Mother's Day Appreciation

Welcome to Musings of an Arthritic Artist! Today is going to be a special post. Sunday, May 9 was Mother's Day, so today is going to be a special post. This post is for my wonderful mother. 

King, Alexandria. Musings of an Arthritic Artist. 2021.

My mother is the strongest woman I know. Whenever there’s a family emergency, she never hesitates to be the first to help. 

When doctors told her that at nine months old her youngest child of two was diagnosed with Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis, a childhood autoimmune disease, she kept calm and was determined to get her child the medical care she needed.

That child was me (which you know if you're a regular reader). I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without her. Dealing with her own pains, I always wonder how she’s able to do everything she does without cracking under pressure.

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When I was a child, my mother always took the time to help me when I couldn't help myself. I've been on chemotherapy three separate times (around 9 months to 6 years old, 6 years old to I want to say 11, and 12 to 12 and a half), and each time my mother had to give me my medicine and make sure I was awake. 

My family comes from a long line of health issues, so I'm not an anomaly in my family (at least on my maternal side; I'm kind of an anomaly on my father's), so I wonder how my mother does it. If I ask I know she'll tell me that it's her responsibility, but it still makes me wonder how she has succeeded in raising me and my sister, guiding my sister with her education, educating me, taking care of me, making sure that I have food to eat, all while she's usually in pain herself. 

I've been known to do a lot of different things when I'm in pain, but not as much as she has because I don't have many responsibilities. I don't have a child, I'm not married, and I'm not an adult. I do some things at pain levels others probably have a hard time imagining, but my mother did it so frequently when she was raising me that I wondered if she was even 100% human. It's like she's super-human or something. 

I've been lucky enough to have a mother who actively wants to be a part of my life and who loves me. Sure, there's times where we disagree, but we always put those moments behind us. She and I have an emotional understanding I can't easily explain.

And honestly, no matter how many times I write about how amazing my mother is, it'll still never be enough. No matter how many times I thank her, it'll still never be enough. 

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When I was a child, I used to withhold affection. If someone hugged me, I physically felt pain, so when my mother would try to hug me, I'd run off immediately. After a short while, my mother realized why, and stopped trying to hug me, instead waiting for me to hug her. 

I am now catching up on all the hugs I lost the opportunity to have. For the past few years, I've apologized for not hugging her as a child, even though it wasn't my fault. I still feel guilty about it. My autoimmune disease caused me so much pain as a child to where I couldn't hug the people I loved because I was afraid I'd feel pain. 

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Honestly, I was not an easy child to raise. I couldn't walk as a child, I needed care 24/7, and I was certified disabled when I was 7. My mother has homeschooled me since I was about 7 years old (I was in public school for about 3 months before I had to quit; I'll address that in a future post), and I have not been an easy person to teach, especially not when I was little.

The medications I used to take made me restless, loopy, and forgetful. I couldn't sit still and I couldn't focus. No matter how many times my mother would try to sit me down to work, I just couldn't. I couldn't write in my workbooks because my wrists never wanted to cooperate. I rarely ever got schoolwork done because my mind couldn't focus.

I am graduating a year behind when I would have graduated in public school (I'm now Class of 2022). I took a gap year in 2017 when my sister did, so we could spend time together. School was never easy for me growing up, and I always stressed about it. I was afraid I would never graduate high school. I thought that I was stupid and unteachable. But more than that, I was afraid that I would disappoint my mother, which I always knew wasn't true, but I couldn't re-train my mind to let go of that guilt. 

I have never told my mother this, because I know that if I do, I'm going to cry (as it is, I'm already crying while writing this). I never thought that I was good enough. I couldn't sit still, I could barely write, and there were times where I questioned whether art would even be a feasible career path due to my wrist issues. It's been about 12 years and I'm almost there. I've almost made it past high school, and I have my amazing family to thank for that. Without my mother, I wouldn't have an education. Without my mother, I wouldn't be where I am. There are only so many things I can teach myself before I get lost and don't know what to do.

I know that there were times where my mother wanted to quit teaching me, but she never did. We always kept going, and I'm grateful. I've never been the most studious student, but I try. I'm definitely better at school now than I used to be. 

I know my mother is reading this. This post is for you, Mama. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I can't thank you enough. Happy Mother's Day!

That's it for this post! 

See you Thursday, 

Lexi K🖌