Dear Mom,

You always had an incredible amount of positivity despite all of the shit that you went through.

Having your first child born with a severe birth defect, and then losing that child 21 years later, couldn’t have been easy. When I was growing up I rarely saw you breakdown. Not even when you were diagnosed with a Stage 4 Glioblastoma Brain Tumor.

Sure, there were times during your 5 years of being sick when you confided in me and talked about how shitty you felt. You even struggled with depression in the beginning. But it wasn’t until the very end, after the last brain surgery and the mini strokes that gave you the truly awful condition of Left Neglect, that you finally began to talk about dying. You were afraid and didn’t want to die. You also knew that it was time to stop fighting, even if you weren’t ready to give up.

I’ll never forget the conversation we had at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago when you apologized for leaving me without a mother so young. You felt so badly that you weren’t going to make it to my wedding. When you knew that death was waiting around the corner, you stopped to think about your children. That’s the kind of person you were.

You always put others before you and didn’t sweat the small stuff. In fact, you didn’t really sweat the big stuff either. Life to you was always a journey, one that you lived to its fullest potential.

I bring this all up because I find myself struggling with my endless attempts to be like you. I’ve always wanted people to think of me as optimistic. As someone who takes one day at a time and sees struggles as learning experiences, as blessings in disguise.

In the past I have come close to being that person.

When your end became inevitable, I went all-in with a lifestyle that would help me stay positive. I turned to Yoga and Meditation. I dealt with the most devastating time in my life through breathing. I didn’t turn to alcohol. I didn’t drown my sorrows. I cried. A lot. I also opened myself to the tiniest bit of spirituality. I told myself that you were still with me. I came from you, therefore I am an extension of you and you will always be a part of me. I convinced myself that all I had to do was think of you and you’d be listening.

This mentality is what got me through your death. But now, almost 2 years later, I’m finding myself sinking back into old habits. I’m getting too comfortable with negativity. When I eat dinner with Jeremy I complain to him about work. When people ask me how I’m feeling, I often tell the truth. I say good but… I’m exhausted/I’m in pain/I’m ready for it to be over. When people ask me about how I like Chicago I tell them the truth. I’m happy but… I miss Los Angeles/Not looking forward to winter/it’s not what I expected. I feel like I’m constantly finding the worst part of every situation. And I absolutely hate it. I can’t stand this feeling of pessimism.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, there are lot of terrible things happening in the world. A lot of ignorant people saying stupid shit. A lot of hate and prejudice and sexism and homophobia. So how do I see the positive in such an ugly world?

When I left Los Angeles I left behind a community of positive, loving people. I had friends there who had my back and who could talk to me for hours about positive thinking and mindfulness and spirituality. We could talk freely about our feelings without judgment often helping each other come to conclusions to solve problems in our lives. I know that I still have those friends in my life, but they feel so far away. Without them, without the palm trees and my old apartment with its natural sunlight and cross breeze, I find myself getting more and more negative. When I’m home I feel sad. It’s dark in my apartment. No good natural lighting. I hate air conditioning but if I open the windows I get no cross breeze so it heats up rather quickly. I’m getting to know more people, but I don’t have a group of friends here like I had there, and that’s rough.

As I approach a significant change in my life, the importance of finding happiness is weighing on me. I’m not saying that I am depressed. In fact, I’m extremely excited for the future. I can’t wait for my baby to come into this world. I can’t wait for motherhood. But I also know that this is a bigger issue for me. I need to find happiness with myself first. I can’t rely on my unborn child to solve that problem for me.

And I’m not entirely sure if happiness is the right word to use. I’m by no means unhappy. I guess I’m looking for optimism. I’m looking to find the brighter side of things. I’m looking to be more like you. Your optimism and positivity was powerful. I truly believe your outlook on life and the way you tackled your roadblocks is a big reason that you survived 4 years later than the doctors had initially expected. I want that. I need it.

So, as I’ve done so many times before, I’m going to make a commitment to change. These are a few ideas I have…

1.     Bringing meditation into my life, and I don’t mean listening to an APP on my phone for two weeks. I’m going to read up on mediation and walk into one of the many mediation places in my neighborhood and take a class.

2.     Yoga. As soon as I’m cleared to workout I am going to start taking yoga classes again. I’m going to try a whole bunch of different ones until I find the right fit for me. And who knows, maybe if it helps me enough I will add a Yoga Certification into my fitness portfolio in the future.

3.     Plants. I am going to bring plants into my home. When you died, my coworkers at the time got me a Peace Lily plant. I nearly killed that thing on a monthly basis for the time I had it. It wouldn’t give up. I threw it away before we moved, thinking that would be an odd thing to bring on the plane. I need something living in here. Something to help me breathe.

4.     Gardening. I don’t care that the only space I have outdoors is a pitiful back porch with absolutely no sunlight. Something will grow there.

5.     Find/surround myself with “good people”. I’ve found positive people who make me happy in every place I’ve ever lived. I know I will find them here. I just need to be open.

I must understand that this list is a progression. I am a progression. It might take me a while to get to all of this, some may never happen, and some may become different ideas all together.  And that’s OK. What’s important to my well-being is that I try.

And, if I have somehow depressed you this week, I apologize. I want this to be a shedding of my negativity. I want this moment to be the new beginning I’ve been in need of lately.

To end on a more positive note I will now tell you something that I am happy about and grateful for today.

Today, 36 weeks pregnant, I can still wash my feet in the shower without holding on to anything. I still have the balance and coordination to stand on one leg. I’ll credit Pilates for that, but it does make me feel like I can conquer anything.

I love you, Mom

Rachel