Any time we’re growing, it literally hurts. There has to be a cutoff point where you’re like, stop driving yourself crazy.Regina Slusher, a.k.a. my mom
My mom has talked me down off so many cliffs. In fact, I sort of picture her permanently in residence near the edge, sitting in a lawn chair, maybe reading one of the books she enjoys (aside from The Bible, she loves Amish romances and true-crime stories) and sipping from a bottle of Lipton Green Tea. She waits there patiently near the abyss while from time to time, sometimes more than once a day, I zoom through like the Roadrunner to eagerly embrace my doom.
Because of her, I’m more stable than I used to be. Let’s just admit it: Life leaves none of us unscarred. Having someone who can console you while also telling you to get your sh*t together (without actually saying that because my mother doesn’t swear *ever*) is one of life’s greatest gifts. It doesn’t escape me how incredibly blessed I am to have her in my life, even though she probably thinks she annoys me most of the time.
And I’m going to be honest, sometimes she does. But that’s only because I much prefer the uncharted path, the one that I choose for myself. And I discover every time that she was right, that I should have taken her advice, listened to her counsel, learned from her mistakes. But, my dear reader-friends, I’ve learned one time-tested and incontrovertible truth: There’s nothing quite like a scar to keep you from running barefoot through the brambles again.
Thanks for everything, mom. I promise I do try to listen to you.
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