Well. Mommies say the best things, don’t they? I called my mom to just vent about my biological frustrations. I felt like I’d totally gone insane, and I didn’t want to be crazy with grief and self-loathing anymore.
It’s okay she said. She counted my blessings with me. She reassured me that perhaps my destiny was elsewhere. That I should write. That it was okay to take my time with it. That I still need to give my brain time to heal from the stroke, I’ve been pushing myself way too hard. That I should fulfill my dreams. That I was lucky in other ways. That I had one misfortune, but could still be fulfilled in other ways.
Her words were the kind of words spoken by a person who cared about nothing else but me.
My grief was not completely assuaged, but I felt like I was on an even keel afterward, like the ground had stopped pitching back and forth beneath my feet. Okay, I think I’m going to make it now.