All up in my feelings

This has always been a tough week for me. My mother’s birthday and Mother’s Day AND Nurses Day/Week all fall in one big clump. Even when she was alive, it was a minefield. There are no cards that say “Thanks for trying to be a good mom… I love you anyway.”

Circa 1973?

My mother struggled with mental illness her whole life. She was smart, sarcastic and a very talented nurse, so she was also good at masking her issues, until she couldn’t. She wasn’t all bad by any means, but her need to deny her challenges existed only made it harder on everyone. And the first part of May demands that I reflect and remember, whether I want to or not, whether it is convenient or not.

Here’s what I do know, and can celebrate:

  • My mother had a servant’s heart. She was a scout leader at least two different times in her life, she and my father ran the church youth group, she served on the altar guild at multiple churches, and she was her best self as a nurse. I am grateful for her example of servant leadership.
  • My mother was playful. My fondest memories are of playing in a creek, making snow angels, snowball fights, playing with puppies…
  • My mother was a voracious reader and made sure I learned to read early and often.
  • My mother was a gifted story-teller. When it was a personalized, crafted on the fly bedtime story, that was a good, loving thing.
  • My mother loved animals, and helped me remain a dog lover, despite several unfortunate encounters in my early childhood.
  • My mother was smart. Above-average intelligence was baseline, and I am still learning how far ahead of the curve she and so many people around me were.
  • My mother loved music, and cultivated the same in me. From Ella Fitzgerald to John Denver, she made sure I understood good music came in many forms.
  • My mother liked crafts. I remember macrame and latch hook, but she also taught me just about every type of embroidery there is. She didn’t knit, but she learned to crochet late in life. She wasn’t a great seamstress, but she was better with a sewing machine than I am.

We didn’t have a conventional relationship, but I do have fond memories. As time passes, I find myself remembering more of the good and less of the rest.

I wish those of you celebrating a Happy Mother’s Day, and for the rest of us, I hope for a pleasant day without drama.


So… I’ve gotten out of the habit of writing. Thank you COVID-19 and the shortened work week; I WILL use these days to put words on the screen. (Pen on paper? I don’t even remember the last time I wrote in a journal that way. Hmmm… I’m sure I have blank books hidden around here. Should I do that too?)

I’m also paying a lot of attention to my feet. No, not in a fetish kind of way. Holistically, functionally, our feet are taken for granted, or at least mine are. I’ve known for years that my weight, my hips, my knees and my back are all interdependent in ways I don’t even care to wholly understand, but for some reason, it took eaves dropping on a group training with some college athletes at my gym several weeks ago (you know, back when gyms were open and it was still safe, even healthy, to sweat with strangers in a closed space) for me to realize I need to wiggle my toes more.

My ankles, especially Mr. Right (who is really Mr. Most Likely to Complain), have been rigid and problematic for most of my life. My calf (the left, I think?) is the reason I stopped running last time and spent months (read: years) working on strength and mobility. My strength is good, and probably has always been better than average, but my mobility still is sub-par, and I’m using this time to roll my feet (body tempering) and do other foot and ankle movements, even when I’m just sitting still.

(As I type, I’m alternating great toes down while other toes are up, and hard for me, other toes down and big toes up. Try it. Is one movement easier than the other?)

I’m not watching a lot of network TV. Pandemic updates find me, and honestly, I am empathetic enough that I don’t need to wallow in fear and bad/sad news. As is usually the case, others have it much worse than I do, and I’m grateful for those who are not financially impacted by this sci-fi, life imitating art world we are in.

If you’re not seeing my Facebook posts, you may not know that Gretchen is sleeping, eating, running and hunting, not necessarily in that order. She still has a thing for lizards and snakes, but I doubt her reflexes are what they used to be, so more than ever, I’m trying to keep her safe. Thankfully, our vet re-opened yesterday, so at least I don’t have to keep plan B in my pocket, during their business hours.

How are you doing? Is there something we can do to make this easier for you?