Muddy Mamas

            I know this is a little overdue, but maybe because I am my mothers daughter (who commented just the other day that it takes a special person to give a belated birthday card a month later) or because I don’t like people telling me that on a certain day I need to celebrate my mom (not big on conformity, what can I say) or because I wasn’t in a writing mood and if I’m going to write about someone as important as my mom I want to do it justice. I have always had the most profound relationship with my mom. I know that most feel this way and I watch my friends with their moms and even Cliff and Amanda with Mom. I know that not everyone has this, though. Walking in the park with a client a month ago, I ask her how her day was and she instantly breaks down. She had just left her mothers, ‘my mom doesn’t like me.’ Wall, I hit a wall thrown completely off guard, how do I respond to that? It’s not something I could ever fathom, because when I look at my life all I see is support. What would it be like to feel like your mom didn’t love you? It shatters my heart (I think to myself surely her mom loves her, some people just never say it or don’t show how they feel), because then I think about my own mom. I stop by her house on the way home to sneak a hug and an I love you. Appreciating and feeling an even higher energy between us, because I know that I am loved. So thankful for how she has raised me (it’s like the first time me and my friends went to a strip club, I came home and told my mom and gave my mom a big hug for raising me the way she did). That is all I have ever gotten from my mom. Complete support and love, no matter what I throw at her. She let’s me take off across the country even though I don’t know where I’m going. She let’s me live in a shed (although initially she was skeptical, she came back hours later and told me she was wrong to point out that it wasn’t possible and if I want to do something then I should). She doesn’t put down my ideas, but encourages them to grow. I want a hammock in my shed; she goes and buys me one. Others think I’m nuts and don’t understand how my mom can let me do the things I do (Eunice wanted to meet with her after she ‘let’ me go couch surfing), but that’s how we are (like the post I wrote about mom and dad, they raised me to be inspired by not doing and letting me be and find myself). No matter what she is proud of me, there with a smile and hug, pushing me to live the life of my dreams. When I first started writing, I did it mostly so I could remember, but I always had her read them and tell me her thoughts. Of course she thought they were all good, just like she’ll always think and tell me that I’m beautiful. A proud mama, sometimes she’ll make me print a piece and hand it out to clients, making announcements before class telling people that there’s an article at the front that I’ve written. Always pushing and pumping me up. I want to build an obstacle course behind the shop. Instead of saying we can’t afford that, I think that’s a great idea! She makes announcements and someone volunteers to clear the property. She believes that for me nothing is impossible. She wants and encourages me to live my dreams. We are business partners, but she would let me go. We’ve talked about it, what if one day I just wanted to pack up to move across the country? She said she’d let me go in a heart beat. Even though it seems that our lives revolve around work, my mom realizes what is important in life.

           She is always telling me that no one works more on being good than me and dad, that she’s not there and she doesn’t read all the inspirational books that we do, ( she says reading my posts inspires her). She is afraid to accept that she is good too, she just has to see the meme and destroy it. She still wants to say that I will, instead of I am. She is there, though, on the verge of grasping possibility. I see this, she absolutely takes my breathe away when I watch her. It’s right there; sometimes she’ll look at me and say ‘all I have to do is change my thoughts.’ Bam, I’m back on the inspirational cloud that I live on with my parents, surrounded by positive energy. She IS inspiring. I know her and dad have always thought I had a great potential, but it has to come from somewhere. Here at work, or with the boys I watch. She just glows, beyond enigmatic, you can’t help but be drawn to her. She tells the best stories, with grand hand gestures and perfect inflection, you find yourself on the journey with her and usually end up rolling in laughs by the time you’re done. She’s zany and sometimes, sure, I get that child thing that she talks too much but that’s who she is. A mini Charlie. She knows me so well I don’t even have to say anything (not because we’re just alike either, we are connected yet different) and she knows what’s in my head, but I am the same with her. Growing up ‘shy’, I spent my life watching and picking up on energies and character. I know her completely by looking at her face, sometimes we don’t even have to talk to have a conversation. Its cliché, but really the bond we have is phenomenal. Like I know that this will make her cry and hug me, and that the reference to my grandpa will really make her cry most because any picture or mention of him strikes at her heart. She is the only person I would let set me up on a date, hell I would let her arrange a marriage for me, because she knows what I like (which is saying something as my tastes are quite eclectic and all over the place). I can confide in her for anything, we have no secrets. She is there every time I have a moment, putting the pieces back to together and helping me find my true self again. She and dad raised me to tell the truth and sometimes it almost scares me how honest our relationship has gotten. We have had mind-blowing conversations about love and life/death and addictions. We dealt with things that I thought were going to break me.

I used to think that I had to protect her, that she was somehow fragile. At my cousin’s funeral I refused to cry telling myself to be strong for my mother. When my grandpa crashed his car down the road from our house, I held her back. Anytime I thought she was overwhelmed I would give her a hug (not a known hugger so this shows value here), trying to absorb all of her pain or anxiety, because I thought it would be better for me to take it on. I have realized the last couple of months, that I do not need to protect her, she is STRONG. In the face of potential ‘failure’ she shines. Shoot, lately she has been the one picking me up. Last year when I started looking at my thoughts and memes, when it came to death I realized that I feared her death more than my own (that’s saying something too, to love someone so much that you’re afraid of losing them rather than yourself). Starting in middle school, for some reason, I always had this fear that I was going to ‘lose’ her. Every night before bed I would pray that god would watch over my family and protect them, especially my mom that nothing would happen to her. When I changed my thoughts on dying, not fearing my own and thinking of everyone as energy rather than physical, I realized that the fear was gone. How freeing it was to live in the moment, to be with my mom in the present time, instead of thinking that she may not be there some day. I just read this book ‘If I Stay’, it was a small book, but still thought provoking. The girl in the book is in a car accident, where her mother, father, and brother die and she is a coma with the choice: To stay or to go? Wow, this really brought back this thought I used to have. I loved in the book that it said that living is harder than dying. It’s true in death there is no worry or fear, but to live terrifies many. To be ourselves, to love, to challenge and try to live a life without memes and fears can be harder. Each day, though we have the choice to live or not. Whether we truly live or not is a result of our own decisions to stay. I do know, though, that my mother will always stay with me, even if she is not physically here.

          To celebrate her, I couldn’t just buy her something, it wouldn’t be enough. I know she’ll tell me the best thing I could ever give her, however. Experiences, these are the best gifts. I keep telling my friends I don’t want to go out any more to go to bars, that’s not where my head is. When I’m with my friends I want to BE with them, I want to do something, I want us to challenge ourselves, to discover something new, to talk. What did me and mom do then? The picture above, we did a Dirty Girl Mud Run. We met some of our former clients in Indy to participate in this run that went towards breast cancer. We had the best time, splashing in mud, crawling and climbing, being like little kids. It was wonderful! My favorite part, though was on the way there. She hadn’t been too excited to go, but in the car ride over she turns to me and says, ‘I know before I wasn’t into going, but I want you to know that this morning I realized I was excited because I get to do this with you.’ The obstacles and pushing ourselves through the challenges, cheering each other on was great, but just being there together made it special. Everyone thinks there mom and family is special, each has their own bond. Me and mom have our own connection, closer than I am to anyone else. She’s always there to guide, listen, support, love and let me be. She is absolutely beautiful and I love her always and forever (this is her signature that she texts me at least once a day).

BE, Love, Illuminate,




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