I think things were pretty tough for my mom, after my dad died. I was 14 going on 30 and my brother had just turned 5. We never talked about it, and if any of us ever cried, it was alone, behind closed doors. She was a teacher, a natural leader and actively involved in the community. She put a lot of pressure on herself to be a “successful” single parent. And on us to exemplify stable, loving, balanced parenting and demonstrate that we came through the heartbreaking, early loss of our father unscathed… Interestingly, this seems to have produced two, exercise addicted, body obsessed, anorexic adults.
Anyway. My mother. She put every ounce of her being into us, often at her own expense.
Then, last year, John came into our lives. He helped her see her own value, finished projects started long before my dad even got sick. He told her she was the queen of her castle, and she believed him. When her drier broke, she came home to find it replaced. When her car was messy, he took it to be detailed (and let us drive his Caddy while he did). He sent her roses and signed the card “John F.” As if she might get roses from tons of guys named John. Every time I came to visit, he’d hug me and say “thank you for coming down, it makes your mom so happy.” And every time I left, I went home thinking “thank you higher powers for putting this man in my mother’s life.” John started Fathers Stand Up Corp, a not for profit, supporting family involvement, and he quickly put my mother on the board.
They were out at a club, promoting an event for his entertainment business, and John was shot to death at 2:14am yesterday morning. My heart breaks for my mom, but she won’t let me come down to see her. We grieve alone, remember?
Naturally, in a moment of such high emotion, anorexia was happy to take control. We’ll just starve and bendout ’till we pass out. She coaxed.
But I didn’t go for it. Nothing is permanent and nothing is guaranteed. What am I achieving, by restricting so intensely? I asked myself. And decided, to just live. To meet my own needs and even indulge my wants, within reason.
So. I went to Tijuana Flats
I also, let myself try the brownie batter stuffed donut that has been absolutely torturing me for weeks.
I skipped practice, for the first time in weeks, to go home, love on Rilind, and put some honest effort into repairing myself. That workbook isn’t exactly fun like Mickey Mouse, but I’m learning about living. And that’s pretty important.
This morning, I woke up and ate a healthy breakfast, before hitting the studio, where I dedicated my practice to John.
In the hot room, my most favorite teacher, gave my feet two thumbs up. And my body made it clear that it sides with Ana in the donut department, and next time I try to pass some crap like that off a “fuel” we are going to pass out during class.
*** this is the photo that Sean Robins tried to share in the comments.
*** my cousin did it too!!!!