9/365: Blank post

I'm sitting before the computer, ready to type up a nice, little blog entry, but am not sure what to write. I don't know why, but the only thing that keeps coming to mind are memories of my mom not listening, not really paying attention sometimes. Actually, on a pretty regular basis. I could say it's the price of a working mother, but that's silly, because there are plenty of stay-at-home moms, now and in the past, that didn't pay enough attention to their kids, or dads, for that matter. I have a good mom in many, many ways, but -- surprise, surprise -- she was not perfect. And being preoccupied was just one of her things, I guess.

So I just stepped away for a moment to journal about some of the memories I'm talking about, memories that are really just too personal to put on a blog. Suffice to say that these particular memories highlight mom not listening to or making steps to meet my needs (one slightly more neutral example - not taking me to the eye doctor for about a year even though I kept saying I couldn't see until an uncle scolded her and said she should take me to the eye doctor. She did, and I got glasses). To be fair, there are many, many more instances of mom taking care of me (either directly or indirectly). If I had a marble for every time she DID take care of me in one jar, and a marble for every time she did NOT take care of me, I'm pretty confident that the positive jar would be much, much bigger than the other one.

Nevertheless, the jar of bad marbles would be in some pretty important areas - critical ones, even. So even though it's important to me to not demonize my mom, I have to honor myself, too, and figure out what went wrong where, and see if and how it relates to my current state of affairs.

Basically, I'm treating my body as my mom would treat it. I don't pay any attention to it, take time to exercise, etc. Now, this is how my mom would treat MY body. The subject of another blog entry, perhaps, would be the difference between how she treats her body vs. how she would treat my body if it were hers. I don't know if that makes sense, or if I could possibly deconstruct the matter any further.

As far as her body goes, she is thin, even too thin, because she doesn't eat enough, honestly, to the point of health concerns. Plus, she gives her body no quarter - up early in the morning, stays up late at nite, very little (if any) rest in between. Doctor says, "you had this operation or that operation and need to stay in bed for 3-4 weeks"? Not my mom - within days she's up and about, going to this meeting or that. Doctor says, "this medicine is exactly what you need, but it'll make you sleepy for a couple of days"? Not my mom - she'll argue with the doctor until s/he prescribes something that may be slightly less effective (meaning she'll feel more pain, more discomfort, take her longer to heal or whatever) but at least she'll make that committee meeting on Tuesday which could not possibly go on without her.

So bla bla bla - as worried as this makes the entire family when mom has some medical procedure or another, it still doesn't answer why I am treating MY body like that. Why am I treating my body like mom does hers, or would mine? I'm serious, I have to think about that - why?

P.S. Well, for somebody that didn't have anything to write about, I certainly stumbled across something, ey?