I am my Mom

I'm kidding. But when I look in the mirror at what my body has become (huge) and the shaking of my hands and head some mornings (I don't actually quite know why but it might have something to do with my farqed metabolism messing with my farqed familial tremors) -- well, there is some commonality.

My daughter noted to me with concern that my sister is starting to treat me like she did my Mom when Mom was sick and dependent. I've noticed that. But what my daughter doesn't seem to realize is that my sister, for reasons I still don't quite understand, tries to take care of the entire world. All the time. Even her clients. Maybe I could get her to visit my psychologist to find out why she does this. I like to believe that I help my sister out now and then. That would make us co-dependent, right? Is that really a bad thing between sisters who have been through as much as we have together?

My Mom was really creative. She could draw, paint, sew, knit, she was a Girl Scout leader, she could teach, she could sculpt (and got like a B+ on a sculpture in college because the idiot teacher thought she wasn't the one who created the sculpture she submitted for her final grade. What the idiot teacher did not know, was the snakes rising out of stone wall and facing each other - awesome, really, I'll have to put a picture of up soon - was actually supposed to be praying hands!) She had talent. She just wasn't as obsessive as I was/am about it. And, like I said before, she was a hell of a business woman.

I'm creative, too. But I'd rather be creating all the time and could really care less about business. I make enough money to support my crafting and keep an eye out for those I love and care about. That's good 'nuff for me. My Mom loved business, loved being a Realtor. If Parkinson's disease hadn't destroyed her life, she'd still be at now at the age of 75.

So, I'm not really my Mom. I'm working with an endocrinologist now to get my thyroid hormones stabilized since Hashimoto's disease (gotta tell ya, if you have to have a disease, that's a cool name for it, right?) is slowly killing my thyroid and metabolism. Eyeing the workout equipment and bringing it closer to where I spend most of my time. Changing my diet back to a more vegetarian one (that, incidentally, I really loved. Not sure why I stopped.)

So, daughter. Hang in there. Mama's on her way back. And she loves you very much.

And Mama ain't her Mom. :)