Da Fashionista.com

Decided to go into work today. Halfway there I was crying. Hysterically. In rush hour traffic.

I finally realized this isn't a dream. I'm not going to wake up. I can't go back. This is real. This is happening.

It hit me like a ton of bricks when I called my mom this morning and she didn't pick up. I panicked.

From now on instead of thinking she's just busy, I'll always wonder if she's OK. From now on whenever my phone rings, I'll hold my breath, fearing the worst.

I made it to work in one piece thanks to Sable Crow. So thankful for his friendship. In the darkest of moments, he is always a shining beacon of light for me.

My co-workers were as concerned as they could be. I haven't really made the effort with any of them. Haven't opened up at all over the last 3 months. I don't really want to connect with anyone there. Especially not about this.


A few hours into the morning I got a cheery email from my favorite writer. He wanted to plan another chi chi dinner with my mister lawyer and his Mr. Architect. They don't know, I thought.

Then a few moments later, I got a second email from Silver-haired Fox. Said he'd just read the blog and was so sorry to hear about my mom.

That email was followed up by one from Mr. Architect. He'd been thinking about me all day yesterday that's why he prompted his Silver-haired Fox to contact me and plan a double date.

He also said his mother has been living with the same type of tumor for 22 years!!! In fact, she is president of her local chapter of the American Brain Tumor Association. She even has a website dedicated to all the latest research on meningiomas!!!!

My jaw hit the floor. I have known Mr. Architect for over 10 years and had no idea. When he said he'd like to take me to lunch, I jumped at the chance.

Over lunch, we laughed like we always do when we get together. But this time, for the first time, we cried together. Mr. A has always been a fun times friend. He teaches me how to tilt my head and look skinny in pictures. We bond over new houses, fabulous friends and our annoyingly perfect boyfriends. We celebrate together. We don't ache together. Until today.

He told me about his mom's initial diagnosis when he was 8. Her emergency surgery in the mid-80s. Then the devastating recurrence of her tumor in 2000.

Told me how lucky he was to have spent the months before that second surgery with his mom in Europe. How since that surgery she's lost sight in one eye.

He told me that he doesn't tell many people this because no one wants to hear about how your mother has a tumor. But, he told me, that we will help each other through this. Wow.

What are the odds that we'd have this in common? And that this year, of all years, he and I would reach out to each other so much more than we have in the past?

Reconnecting and falling in friend love all over again. At Ben's birthday in Portland and his mister's birthday party and then Mr. D's 90s fiesta. I was so excited when I found out this new job was close to his office and we could have lunch. He was even one of the small circle friends who helped celebrate my first day.

I have been very palpably feeling something pulling me towards him. For months now. And I guess he has too. He couldn't stop thinking about me the first full day we were dealing with all of this. I guess he felt me tugging at him too. Amazing, no?

So many other things feel cosmically right in retrospect. The fact that I started this blog. Created an outlet, found my voice. That it's become a forum to feel support from friends - new and old.

What a blessing that I started writing about my mother more and more as the months have passed. That she has seen people respond so favorably to my writing and feels proud of what I am creating.

I am so thankful for all the photos I have of her now, on random days, in loving moments we've shared this year. Just recently, for a split second, I acknowledged, "Someday I will be so thankful to have all these photos of her." I guess someday is here.

And what about the fact that I randomly ran into Pop Tart Lover? It has made my mother so happy that we reunited.

And now I am realizing her support will be invaluable in the days ahead since she has been dealing with her mother's own serious illness. She was actually the first person I told about my mom's tumor.

What a gift all these people, all these twists and turns of fate. Something's looking out for us. That realization helped me tremendously throughout the day.

Over dinner, my mom asked me what kind of comments I've gotten. I told her about the outpouring of support and her eyes welled up.

But they didn't spill over. There's no crying allowed around her, she tells me over and over.

She also asked me to take her picture multiple times tonight. Show all of you that she is strong and staying positive and looking like herself.




I on the other hand looked like dog shit today. Didn't do my hair again. And cried off my makeup by 9 am.

Threw on jeans and flats and a flowery tank and Forever 21 jacket. And the new Me&Ro necklace to celebrate the feminine and ward off evil spirits dancing around in the form of fear.



These flowers her friend sent were stunning, no? Matched my tank top. When I left my mom's house, I wept in the car for half an hour. The flowers somehow made it even more real that there's something wrong. Isn't that ironic?