This morning, I had a revelation.
At 28 years old, I am not supposed to live with my mother.
Don't mistake this for ungratefulness. I can't adequately describe how grateful I am for the many, many sacrifices she has made for me. But when I started this blog, I promised honesty.
And honestly, Momma Bear is driving me nuts.
An hour doesn't go by where I'm not asked, "Are you drinking your juice?" And several times a day I'm reminded to take my supplements. "Am I eating enough food?" "Am I eating the right food?"
Even when I was a child, I was never grilled this much.
And this morning? Momma Bear barged into my bedroom and frantically asked if I was okay. I was in the bathroom. I can't even pee in peace.
Momma Bear has this insane amount of energy. And this child like excitement about the possibilities of the world (I now realize where I get that from...). She gets this glow, this high, from all the doors that have opened up because of my "situation." She's always had an interest in health and wellness and Little Hodgy has given her a new purpose. I'm glad getting cancer has helped her to focus on what she wants to do and how she spends her time.
But her energy can be exhausting.
She's like a shaken coke can that's ready to explode but no one will open the top. I wish I could open it for her, but right now my focus is much too narrow. My focus is on the present. My focus is on getting Little Hodgy the hell out of my body.
My focus is not on creating a documentary about alternative treatments. It is not on figuring out how to start a nonprofit to help people in similar situations. It is not on creating my own wellness center/yoga studio/raw foods cafe/magical healing center.
Right now, I have to be selfish. Right now, I can't focus on anything except my treatment.
Right now, I am stuck somewhere between being treated like a seven year old and this superwoman who is going to change the way we look at cancer treatment.
I am neither (although most parents probably view their children in the same way -- some days a little kid, other days, world conquerors).
I am one of many adults with an unfortunate diagnosis. An adult who made a decision, the best decision, for myself. I was not the first person to take this path nor will I be the last.
I am also an adult that has managed to both feed myself and stay hydrated on my own for a very long time. Imagine that -- maybe I am superwoman!
It really is amazing how much Momma Bear is gaining from this journey. She is learning more about who she is and realizing the possibilities of her passions -- passions that in the end will benefit me and my journey. I fully support and encourage this, even if I can't be on the same journey right now.
Right now, I'm on my own journey. A journey where I need Momma Bear's support but not her control. I need her to learn to let go. Momma Bear, I love you dearly, but it's time to cut the cord!
Please, keep pursuing your passions, but please, please let me pee in peace.