Mom's 50th

I’m trying to write it down pretty but it just wasn’t.
This weekend has left me feeling such a mixture of shame, glory, indulgence, thankfulness and embarrassment. I know one thing…this one goes out to my Hugo for holding my hand through all of it, even if he did participate in the Carrie roast a little. If you’re going to be roasted by a room full of people it might as well be drunken family members who you know live you anyways, or maybe for it although they’ll never admit it! I wore my dark sunglasses and it was night. Of course three hours later found me jerking upwards from sleep in a cold sweat in the full throngs of a full on panic attack. I think it was my first real one. I had to talk to myself and rationalize the voices down. I had to say over and over again that I can do it, I can get through this week, I can get through this panel and this semester and be in a better place if I just hang on and focus a little more. Last night felt like an eventuality that I already knew I was heading towards. It was like all of a sudden I was in the middle of it and I was shocked and scared and didn’t think it was possible to be that scarred and overwhelmed. It was horrible, I won’t lie, it was bad. But the point is, I was up this morning and it was a distant memory hidden under my night’s black veil. And so I go on…

My mother is…

50
blonde
short
a traveler
in a relationship with a woman
still trying to heal
lucky to have me as a daughter
kind of dramatic
loud
quite
sweet
mean
a diva
younger than ever
dysfunctional
obsessive
lovely
so young
beautiful!