That blog yesterday really did help my willpower. I had no problem with avoiding the cookies in the workroom table this morning. I looked at it several times, but never contemplated it.

Anyway, my blog today is about my mom. My strong, hard-working, wise woman of a mom. I can almost think no more highly of her than I already do. Almost. Her weakness is my dad. "Weakness" is the perfect word - it works as the opposite of her strength and as the thing she allows herself to succumb to. She does not have the heart to kick him to the curb. She literally does not want to be "black-hearted," which means evil in Cantonese. She has never been able to separate herself from him completely. They've known each other since 10-11 years old, he's part of her identity.

My mom was very wary about my marrying David. She did not want me to follow in her footsteps by marrying someone I would have to take care of financially. There's a huge difference between David and my dad though. David has always put me and us #1. My dad has been putting himself before my mom since 10-11 years old. I might be the breadwinner, but David is worthy of my income and I am worthy of his love and kindness.

My mom recently began sharing with me deeper and more thorough thoughts and emotions than she ever has before. It's all related to my dad and his downward spiral into severe mental illness. She's not hiding her tears from me. She's asking for my opinion about what she plans to do with my dad. She's freely expressing how much she dreads the idea of him returning and how it's weighing on her heart. But, she also told me today how happy she was. My Aunt Vicky and Uncle Steven are visiting and invited her to go with them to the Grand Canyon. My mom spontaneously took a sick day today and went with them. But, he comes back in 2 days. Sigh.

She needs to get away from him. NEEDS to. I wish I could get her out sooner. I'll have my MD in a little over a year, I just keep on hoping she can see the light at the end of the tunnel. This fucking dark tunnel.

So all that she shared with me is beyond anything I've ever experienced with her before. She has always protected me from the truth about herself. I knew this, understood why, and accepted it. I am the youngest crybaby daughter in medical school. Connie is her rock. I am her secretary (inside joke - I pay all her bills online). Connie is the one who is burdened by my mom's suffering. I am the one who can pretend to be blissfully ignorant. I had come to the conclusion that all my mom wanted from me was that I think about her and want to hear her voice several times a week. I was happy to oblige this very easy duty.

But after the past few phone calls, I must now face our changing, maturing relationship. I can't be a crybaby forever. I knew I had to be my mom's rock one day, but I thought it was going to be when she was old and sick...not now with my dad's alcoholism.