“You’re not fooling me with that blush you put on your cheeks. I know you’re still pale. Come eat something.”
Well, wouldn’t you be happy to have a mother telling you that just one last time?
I envy you, who’s mother’s alive and well. A day after my mom left for the hereinafter, on the damned October of 2004 eight years after my dad has, I forced myself to eat two soft-boiled eggs to please her. Now she can a l w a y s see me. Like in that Woody Allen film, with his mom in the sky, nagging him everywhere he went.
She had always made me two of the most delicious eggs every morning, emptying them into a lovely old-fashioned porcelain British tea-cup, with some melted butter and a pinch of salt.
I still wonder, how the heck, in the coldest of winter dawns, she managed to serve them hot and nice. I tried that just once on the autumn of 2004, and they got cold in an instant.
Never tried again.
As much as I love cooking and even won a Skippy peanut butter cooking contest that proved my children don’t flatter me in vain, I have failed this one simple memory recreating task in a rather disgraceful manner.
So I lost my appetite for about a year, not to mention my sleep, my clients, and my famous good cheer.
If it weren’t for my children, I would have never gotten out of bed or wear makeup.
So, a year and 26 pound (less) later, I tried gaining some weight back to keep my old 26 size pants from falling of.
I managed gaining a pound a month for a while, and went back to old Gloomland. It was nice and cosy and I knew the drill.
No sleep at night. No appetite at day. Much work at home. Lots of car pooling in the afternoons. Lots of questionnaires to check how depressed I am and what to eat and take in order to be at least a shadow of my old self.
Later on, eating junk food (mainly bread and pastries) didn’t get me any pounds. And as to add insult to an injury, I had the irritable bowl syndrome. That had brought my sometimes successful efforts to gain weight ( and health) to an end.
Six years and a cardiac event later, When I was certain I was soon to join my mom, I found out I had Celiac. So my body didn’t get to absorb any of the foods and food supplements I devoured. My body’s various systems where deteriorating severely.
A month after eating gluten-free food and endless supplements, I gained about eight blissful pounds and my good cheer.
A year and 24 pounds later, I was back to my 26 size pants, and my heart was beating regularly 24 hours a day. So no wonder I never wanted to indulge in a stressful occupation again. I just wanted to live.
So now, a couple of years later, all I want is to give whoever needs it some motherly advice. Just be here for you that feel lost and need to share his or her sorrows, trouble, indecision and hopefully joys and good fortune, too. Just be there. Like a good loving purehearted Mom.
And hopefully, others will join in to give a helping hand to those who need it, so we can create a supportive community for those who need some motherly advice.
So if you don’t have a mother or can’t get some motherly advice from her, I will happily lend you mine. Of course, I am not a professional therapist of any kind. So this is not consultation of a professional nature of any kind whatsoever.
But I’m here for you. So start posting.
You can also contact me by mail/Facebook/this blog.
I’m here to give you unconditional non-judgemental motherly support and advice.