copyright 2017 Chris Smith All right reserved.
"Let's assume, from this moment on, your support will be minimal at best."
Late morning I walked Mom to the bathroom. She tried to bite me. But this time I was ready for her.
"If you bite me, I'll bite you back," I said.
I screamed back and watched her whole body shift back on the toilet seat. Surprise. Surprise.
"What you do to me, I'll do back to you," I said in a fiery voice.
I thought, "Come at me. I've put up with your shit for months. I won't do it anymore. So try it and watch my response. You can't bulldoze me anymore Mother. I will come at you with my whole being. You want to fight? Let's go!"
Some days I wouldn't put up with her shit treatment of me and piss-poor attitude. The woman was no saint, to be sure. But this whole thing was beyond ridiculous. She was frustrated. I get it. But it didn't give her the right to abuse me. Verbally. Physically or otherwise.
We had a breakthrough. Mom ate a little breakfast. It was the first time, in over a week she'd eaten something. We put some mushrooms and onions ("Super Immunity" book) in the eggs. She ate four bites. I was shocked.
I kept posting photos and doing updates online to keep all those who were interested abreast of what was going on. It was like an online public journal. After writing the foreclosure book ("Is The Juice Worth The Squeeze?" Book 1), I had opened up all my channels to writing. So when I put my fingers on the keyboard now, I was not longer in control of what they said or didn't. It was almost as if the keyboard opened up a pipeline to my soul and anything was game.
I'm sure I said too much. I'm sure I was too honest, too raw, and too vulnerable. I'm sure I made people uncomfortable. But I didn't know how to write any other way. If there was a "right way" of doing all this, I'm sure I was doing it the wrong way. I was the wrong girl. The wrong daughter. The wrong human being. Everything about me was wrong. But I was the only person we had.
I took photos of Mom reading the cards people sent her in the mail, and photos of the juice we made and drank. I tried my best to document everything. I pushed myself to be "real" in my shares. I didn't know exactly where our journey would take us but I hoped it was a better place. I hoped it was a place of healing for my Mom.
I kept clicking photos and writing away. But mostly I felt like I was talking into a void. The only sound was my own voice echoing back in the darkness. It was hard not censor my thoughts. After a while, I think I wrote for my own sanity. I wrote to shed the feelings from my soul so I could take a breath. All those breaths were few and far between because every moment of my life was suffocating now.
But this was a whole different level of suffocation. This wasn't anything like the foreclosure ("Is The Juice Worth The Squeeze?" Book 1). This was so much worse.
Days Juicing: 14
I'm regularly posting new photos online, of Mom's Journey
Thank you for all the support, birthday gifts and wishes for Mom last month, help, love, prayers, positive thoughts, gifts, donations, ideas, etc.
WE APPRECIATE IT!
Blessings to you and yours,
Morning Shot - 14 DAYS OF JUICING - unknown day
Days Juicing: 14
Mom's been going through..basically a juice fast. Pretty intensive stuff.
Dad and I have been put through the ringer on this whole thing. Tough stuff.
If I was a "normal" person, with a "normal life" I would never have the time to help and support my Mom's healing, and my Dad's wellbeing.
So I am thankful, I AM NOT NORMAL.
I don't want to be normal...ever.
I can do things, to help my Mom, that no one else can do for her. Same goes for my Dad. Mostly, because of what I have been through in my own journey, my love for them, AND because I KNOW them.
Look, I'm not gonna lie. My Parents and I, have been through some very interesting...yeah...interesting times. We've had some battles, even with each other. And some of it, broke each of us, in different ways. No lie.
For whatever reason, and there are probably a lot of them, we've stuck together. There's something about the three of us, being together, something we're supposed to do, together.
I know this. I've always known it.
It is my destiny, to work with my Dad.
It, apparently is my destiny, to help my Mom in her healing.
Where the road goes from here? I wish I knew.
No matter what comes for us, in the night, we're together, and we're survivors.
There is no one else, I'd rather be with, or I'd choose to have my back, and be there for me. There is no one else I trust, like I trust them. They've seen the cracks, they've seen the break-ups, and the break-downs.
There is no one else I'd rather have in my foxhole....than my Parents.
Juice Day 14
4 leaves kale
4 leaves napa cabbage
¼ cup parsley
*Mom gulped down.
YOU ARE READING
A HARD RUN INTO HELL Book 4 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
I was standing in Hell, burning. I looked over to see my Dad, standing right next to me. He was burning too. We had brought my Mom home from the hospital and care facility, after being diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer and decided not to do chemo, ag...