There are times when nothing prepares you for the moment at hand. And there are moments in life when we have to act. But at the same time, there are times when we stall, or we pause, or we fail to move or take an active step. There are times when we wish that we had said what was in our hearts. Or maybe we thought that somehow, we’d always get another chance.
But life is funny this way.
Isn’t it?
For example, I was thinking about the days when I was handling my Mother’s affairs. There were times when this was hard and times when this was frustrating.
There were times when Mom was belligerent to the staff and there were bouts with the team at her elder care place.
There were times when she was too confused or too far gone to understand my explanations.
The crazy part about this was the role reversal. She’s Mom, yet I was the one in charge.
But again, life is funny this way.
Right?
There were times when we argued and Mom would hang up. I was not as patient as I could have been (or should have been) but there were hard times and yes, I admit it. It was hard to repeat myself or say the same thing.
I assumed it was best to let the arguments blow over. At the same time, nothing ever really blew over. Instead, the challenges began to pile on and Mom’s frustration was frustrating to me.
She never wanted this, by the way.
Mom’s worst fear was to be a burden to her children.
At the same time, life can be a burden.
Poor health can be even more burdensome and to be clear, add the start of dementia, and then couple this with pain management medication, and then add the five painful diseases in Mom’s spine and the fact remains that age is not always a kind thing either. Yes, age can be burdensome too.
The conversations were not the way they used to be. Mom and I hardly laughed or talked about lighthearted things. There was always a problem with the nursing staff. There was always a problem with Mom’s medication—not to mention she fell, which made Mom a fall risk, and this led to a slew of other challenges.
Mom would often catch infections and more than this, and please allow me to be clear, what I am about to uncover is still very painful for me because I reveal this as a member of the recovery world.
Also, I uncover this as someone who has enough substance and alcohol disorder history in my own life and I am someone who has a few credentials which is enough to call myself a specialist —but I digress.
Mom’s deterioration was pushed and accelerated as a result of the opiates and the different pain medications.
Alongside the debilitation of her spine, these drugs also robbed my Mother of her true self.
She was worried and paranoid. She was uncomfortable and out of control. But keep in mind, my Mother was a strong woman.
She ran a tough business in a male dominated industry. Mom was a hero to say the least. But more than anything, Mom was the one who never quit on me. She never gave up. She never stopped believing in me and to this day, Mom was my biggest fan.
Who would ever believe in me like this?
Who else would cheer me on, no matter what?
Even if I fell and failed worse than ever; Mom was there.
Even if I hurt and I lied, Mom refused to leave my side.
Even when I was the worst version of myself, Mom never gave up.
She refused to leave me.
It was only right that I took the role of her healthcare proxy.
However, I always thought there would be room for a talk or time for an apology or to smooth things over.
I always thought, “I’ll tell her when we talk on the phone.”
“I’ll tell her when we speak the next time.”
One day, a nurse called me.
She asked me the typical questions to be sure she had the right person on the phone.
I remember thinking about the problems with the nurses and the arguments that Mom had with some of the doctors. I remember thinking to myself, “What did she do now?”
And I even asked that question.
Mom was in Florida.
I was in New York.
Back to the question of being a burden or if this was burdensome, I suppose I was too frustrated to realize how precious time can be.
Was Mom a burden?
No?
But life is.
I rolled my eyes and asked what the problem was . . .
The nurse paused with a moment of seriousness.
“You better get down here.”
Mom was dying.
I never had the chance to say I was sorry.
I never had the chance to tell her that she was one of my biggest heroes.
I never had the chance to let her know how much I loved her or that sometimes, life gets to me, and sometimes, my anxiety and frustration gets the best of me.
I never had the chance to tell her that I never meant the angry thing that I said. . .
I know this does nothing else but make me human.
I know that we say things we don’t mean.
But why?
I never understood this.
I never had the chance to tell Mom about a lot of things.
I never had the chance to tell my Old Man that he was my first hero.
I never had the chance to tell him that I was sorry, or that I was afraid, or that I wanted to be good.
I really did.
I didn’t want us to argue or fight. I didn’t want to be “that kid’ in the town and I didn’t want to be that family secret, which I was.
I didn’t want to embarrass or humiliate him.
I wished I was different.
I wished I was more like his favorite son. But no, like the prodigal son, I went off and squandered my life and my worth and when I returned home—it was too late to recover what was left.
I often said that I will take my shot when the time was right.
I often said that I will be happy when the times change and the playing field is kinder to me.
I cannot wait for the stars to align or for the moon to be full.
I can’t wait for timing to be kind either because sometimes, timing is never kind enough to allow for an opening, which means to hell with timing.
I’ll make my own time.
I’ll have to start now though.
I lost years. No wait.
I lost decades of my life because I was waiting for the time “when” the world would be on my side.
I wasted love. I wasted effort.
I hurt people.
And I was hurt too.
I can’t wait for the moment “when” time will be fair enough or that everything is okay, so—I have to learn that “when” has to become now.
I still don’t know why we fight with the people we love. I don’t know why we destroy the best part of the relationships we have with the people we love the most.
I do understand that everything has a course. We all have a beginning, a middle, and an end.
And maybe this is law. . .
But maybe we can attach something to amend this law by creating a better in-between –
To relieve us from the resentment of guilt
To forgive our faults
To realize that we are all nothing more than imperfectly human
Thus, perhaps we can allow for a better shade of forgiveness to rid us from the unneeded banter that takes off in our head.
I have always been a fight fan.
Something that I often hear fighters say is “never leave anything up to the judges.”
If you’re going to win, you have to win convincingly.
Okay . . .
I’m not leaving anything up to the judges anymore.
Mean what I say
Say what I mean
And leave nothing up to judgment.
You hear me out there?
Even unconditional love has conditions . . .
At least thar’s what Mom used to tell me
But she never told me what the conditions are.
She just loved me.
But hey, maybe that’s one of the conditions.
Or maybe that’s the first condition—
You think?
The Written Addiction 