I struggle with knowing how much I should share. I don't know where to start. Well, I do, but I don't know how to start. I don't really know what I should share, because I hate being looked at differently when people find out about mom. They usually don't say anything, but the look in their eyes says it all. It's a look of pity, or perhaps it's a look of helplessness. I'm not really sure. I know they don't know what to say, which is understandable. I've heard the words "I'm Sorry" about a thousand times, and I know people are sorry. I know they feel sorry for me, and that's what I have a hard time with. I don't want to be pitied, I just want people to understand.
I lead a different life than most people my age. That's okay with me. I'm used to it. I schedule my time around visits with mom, because no matter what, she's my priority. I really hate missing a day of seeing her, because her condition is so unpredictable that I don't know what may change from day to day. Sometimes it's hard, missing out on things, or choosing between them. I usually pick seeing mom. She deserves at least that from me.
I picked seventeen different titles for my personal essay. One for each year I've lived. I wrote a paragraph about each, and I'm not really sure which one I want to pick. I thought about picking a couple and writing an essay for each, and then choosing which I like better, but I know they'll just end up at the same place, about the same thing. It doesn't really matter how I start it, because I know the story will morph into my story, and become the same words, just arranged in a different order. I suppose that's what writing is about.
I'll keep you posted and let you know when I figure out which essay I'm going to write. This should be interesting.
P.S. Thanks for letting me brain dump. It cleared my head so now I can do my homework! And I have a lot of homework.
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