My Mom's 10th Year Yartzheit
Ten years ago today, my mom left this world. I had 43 years with her, and now ten years without her. I'm just beginning to grasp how wonderful she was.
When I was growing up people said we looked alike. I never saw that. We have drastically different coloring, she had olive skin, black hair and very dark eyes and I have fair skin, blonde hair and green eyes. Despite these coloring differences, I am able, through adult eyes, to finally look at us and see the resemblance.
About 20 years ago, when I was in my 30s, and mom was in her 70s she was diagnosed with OCD. I never wanted to look like her because that would mean, that maybe I was like her, OCD and all. There I said it.
She wasn't diagnosed until she was in her 70s because OCD wasn't "trendy" until late in her life. That's a shame because once the diagnosis came things got better for her, and us, her family. We were able to refer to the "monster" as separate from her. How refreshing was that! But despite the progress of having a diagnosis for her "craziness" the taboo of mental illness was still hovering over the disease and it wasn't until she died in 2001 that I finally could begin to truly process it. And it has taken me 10 years to actually say the words, my mother had OCD. And I still shudder a bit as I write these words. It almost feels like I am betraying her, like giving away her secret. I'm told that this kind of protection is common among families of OCD sufferers, as I'm sure is the case for other kinds of illnesses, like OCD.
Mom, it is an honor to look like you. May your soul rest in peace. I love you.
She wasn't diagnosed until she was in her 70s because OCD wasn't "trendy" until late in her life. That's a shame because once the diagnosis came things got better for her, and us, her family. We were able to refer to the "monster" as separate from her. How refreshing was that! But despite the progress of having a diagnosis for her "craziness" the taboo of mental illness was still hovering over the disease and it wasn't until she died in 2001 that I finally could begin to truly process it. And it has taken me 10 years to actually say the words, my mother had OCD. And I still shudder a bit as I write these words. It almost feels like I am betraying her, like giving away her secret. I'm told that this kind of protection is common among families of OCD sufferers, as I'm sure is the case for other kinds of illnesses, like OCD.
Mom, it is an honor to look like you. May your soul rest in peace. I love you.
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