I was watching Secret Millionaire on TV the other night, (a show about fortunate people who help unsuspecting needy and deserving people) and my husband said nothing during the show except "Don't get any ideas, I don't have $100,000". The American Idol charity drive sent me into an hour long cry fest ending in me calling and pledging everything I could. I am a crooked evangelist's dream.
Well, mommy radar has kicked in again and I'm helpless to know what to do. I'm a doer, I fix it and make it better, and until I do I obsess over it. This is the story...
I was looking up song lyrics for a frame a month or so ago and stumbled upon a blog with a college-aged author. She is a talented writer and poet who is very in touch with her feelings. She expresses herself well and writes about her life and thoughts - and all of her poor choices.
She is self destructive and a mess - weren't we all? I read her angst about life, boys, decisions, and I can relate. I'm transported back to another time and place when I felt these things. I read about her behavior and feel compelled to tell her it will be alright. Move forward, make good choices, life will iron itself out and you will be happy and full someday.
I can't reach out to her, she is a stranger, but I look over her like a mother hen. As if I'm watching over myself in another time. I worry and log in each day to be sure she woke up that morning (she is currently trying to stay awake for 72 hours - and I think she is driving a car during this time!) and hope that today's choices will be smarter. I hope that she studies for her finals, I hope she doesn't hurt herself doing something stupid (oh, she does plenty of stupid things), I hope she learns to value herself, and I hope for her to be happy.
This blog-world allows us to make emotional connections with strangers, sometimes without them even realizing it. It lets you peek inside someone's diary to read their inner most thoughts and dreams. It lets you bond in a strange, one-sided relationship that has no roots and no future. You can be a fly on the wall of your own soap opera. As I watch over her, I wish I was her mother and could help make it better. I also realize her mother is probably the last person who would read this journal.
So, I read, I worry, and I retain for the future when I have young adult children trying to find their way in this world. I hope when that time comes "mommy radar" will help me recognize their struggles. I have a few years to come up with a game plan...