Analyzing

These last few weeks of school have been so busy. Projects, papers, tests, analysis. All good signs pointing to the fact that the semester is almost over and I almost. Three more semesters . . . .thank God.

For my last paper in my Dependency class, I am reading a memoir about a woman who survives a horrible childhood, marries, has a baby, becomes a drunk, gets sober, goes mad, gets sane and divorces and moves on. 386 pages from broken to about whole. I then analyze how it parallels my own life and why did I choose it. Isn't that obvious? Easy A.

So, since I almost always put off everything until the last minute, I have spent all day reading. And reading. And reading. And thinking. Ah!!! Thinking. Now that's never a good thing. But required for this. But now that I'm about done (Yes, I admit, I skipped some parts. She did add a lot of unnecessary details), I haven't been thinking as much as remembering.

Her mother set fire to stuffed animals, my mom had me climb onto the back of the car, hold on to the lip between the trunk and the window while she did doughnuts in the parking lot. NO reason, just because.

The ups and downs so extreme with my Mother, it's no surprise how much I hate roller coasters to this day. I spent enough time on one in my childhood. But in the book, about page 212 the author is speaking to her sister, "I'm just like Mother" "You are nothing like Mother" her sister tells her.

I've always feared I was just like my Mom. Slightly crazy, never quite there, always teetering between complete madness and slight craziness. I am even brave enough to admit I sought out a psychologist and had a whole panel of testing done. I was deemed okay, mentally healthy. I'm just quirky.

But it always lingers there, in the back of my mind, taunting me. "It's genetic" Except in our case, it's not. Her's was brought on by her life. My life has had some bad moments, but nothing compared to hers. Just as my daughter's life in no way resembles my childhood.

Each generation working to get healthier.

It's been a tough semester. Not academically, but emotionally. My professors warned us of this beforehand: We must purge what is in you that will keep you from helping others.

And I'm grateful for that. Even if it sucks sometimes. I'm grateful for the hollowing out and the refilling.

Today isn't the greatest day I've ever had. I'm actually quite grumpy, which I hate. But that's okay. It's normal to have these little bumps in the roads, the slight ups and downs. And as I have always told myself, if a nine year old girl can hold onto a small lip on a car between a trunk and a windshield while doing 360's and not fall off, why, she can accomplish anything.