I don't know whether watching endless amounts of the notebook clips to sappy love songs has compelled me to write this blog at 1:23 A.M. when I have to be up by 6 A.M. to teach tomorrow, or if it is the vast amount of work that has led me to pure insanity which has ultimately led me to use my writing as my venting tool. All I know is it's fall and I am happy.These days I seem to rely on people rather than my own self reflection to heal though I suppose this is part of the natural grieving process. Perhaps years of relying solely on my writing to cure my internal pains and troubles has led me to melt down weekly. At times I wonder if I am being abnormal, but then I remember what my two sessions with a therapist were like. As I entered the room I found myself analyzing her.
"The whole purpose of seeing someone is so that you can vent. Do not analyze yourself Alexis. Quit. It." I found my mind battling with itself to sit still and be quiet for once in it's overactive life.
The therapist sat analyzing what I communicated to her. This was all too familiar to me, the process of analysis.
"You are extremely hard on yourself. Do you realize that most people who have went through all you have would not be getting out of bed right now? You continue to survive you are the true definition of what that means. You have spent the last year of your life working two jobs, going full time for your M.A., writing a thesis, and watching your mom pass away in pain. You are a survivor." The therapist said encouraging me.
Like I hadn't gotten the comment too hard on yourself. As if I had no idea the struggles I faced, yet I failed to see how most people would fall down and not get back up. I simply refuse to ever be knocked down, but some days I feel knocked down. My mother was my everything. I suppose I stopped writing blogs because my mother was my main target audience. Every blog I wrote she'd smile and tell me what a wonderful writer I was. My mother saying this spoke volumes, because she was my greatest critic. What perhaps makes my experience that much more difficult is my interest area in research. I find that I have become one of the participants in the countless studies I have read. I have become a part of the patterns, and though I attempt to refuse my new identity role I can't escape it.
I will never have my mother at my wedding, thus my wedding has become meaningless to me. I fit typical gender roles as a child, always dreaming of prince charming. At seven I was convinced I would someday marry my hot, blonde, neighbor who's sisters babysat us. When he'd come over I'd put on my best dress up cloths, plastic high heels, and beg my mother to permit me to wear make up. Needless to say I was a knock out to this much older and mature male who I deemed my future husband. As I grew up I found myself searching consistently for prince charming only to be left heartbroken, abandoned, and dealing with my mother's death alone. My aspirations for prince charming diminished with failed relationships, reading journal articles, and coming to understand that there was no such thing as prince charming. That love songs and movies were fantasies to feed the mind with false hope.
The more I think about love, life, loss, and happiness I find that it is ultimately up to you to define these things to what you hold true. I may never have prince charming, but that isn't what is important. What do I desire? I believe that death of someone so amazing and dear to my heart has taught me what I really do want out of life. I want my own personal success, but I also want someone who is just as proud of me as my mother was. No one will ever love me or think as highly of me as my own mother, but I know that out there someone will be proud of me. Watching the notebook clips made me come to a new realization. I don't want extravagant. I don't want to be spoiled. I want someone to enjoy the simple things in life with. I want to watch sunsets, go to pumpkin patches, take long drives, have little flowers picked from outside laying on my bed in the morning after a night of cuddling and conversing about life, and I want to feel happy just doing whatever. It isn't about what you have, it is about who you have. I was blessed enough to have someone who loved me with everything they were for 22 years of my life. I still have several people alive who care about me and who consistently sacrifice for me. My dad works his butt off to show us that he will provide and do anything he can. I have a brother who is the strongest kid I know who reminds me so much of my mom's kind heart. I have the love of so many people and for that I'm eternally grateful.
Life isn't intended to be perfect. We are imperfect and we all must suffer turmoil at some point in our lives. I just want to remind everyone of my love for them and that you don't have to have a picture perfect life for it to be wonderful. I live with a smile on my face and constantly fighting past the struggles, because that is what my mom would do and did. She fought a battle for 5 years, hardly ever complaining with courage and I hope to model her so that I can keep her memory alive and let the world see what a tremendous mentor and best friend I had. With tears in my eyes I finish this blog and hope to remind you all to take a moment to step back and take a deep breath of fresh air and remember how beautiful the simple things are.
<3
Alexis Zoe
