Monday, Monday

I had a conversation with a coworker today who I just really enjoy talking to. We have these pretty deep conversations about the losses we've experienced (among other things). He has been incredibly supportive in my weight loss journey and one of the things we talked about this morning was about my thoughts last week with regards to my mom and my success and would I have been this successful if she were still alive. He lost his brother about 5 years ago to suicide. And so here it is, 5 years out, that he can vocalize a "thank you" to his brother for dying and relieving the burden from him and his mother. He is so much more content in his life because he was very involved in helping his brother with his depression and it was really quite an exhausting task. And without that burden he's been free to be content and happy and grow and explore other aspects of his life that he'd have never had time for before. There was actually a great deal of relief for me in this conversation with him...to know that it's not awful to feel this way and think these thoughts. That it's normal, that it's ok.

The school nurse also called this morning...by 10 a.m. It seems that my son was down in her office complaining of a headache and said he was sick all weekend. He wasn't. I had a fear this would become a more regular thing (his going to the nurse) after last week when he went to the nurse on Thursday and I had to leave to pick him up. No fever either time, and last time was a tummy ache. I am so torn most of the time. I was like this as a kid as well. I had tummy aches all the time. I wanted to be home, mostly with my mom. My mom traveled just about every week for business...she'd leave Sunday night and return home Friday night. We had a nanny that lived with us Sunday night through Friday as a result. My son has had me home with him day in and day out since he was born. I can count on one hand the number of times I've traveled for business. All of these years I thought that my anxiety and homesickness came from my mom not being around much. I have been forced to recognize that there is a much larger biological component to this than I ever thought. My son's experience growing up has been so much different than mine, and yet he still has these feelings. I really hope that he can learn coping skills I didn't have...I don't want him to feel the things I felt about myself growing up. And sometimes, my greatest fear is that despite my best efforts to stop the cycle of abuse and damage, I will have failed with the person I love the most.