La Mia Famiglia, La Mia Vita

“My Family, My Life.”

Quote: “If you’re going through Hell, keep going.” ~ Winston Churchill

This past Sunday, I drove up to Tempe to pick up Umi after dropping Kitty off at the airport here in Tucson. Umi came down here to stay with me for the week, just in case I needed to go to the ER again, so I wouldn’t have to go through this all alone. While I was in Tempe, I stopped by my grandmother’s house to visit her and my aunt. I had a nice talk and visit with both of them for a while (whereupon I hijacked seasons 3 through 6 of Xena), and then Umi and I were off to visit Akhi, who lives in Mesa. All in all, I’m glad I did it, regardless of how much pain it caused me the next day. That would be because my stupid brother lives on the third floor of his apartment building.

Anyway …

Funny thing about family, they give you strength when you least expect it, rather than drive you mad as usual. Then again, this isn’t the part of my family that has ever drove me to the brink of insanity. I disowned those idiots. I realized two days ago, as I’ve been getting stronger each day this week (save for the quick illness Tuesday), that that short visit with my family and having my mom here with me in Tucson this week has given me strength to heal, to move forward, to fight past that which ails me.

I feel stronger than I have in weeks.


I’m not saying that Kitty couldn’t or can’t do the same for me. She was here through the worst of my pain and took care of me, just as I took care of her through the Gallbladder of Doom when I first moved down here. I consider her family; a sister. But as I said on Twitter one particularly bad day, I wanted my mom. It doesn’t matter that I’m 41 years old. Sometimes, you just need your mom. I know she won’t be around forever, so I’m taking advantage of that now. As much as my mother has taught me in life and not taught me; as much as she has enabled me to not care or to quit at times, when I am strong, my mom is strong … and when my mom is strong, I am strong. These past few days has shown me not the woman who enabled me last year through my Hell, but the woman who has mystified people with her strength to quit drinking a few years ago without a program, without help of any sort. THAT is where my strength comes from; inside her, through my ancestry. Though I went through 30+ years of watching her kill herself slowly and teaching me that it was okay to quit, the woman before me now bears a strength I’ve not yet seen, and I’m proud to call her Mother. She has endured more years of Hell than I could possibly fathom, and yet, she’s still here, laughing, smiling, cracking jokes that I just have to tweet. She obviously wasn’t always like this. The woman I put before the world on Twitter to entertain all of you is not the woman I grew up with, but she is the true person my mother has always been, locked up, hidden away for many years behind the alcohol. I’m glad and I’m lucky to have this chance to get to know the true person my mother is. And it has been through her that I have discovered my strength within. I come from a long line of fighters and strong people, most especially women.

The biggest part of this is knowing I’m not alone. My grandmother and uncle are having similar issues as me with the pinched nerve and such. My father and one older brother, both of whom I’ve disowned, have back problems too. It makes me wonder if what we’re all so similarly going through is hereditary. And every one of us is on some sort of pain killer. I don’t like drugs, prescription or not. Before my money ran out last year, I was going to the gym and that helped more than any drug. I’d like to get to that place again, where activity takes the place of pain killers, where my mind is alert and not in a drug-induced fog. Where the pain has subsided because I’m taking care of my body. It may take a while, but I’ll get there.

Until then, I’ll keep looking to the strength within me and borrow the strength from my family and ancestors because they are my life, and without them, I wouldn’t be here today. I mean, c’mon, where do you think this Roman nose came from anyway? Although I borrowed Vin Diesel for a bit in my mind, I don’t need a man to be my rock. Part of my family comes from a land where Amazons once existed. Camilla, a warrior in Roman mythology, stood strong, as shall I. I will get there, and when I do, watch out world – this ain’t no Queen Bitch here. I’m the mother fuckin’ Goddess. And I’m my own goddamn rock.

Peace.