grown me into, the kind of woman i knew i was, i've been able to accept--i've learned to silence the voice of my mother that lived in my head. i was finally able to sort out what i knew of myself from what my mother had me believing. And i'm finally good with me. Not with everything about me, but with me.

But i'm still happy about the seven pounds.

Skimmer recap:
Mother. Cancer. Dead. Bad stuff. But now i'm good.

;-)