First of all, I would like to apologize for my very long absence from my blog, and thank those who may still be sticking around for when I come back. Thank you, so much, for following me. I started this blog without any expectation of having more than a few followers. And while my followers are few in comparison to some blogs, you are more than I expected to have, so thank you.
There has been so much upheaval, in the world as well as my life, for the last few years, and all of it overwhelming. Some of you may remember a few years back, when I posted a letter to WWE wrestler Roman Reigns, where I spoke about how much his motto, aka the title of this post, was helping me through a rough patch in my life.
By no means was he the first time I’d heard that phrase, but it was the first time I’d ever heard such belief and passion behind it. It wasn’t just a line for the show, it was something he fully, confidently believed in reality. He left WWE for several months, because leukemia that he’d had at 22 had made a return, and he had to go back for treatment. From the first time I had heard him say it, with so much conviction, it became my motto, too. Every time I fell down, I would mutter this to myself, and get back up. If he could fight leukemia, well, my problems weren’t that bad.
But getting up has gotten harder to do, let me tell you. Not only am I older, but Covid changed the landscape of the world I knew. While I’ve been fortunate enough not to have caught it, nor has my family, the effects of pandemic conditions nonetheless struck us. Not only did we know people who suffered through it, and people who died from it, the quarantine situation exacerbated the mental health issues that Bryony had started to manifest. Hubby describes it as a warm front coming from me, a cold front from him, and the two collided in her, creating a tornado. Add in puberty, and what you’ve got on your hands is a disaster spiraling out of control. In November of 2020, we embarked on a new journey, that of parents of a mentally ill child. Constant trips to inpatient care became the norm. Things she did had a devastating effect on our family, and the nearly 20 year relationship between me and their father did not survive it.
In all fairness, it probably would have happened anyway.
So the last year has seen us struggling to get Bryony the treatment she needs, watching the deterioration of the relationship between her and Aneira, dealing with parents who now live in separate homes, fighting legal issues, etcetera, etcetera, ad infinitum.
It has been a year of extremes. Not everything that happened was bad. In fact, some of it was very, very good, but no less overwhelming: I’m an adoptee who has been found, and welcomed, by her entire biological family, both maternal and paternal. I’ve discovered that I have siblings. Two on the maternal side, and on the paternal, at last count there were eight of us (although we won’t be surprised if more show up). I have younger sisters; you have no idea how weird that is to write, never mind say! I have sisters, and they want to pursue a relationship with me. That falls into the category of gifts unlooked for. I always wanted a big family, and now I have one. Learning my parentage has been nothing short of amazing, and my family-starved youngest is reveling in the fact that she now has aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as a maternal grandmother she is dying to meet. So not all bad, but equally overwhelming.
Roman kicked leukemia’s ass right back into remission within a few months. In the face of that kind of determination and success, what else can I do but keep getting up, keep promising myself that I can and will survive this.
All this to say, I don’t know when I’ll be back here. I have been posting on Instagram, so if you want to follow me there, I’m @sibelabmom over there. I’m neither closing, nor taking down this blog. At some point, I plan to be back here!
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