Well...

So...did you know that if you break out in to tears in the middle of the gym nobody asks if you are okay?

Not sure if they just think you are working past your limit or if they are just freaked out but nobody says anything.

Which I'm actually fine with. I mean aside from crying in public I'm actually fairly private. Which I know is hard to wrap your brain around considering I write about everything. But writing is different. First off I'm in control of what I'm writing. I get to decide how much I share. And it's me sharing. It's not you coming in to my space, it's me giving you information. And writing is how I process things. Sometimes I just need to write about what I'm feeling to deal with it. Or even to understand it. One of the reasons I'm pretty decent at having discussions online without totally losing my cool is that I write. I have practice forming my ideas into the written word.

So back to the crying in the gym and tying it to discussions online for a minute. Just this morning someone on my friend list did one of those "get a real life" posts. Denigrating online interactions as not real. As some people do. Which is always so fucking weird, I mean, you're online right now posting about how people online need to get real lives? What? But when I broke out in to tears in the gym and nobody asked if I was okay I thought to myself, gee, in the fake world if I posted a status that said, "Crying" and just that, I would have a handful of PMs and DMs and texts and responses to that post all asking if I was okay. If it was happy or sad crying. What was going on.

You know. In the fake world. Where people don't interact like they do in the real world.

Just thought it was interesting.

And it was the way my brain started to disassociate from what was going on. Because sometimes you need a little barrier from the "real world."

See...my mother is dying. I'm not surprised. You all know that. I've been saying for a long time that I was pretty sure she was about done. She's been telling me for a long time that she was about done. Just waiting. Seems like she is tired of waiting. She's 87 years old. Dad's been gone for awhile now. Her sister died a couple years after Dad. She's been ready. As she would tell me every time I would talk to her. It's why we went home this year. Because it just felt like this was going to be the last year. Like deep in my bones I just knew this was it.

But even not being surprised. Even knowing it was going to happen sooner rather than later it's still hard. My sister sent a text out this morning letting all of us know that she didn't think it would be much longer. I happened to be at the gym when I got it. And I didn't leave. Because I wasn't done with my workout. I mean I thought about it. Because that seemed like the right thing to do, but then again there was that part of my brain that thought, what good will that do? So I finished my workout. While texting with my sister about the end of my mother's life and the planning date for her funeral.

And I cried a few times. Did you know how hard it is to hold a plank position when you are crying? Extra level of difficulty right there.

I'm sure it's a form of shock. That keeping going when you are trying to process something like that. I can remember when Brent's father died and I knew that as soon as Brent got out of the shower I was going to have to tell him. I didn't tell him while he was in the shower because it seemed like he should at least be able to shower in peace before I wrecked his day. And it's practical as well, right? The keep going portion has to kick in or we would all just shut down in grief and not ever stop.

So yeah...my mother has decided that she is done. I have to imagine she is at peace with her decision. Now we just wait for the final word. And we learn how to be at peace as well.

You know I'll be writing about it for awhile. Because I have to. It's how I deal with things.

Thanks for being here with me.