Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Sound Bite

Lately I have felt as if someone stole my mojo. I am tired. I am run down. It is hard for me to get a good workout in because all I really want to do is nap. Doing everyday tasks that involve errands and cleaning the house seem almost impossible. I have learned that I have to watch myself, for it is at these times that, if I ignore these signs and push too much, I get sick.

Today was a day where getting out of bed was a struggle. I wanted to ignore my responsibilities and snuggle down in my bed for another hour. Instead, I got up and fed the kids, got them ready for school and shuffled them out the door. Then I went to work out, but lifting insane amounts of weight wasn't happening today. I did work out, but I had to be ok with a mediocre lift and a slow workout with lighter weight than usual. This is the opposite of what CrossFit is all about- breaking through those whiny days and just doing it. Pushing hard, breaking down walls, challenging your mental state of mind. Yet today, I had to listen to me, not what I believed was “expected.” Mojo never showed up during that lift or the workout. It was still missing.

Then off to run an errand and then to visit my mom. Everything is “ho hum,” and I am locked away in a sort of haze as a drive to my mom's. After I park my car, I see an email from a friend telling me that they saw my newest installment on the Enews for the Alzheimer's Association of Greater Indiana. A quick proud moment and, boom, it's gone. I had not even read it since it had been published in the Enews, which is strange for me. I go in to visit my mom and the Director of the Memory Ward where my mom lives commented on it and said he forwarded it on to staff and all the families who have loved ones living there. Barely a tick on the pride meter.

I have a visit with my mom. I find her talking to “The Lady in the Mirror,” and she says to her own reflection, “That young woman? She is my daughter. Isn't she nice?” I say hello to her “friend” and we go and sit and have lunch together. My mom is not in a good mood today. She is irritable. I have to help the nurses out by getting her to take her meds that she refused to take earlier. Then we sit and she talks incessantly about how sad she is. She cries. I comfort her. She says she misses having friends. As she points around the room and tells me that these “people,” who are merely hallucinations, are nice and all, but they don't have anything in common, I comfort her some more. This isn't helping my lack of mojo. In fact, I think someone stole hers today as well. There’s no point in giving you details of the conversation. You only need to know that I seemed to join my mom in her sad, confused haze. A lot of what she said didn’t make sense to me, but there were enough pieces of today's puzzle in place that I could figure out the meaning behind it.

Yes, she hasn't had true friends for many, many years. She seemed to realize this today. My mom explained in her broken way of conversation that she misses talking and just “being” with people who are like her. People who are interested in the same things that she is, who eat the type of foods that she does. She misses true companionship. I am not even sure what my mom would consider her interests to be today. They used to be reading, art, gardening, counseling, and being a mom. Now...I don't know. Again, it was a sad scene. Yet, there was a bright light at the end of this weary tunnel of a day.

Today my mom said my name. Sounds so simple and it is. I have not heard my mom say “Molly” in probably over a year. I have been a label - my daughter, hon, you, her, my mother, this lady.... but not Molly. This is what made my day more joyful than the fact that something I wrote was being sent to thousands to read. Just hearing my mom say my name again was pure happiness. I want to take that sound bite and lock it away, put it on repeat, and listen to it over and over.

Sometimes the things that matter are not the “things” that we often believe matter most. Today it wasn't the awesome breakfast I ate or the workout I did. It wasn't my own excitement and pride in a personal accomplishment. It was simply hearing my mom say my name. That is what moved me to my core. I can see it in my mind and hear it as it rings through my heart and into my soul. The sweet sound of my name being spoken by my mother. I didn't realize how much it mattered, how much I missed it. 

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