what doesnt kill us....

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, is such a BULLSHIT saying.

What doesn't immediately kill you,

 kills you slowly.

Slowly.

Methodically,

Painfully and raw.

Truth.
I write for my sanity.

I write to purge what binds me and I often urge others to do so too.
It helps.
It doesn't take all of the bricks off your back- it just lessons your load a little bit.
And some days a little bit is better than NOTHING.

Maybe sharing with others has them grabbing a few bricks...I like to think I am not alone.
But in the past few weeks,
Sitting in a crowded room,
I have NEVER felt so alone in my life.

I knew another truck load of shit was about to be dumped on me.
So what does Holly do?
She runs away to her safe place.
California.

Nirvana.

I spent 5 spectacular days with my daughter without a care in the world.
I woke up pretending that my bucket was empty and that the day was mine.

It worked.
It was without a doubt one of the finest little excursions I had taken in awhile.

I wonder if you have a daughter?

Did you follow the 1960 books that said to not become their friend?

I feel awful if you did that.

My daughter and my 4 sons are some of the best friends I could have ever asked for.

Yesterday as I bawled a river on top of my oldest sons shoulder, I was reminded of that.

I knew that my 6th surgery in 4 short years was waiting for me when I arrived home.
Signs kept telling me to cancel.
Like my flight home that was cancelled at the last minute.
I cried a little, but the strength of my daughter had me straighten up and enjoy that last hotel nights stay. Free concierge food and dancing in a robe in my room made me forget what the following day was about to bring.

I went to surgery alone.

Literally I took an Uber.

I like being alone.
I'm stronger alone, at least that is the BS I tell myself.
I got there by 5:30 am.
I knew a few nurses and doctors as I have been a regular there for years.

I bury my fear on the daily.
Its what I do.
Its how I cope.
I laugh and make fun of myself and it eases me into my next chapter.

I suppose surgery went fine.

I am alive...hahahahahahaha.
 And that was a good sign.

My husband picked me up and with the wonders of drugs I slept for the next few days.

Real life hit me when I removed my bandages.

Where breasts once stood, I was deformed.

Unsightly and frightening, I was a monster.

I went into shock and stayed there for days.

Right before Cali. My mom fell on her balcony.

My 87 year old feisty, bullheaded, German mamma was getting weaker.
She was diagnosed with a broken pelvis.

One thing about Holly that many of you don't realize is that I live in my very own la-la land. I like it here.
Free from everyday pain and struggles. Of course, I know the difference between my pretend reality and real life. Its just my Armour, And it suits me quite well.

I have kept my moms future hidden deep inside the technicolor movie of happiness, unicorns and rainbows.
But after this fall my world that I knew crumbled.

She could barely walk.

They gave her a walker and I brought her back to my house to recover.
What I refused to believe was that there was not going to be any recovery.

My mom has Alzheimer's.

It began simply by forgetting mundane things.
But yesterday she forgot that I was her daughter and said that I am for sure her sister.
Her demise was like a jump from the highest mountain in Austria.
So quick and sharp, raw and painful.
She was gone.
The "longest goodbye" my friend said.
OMG its TRUE.

  How does one go from killing it at Scrabble to not knowing what a Kleenex is?
After my drugs wore off, my mom was still here, sitting in the same chair asking the same crazy questions. How does she not know she's hungry? Just yesterday she did. She doesnt know my name, or where the bathroom is. She searched down the hall for her bra's and is flirting with everyone that has a penis. Maybe this is supposed to be funny. But damn I am not laughing.
Who is she?
I'm getting so upset. Who created this demise?

  "Why am I here?
 "Do I have a home?" "Who's walker is this?" 20 times a day...

 I think the day that crushed me to my core was the day that I had to bathe her.

COME ON.

I JUST HAD BREAST SURGERY.   Sutures from east to west....raging pain that once again no one decided to tell me about.

 I CANNOT MOVE MY ARMS WITHOUT A STABBING PAIN SHOOT THROUGH MY UPPER TORSO.  But helping my mom get her socks on? No problem.

This is not what I signed up for.
I am still wiping Nate's ass.
My fair share of unfair seems to have overflowed decades ago.

Must I remind you?

I was 18 when I had the luxury of watching my dad die from Cancer.
He begged me not to take him to the hospital while he was puking all over the house.
I took him, and yes he died there.
For those thinking..."Lose the guilt"....ummmmm good luck with that. Guilt is a stain that oozes through you're being. Cannot wish it away. Just try to make tomorrow better. To make up for past mistakes. To say "I love you" one more time.
.

Nate was born with Down Syndrome, almost died his 1st year. We spent most of our days sitting bedside praying for him to breathe.  Most people would crash and burn, but we had no choice.
We were a family with 5 little miracles that needed us to remain their strength.
Did I want to give up?
Holy shit- YES. A million times. 

My son Ben had an amniotic band wrapped around him in the womb. At anytime within the 9 months he could have died..... that was a super fun pregnancy.

Dan caught flesh eating bacteria when the kids were all little. The doctors told me to be prepared for him to either lose his leg or die.

OK is this ride over?

I got sick in L.A. ignoring a kidney infection. I wound up at Ceder Sinai Hospital with a 106 fever, a collapsed lung and septicemia.

Lucky to have lived that week, and yes I was there, alone.

You see I am not complaining.
Just wondering about this "What doesn't kill you", BS.

4 years ago I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer, 6 surgeries later to help ease the pain.
The chronic pain that no one talks about. They talk about pink ribbons and long walks. But the truth is CANCER is pure evil and once you have been touched your life is forever changed.

But now I'm facing the worst demon of all.

The slow good-bye to my mom.
My rock.
MY loudest cheerleader and my constant best friend.

The one whom I quote daily as she has gifted me more wisdom than she knows.

I watch her sit and stare out the window with blank eyes and pale skin.
I ask her questions knowing that there are no answers.
I am no longer her daughter.
But her keeper.
Thank God she feels safe here.
Although she knows not where she is.

She asks who that Man is as my Ben leaves the kitchen.
My heart hurts more than I ever thought possible.
I am being tortured with the unknown and raw from pain that I cannot heal.
I was told that this will only get worse.
 I'm desperately trying to lodge that sentence from by brain.

What haunts me the most is the fear that I will do this to my children someday.
I am petrified beyond words that they will cry themselves to sleep like I am.

I lived a life telling my mom how much I love her.
I still do, every damn day.
I pray that, that is enough.
No re-dos or second chances with this shit.

Where she goes from here or tomorrow I have no idea. I cannot wrap my head around tomorrow.
For now she sits.

I am caring for another newborn.
And I hate to admit this, but I'm angry.
I am awaiting for the next shoe to drop. Who have I become?
I'm waiting for a sign.
A sign that I wont have to make a decision.
 I stand still waiting for G-d to guide me.
I have too.
My strength is limited and decisions are to gigantic to tackle.
So I stand still.

Isn't it my turn to take care of myself?  
Or is that another Hallmark lie?


I promised that I would never put my mom in a home.
I promised.
She was robbed by a "friend" and reduced to financial ruins.

How can life be so cruel?

Can I let her live here and watch the slow death as if its my own?

Today I have no answers.  I am numb and yet I am watering my keyboard with tears.
I cannot stop the rain as its free flowing and burning my very being.
But I must go on.

This is the view into my very own demise.
Fucking crystal clear future.
 Please let me die in my sleep.

If you have a special child you might be like me, where you truly believe that you will live forever. Or at the very least go out together, like the end of the 'Notebook."


Denial and I get along great.

I'm going to book another trip and escape once again as I know that the cold hard brutal bitch of reality will still be here when I get home.

So how am I doing?

My boobs are killing me from the pain and their sight. I am a monster hiding behind baggy clothes and a painted on smile.

My heart is no longer whole as I watch my leader slip away.

I hate myself as I'm filled with thoughts of running away.

I want to eat chocolate and wear fancy shoes and go on with my "Sex in The City" pretend life that I am so good at.

But I cant.

So hold me if you can and please don't ask me how I am.

I am not OK.

And for now that has to be,

OK.