Reality

This time of year always tends to be a little difficult for me for many reasons. My mom, JoAnne, died over 10 years ago and the holidays were "her thing."  Seriously, when I was growing up, every room in our house was decorated, including the bathroom. We're not talking gaudy, awful decorations, they were actually pretty tasteful (I think Modern Display and Nordstrom lost a lot of commission and stock when JoAnne died). 

 I have lots of memories about Jo (I hardly ever referred to my parents as "mom and dad" but rather "Dave and JoAnne"...go figure).  Anyway, I recall the Christmas before she died, she knew she was terminal and told Big Wave Dave that she wanted a lot of trees that year.  That was Christmas 1998.  I remember walking into the house after work that night, and thinking, "Good Lord it looks like Thomas Kincaid threw up in here!"  But that's what Jo wanted, lots of trees, big and small and not so real.  Reality was scary that year.  I get that now.  When it was all said and done, we had 74  ( that's right...SEVENTY-FOUR) trees! Big Wave Dave called it the "damn forest."  

I guess my reason for telling that story is because I get why she was scared of reality.  As I've said in my earlier posts, I had no sense of reality for 12+ years due to a powerful combination of drugs that my doctors told me I NEEDED to survive or that I needed to NOT be sad because my mom had cancer and was dying or had died.  I guess what I'm getting at is, this is the first Holiday season where I'm finally dealing with being without a mom.  I'm facing it. I'm angry about it, I'm sad...and I realize it's scary, and it's actually okay to feel that way.  Reality does suck.  Much like my mom, I'm surrounding myself with good things. For me, my boyfriend has kept me sane (well as sane as I can be). My roommate has been amazing...Misty lets me have my breakdowns, and then drags my sorry ass outta bed and keeps me going.  See? I'm surrounded by good things. My family is also fantastic. My nephews, Jake and Ben make me so happy.  Those boys crack me up.  Jake (5 years old) calls me a few times a week, unknown to his parents, just to say "hey".  Then, he usually invites me over to, and I quote, "Bake me some cookies, or maybe brownies, because I'm a good kid."  They are pure joy.  

This is my realization.