Awareness

Ironic that what was once just an inside family joke has become a prevailing theme in my life. Merriam-Webster defines it as, having or showing realization, perception, or knowledge. I have been told I am hyper aware and awareness was a term Mom used often. Was Mom on to something or was it simply alcohol induced logic and coincidence? I don’t know the answer but it all began over 30 years ago when I was just 15.

People might have thought I had a lot of friends; after all I was friendly to and got along with many. But the truth was I was kind of a loner (still am) and just a really good chameleon. A couple of people knew the truth, maybe not even understanding it but aware (there it is again!) of my circumstance. I lived alone with my depressed mother who used increasingly larger portions of vodka or whatever was on sale, to dull her pain.

One night while she lay passed out on the sofa, my girlfriend Debra, one of the few in the know, and I watched television sitting on the floor and being as quiet as two teenage girls watching television know how to be. This was long before multiple televisions or even remote controls, so there we were.

Mom was lying on her side, facing the back of the couch with the soles of her feet turned toward us. I don’t recall who noticed it first but there was a huge flattened piece of yuck with dirt, hair and who knows what stuck to the bottom of Mom’s foot. One of us pointed it out to the other and we both burst out laughing unable to contain ourselves.

To my horror, Mom rolled over and slurred, “what?”

I replied, “You have something stuck to your foot” pointing at the offending mass on her sole.

She turned unfocused eyes downward and without skipping a beat proclaimed, “that’s called awareness.”

Now Debra and I really turned up the volume, it was just too much and so ridiculous! Mom was already out again and I told and retold the story to the members of my family who shared a love of finding humor in the strange occurrences that were normal in our lives.

So, here I am thinking about that long ago night and wondering why Mom said that? Did she know something? Were her fugues escapes from intellectual brilliance too bright for anyone to tolerate? Or maybe she was just drunk and I, her royal unworthiness, Queen of Over Thinking Everything, am simply reading too much into the situation?

Awareness indeed! Sometimes I hunger for cluelessness. Just hoping to be a little obtuse and enjoy basking in the silence of a quiet, peaceful, content mind. Is this how Mom felt? Did she retreat into the quiet, dark solitude of her room, dulling the edges of sharp reflection with alcohol and holding dogs captive for their unconditional love because she needed to escape awareness?

Oh My God! I’m Becoming My Mom!

No, I’m not. I have a husband, take care of my child, have a job I manage to do reasonably well most of the time and I let my dogs out.

But I will admit quieting the rapid-fire chaos that runs amuck in my head with wine has become increasingly appealing.