and our mothers are our models for ourselves,
what does that say about me?
I never knew my father,
and my mother was an abusive addict,
who probably had undiagnosed manic depression.
and here I am, helping my daughter with her homework,
while I don't have one single memory of even doing homework,
let alone my mother helping me with it.
my major mission has been being the opposite
of those selfish, idle idols, but
my serious struggles are still patience and presence.
the lack of patience I get from my mother,
and the challenge of being present
I get from fear.
it's a battle buried in me at a cellular level,
harder won than sobriety and cancer combined,
but I will never stop praying to the past to save the future.