Can’t Stop Talking About Mom

January 13, 2018

            My mother seems a lot more at ease this week. I didn’t know that she could get much more relaxed than after her night out a few weeks ago. I guess someone can always prove you wrong. Is it weird that I talk about my mom so much in my journal? I’m sure other people talk about their moms too. I don’t know it feels weird but normal. I guess I’m just a mama’s boy. Either way, I don’t need to worry, because nobody reads these now. Not even my stupid therapist who didn’t come back on time from his emergency. He can’t just leave his patients like that. I mean, I don’t view myself as unstable, but my house feels weird since last week. I guess I could talk to Veronica about my life finally. It’s not that I’ve lied to her, but she hasn’t asked the right questions for me to go into as much detail. I can’t blame her for that though. I just don’t want to burden her with the annoyances I live with, and she may not even view them as that big of a deal. Maybe I am dramatic, but I won’t know until I tell someone I’m not paying to talk to. So, I guess I’ve decided to start to bring Veronica more into my life. I only hope it won’t bother mom.

            My mother began to ask me to help around the condo more since I am able to move with less restrictions. I still feel pain as it knots up like a baseball when I move wrong or stumble. I have gotten past the part where my entire leg gives out and I collapse to the ground. Mom is determined to teach me the right way to help her do things. Like, apparently, certain shirts go on certain colored hangers. After that conversation I spent the next hour organizing my own closet to match my mothers. I thought she was crazy at first, but I find that the color coordination of the hangers to clothes soothes me when I look into my closet. She also started to bring home more healthy food and I continue to cook with her. I didn’t realize how much I missed the clean eating until I started to give up the junk food and treats she often bought me on my worst days of pain. If I can preach to anything, it is that nothing soothes pain like orange chicken and fried rice. 

The walks to and from my secret dates have helped me to not feel like a complete slob and I lie to myself to say it’s basically like doing my physical therapy. I justify this because the walk always starts with pain and ends with relief after I push through the misery, just like both the mental and physical therapy. I probably need to work on my health some more, but I’ll let future me deal with that.

A SL and PoS post.

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