Feeling Emotional

As we near the end of the year, everyone is posting their decade photos - 2009 versus 2019 photos. I decided to look through facebook and find my 2009 photos. In 2009, I was 16 (December baby)... The changes in my body are dramatic. I suffered my first major injury the year prior, and went from being extremely thin, to thin. I was self-conscious then. Now I can't even imagine being that small again. My husband and I first met in the summer of 2009, apparently. Pictures from the first party we both attended popped up - I just keep noticing the differences in my body, in my smile, in my being. I held myself so differently back then. I was so proud, all the time. I was always keeping a happy front, always sucking in my stomach (even though I barely had one), and was always acting more confident than I was. Now I can barely look myself in the mirror, I don't want to wear make-up, I don't want to do the things I used to do. Part of it is the season, it's a rough time of year for me, and part of it is my physical body and limitations. I just don't feel good in my own skin, and when I see those photos, I feel worse. It feels unachievable. 

I haven't written much about my mom, it occurred to me earlier that a lot has happened in the past five years that I haven't written about. I really should have, I made the mistake of sharing emotions with family and friends... it was a terrible idea. I said things I didn't mean, and people still bring it up. I was angry, and upset, and I get it thrown in my face. My mom died of ovarian cancer that spread everywhere. She and I had the same doctor, and after she passed, my doctor insinuated that she'd been trying to get my mom to participate in diagnostics and treatment for some time. I died a little inside. My mom had forced me to watch her die, slowly, and painfully. She didn't want to tell me, or my siblings. She chose to die and she didn't try to spend her last time on earth with us, making memories. That's what I felt, and I shared that sentiment. I shouldn't have. After I processed my anger, I realized I was just sad. I was sad that I didn't see that she was dying. I was sad that I didn't spend more time with her. I was sad that we pushed her to receive end-of-life chemo. I was just sad she was gone. I was sad she wouldn't see me walk the stage at graduation, which was her life dream. I was sad she wouldn't see me get married, or have children. I was just sad. All anyone else could see was my anger, they looked at me and saw my temper tantrums. They judged me for being angry at a dead woman. I was only ever angry at myself. I watched her die. I didn't take her out, I didn't spend time with her, I didn't put the effort in.

My mom was admitted to the hospital on her birthday, December 17th, 2017. We celebrated Christmas in the hospital on Christmas Eve, we ate swiss chalet (her favourite) and she went in for surgery on Christmas day. A quick surgery to remove a bowel blockage, so we were told. I received a phone call on Christmas day, the doctor apologized and told me there was nothing she could do. The doctor told me my mother would die, any moment, and day, any week. Her bowels were going to rupture, they were riddled with cancer. It was the end. My mother died on New Years day, 2018. She died, and I was angry. I was upset. I was too many things. I miss her.