MOM

It's taken me a long time to write about this. For some reason, I have survivors guilt. If you don't know me, you might ask, "Why would you have guilt for surviving?" Even asking, what did you survive to have guilt over?

I'm a cancer survivor. At the age of nine months, I was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, embryonic cell carcinoma...which was virtually a death sentence back in the mid-1970s.

I was fortunate enough not to remember most of what occurred as far as the "cancer treatments" go, however, the other stuff...the corrective surgeries, and the poking and prodding, and all the other fun things that went along with it, are firmly planted in my memory.

Why am I still focusing on something that happened such a long time ago? Well for certain, it forever changed the course of my life... Above all, I feel guilty for the fact that my parents had to endure all that they did. In my older years, I had a few missteps along the way, and I still beat myself up over the fact that I put them through additional pain and distress.

No one asks for a sick child. No one asks to have their lives turned upside down and forever changed with the constant doctor's appointments, and treatments and the fear. The fear of not knowing if your child is going to make it to see another day.

It's not right or fair, but it's what my parents had to incur...had to wake up every morning to...and somehow now in my adult-life, I feel guilty for it. My rational mind tells me...reminds me that none of this was my fault. But all the same it still hurts my heart that my mother, especially, had to endure what she did. The fact that I didn't lead a perfect life after all of it, makes me completely disgusted..with myself..

The other part of the guilt lies within those who I have lost...many of which were to the disease I survived. Why did I live and they died? Was I better at something, or nicer, or what?

A very close friend of mine passed away far too young, at the age of 16. She learned to drive, and shortly thereafter died. She was the kindest and most sincere person that I've EVER known. She loved me unconditionally and never complained about the raw hand she was dealt. We used to watch the tv show "Hunter" together...every night at 9 PM. She made me laugh, and challenged me to be a better person....and when she departed this earth over 17 years ago, she took a part of me with her...a part that has never fully recovered.

After all the things my parents went through...I was selfish enough to put my needs before their own...abandoned what I was taught... I never thought of anyone but myself.

In my opinion, my mother should be granted "saint-hood." She has always loved me unconditionally...stood by me when she knew that I was clearly wrong...supported me through every period of my life...without expecting anything in return.

I spent a very long time feeling sorry for myself; sorry that I wasn't a good enough person; sorry that I couldn't live up to the expectations I'd established; sorry that I couldn't have children, knowing that it was the only thing in my life that I have ever really hoped and prayed for.

My mother is my hero, my savior and above all, my ultimate strength. She may not always say what I want to hear, but she always says what should be.

She has been there for me from my birth, and been my confidante in my adult life. Within all of the things that I want and cannot have, she reminds me that being unselfish and pure within your life; putting family first; cherishing all that you have been given in this life, is far more important than the "things" that we don't have.

My mother held my hand through all of my treatments; and she held my hand firmly the day I found out for sure that I would never naturally be a mom. She's held me when I've cried; when I've triumphed over adversity; when I've had a bad day, she's supported me through words and emotional guestures. My mother has stood by me no matter what; no matter my faults; no matter my crude or sometimes angry comments; she's always been there to hold my hand in one way or another.

Even through all of the mistakes I have made, my mother and her conscience, and my own have had a deep and lasting impression.

So where does the guilt come into play for this whole equation?
I've always set the bar high. I have two leading examples (my parents) who have always achieved their goals.

Growing up, I was always told that if you hold a positive attitude and do what makes you happy, ultimately you will be successful.

I've always been hard on myself, competing with someone who truly does not exist. I've held onto demons from my younger years....holding onto the mean and hurtful things that people said to me when we were all children.

I'm ready now to let it all go. My heart and head are ready to move onto another chapter...I don't want to be so sad all of the time; or harbor ill will toward things that are completely out of my control.

I'm ready to let go. I'm ready to move forward.