In high school I was asked to write a report on the person who inspired me most.
Lots of people chose famous people, millionaires and political figures, I chose my Mom.
At the time I was a menace, an actual true disgrace of a human being. I was bullied and didn’t know how to deal or explain things that made sense, so I took it out on the people I loved most.
So, when I wrote the report about how much I cared for her, I felt like she didn’t fully know or understand how much I loved her and appreciated her at that time.
But if we are being honest here, the last time I was home in Manitoba, I was putting laundry away and I saw that she had that very report saved in her drawer. She knew. She knew how much I meant every single one of those words and she knew even with how miserable I could be, that I loved her more than anything.
I still feel the exact same way. I’m not as much of an asshole and treat people like the humans they deserve to be treated like. The way I would expect to be treated, as a human.
Being a teenager is hard.  Being a contributing member to society is… harder.
I always felt like I was going through everything alone, “because that’s the way humans are supposed to deal.”
But we aren’t, we are meant to lean on people when we need too, we are meant to show emotion, and to be communal, but for me it’s human instinct to pull away, to be alone and “deal”.
That is where depression and anxiety are a total BITCH.

Over the last month I have had more heart to hearts and real adult conversations with my Mom than I have had in 27 years, not because I didn’t want too before but because I felt like I couldn’t fully let go or let my mom know how much I struggle or how human I really am…for fear of disappointment.

I am human, we all are.

It’s okay to lean on the people in our lives and let them do things for us, I know that now.

I’ve always known that.  Period.
But haven’t ever wanted to admit that I needed help, because pride was in my way. I do that now, I tell people that I’m not okay and that I’m struggling.

Because…when you can’t do things, can’t get out of bed or just blatantly feel off, sometimes you just need to ask for help and it’s there.

It makes me sad to think that I needed grief to hit me like a fucking wrecking ball to know how many people I have to lean on.

Thank you, thank you to all of you.

But especially, thank you to my Mom.

Thank you for everything you have done for me and my family and OUR family in the last month.
Thank you for holding your shit together for me, when you didn’t need too.
Thank you for making wholesome foods and cleaning my home in a way that I would appreciate.
Thank you for being concerned more about my well-being than your own in some of those moments.
Thank you for holding my leg, crying with me and telling me I was doing a good job as I birthed our sweet Willa Bird.
Thank you for dealing with the hospital staff, that DIDN’T get it.
Thank you for telling me that, this experience is probably the hardest thing anyone would ever have to experience and just how strong we were and ARE.
Thank you for listening to my relentless rants, when I felt like I wasn’t being heard.
Thank you for being available whenever I need an ear.
Thank you for processing this whole FUCKED up experience with me.
Thank you for the photos of Willas tiny feet and loving AND cherishing every time Oakley cries along with me.
Thank you for supporting and loving myself and my family through this.
And Thank you for loving my GIRLS just as hard and as strong as you loved AND LOVE your three girls.

YOU my best friend, are the most selfless beautiful person I have ever met in my entire life.

And for you, I am thankful.


Happiest of birthdays to you, you beautiful soul.

I love you more than words or tears can describe.



And… final note, my teenage self, meant every single one of those words that I wrote to you.
I meant them and I mean them.

p.p.s No words could ever describe how thankful for you, I truly am.


2 Comments on “Mom

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