Dear Farrah:
You are officially a teenager today. I have so many mixed emotions right now. My heart breaks a little as you inch closer to the years that will take you down exciting paths that I won't get to walk along with you because your social circle has branched out beyond your mom. However, I'm also terribly excited about how far you've come and how you've grown and matured impressively.
There's always so much I write about to describe what your year has been like and what wonderful and challenging things you've done, and this year is no exception. In fact, this year has been our hardest and our best. Kind of weird, huh.
You have held on to your love for your favorite band (Twenty One Pilots) and have made room for other artists (Billie Eilish). I have to bow down to your taste in music - it's all pretty rad. You and your music - Gah! Although it's my car, you ask me every single time we get in it, "Can I connect my phone? Can I play my music?" And like clockwork, if I respond with a no, you say, "But your music sucks!" Does it? Isn't half of my music TWENTY ONE PILOTS?!! Not to mention, all the songs you share with me that I like...I download those too. And to keep the peace in my car, I'll play T0P (that you love) and shuffle in a little Sia (that you hate). We went to two concerts! Two! And they were both Twenty One Pilots.
Your clothes are just as unique as you. Somehow, you've managed to look fashionable and homeless at the same time, and yet you wear it well and make it work. I've caught myself saying, "You're going to wear that?" when you're ready to head out somewhere, and then you give me 'the look' and I remember making that same face to my mother, and I try to turn it around so you know what you're wearing is fine...within reason, of course. You've always had a sense of fashion that seems quirky but ends up cool.
Your art. My God, your talent absolutely blows my mind. I can't help but show people your work. Yes, I'm bragging about you; I can't help it! It's so good that I want you to let me help you prep your portfolio now because I can see you doing anything you want with the skills you have now...at 13!!
I love that you know you want a future that includes art. I love that you want to be an art teacher, "But at a university because I don't want to teach kids. I don't like kids enough to do that all day and they wouldn't be very good." Understood, Farrah. But you talk about wanting to go to college in Canada. Nooooooooo! Please don't do that to me - it's too far away. I know you're still young and you may change your mind a thousand more times, but I was excited when we decided it might not be a bad idea to look at working in animation for Disney. I was particularly happy to see there were locations you could work in Washington. Now, I know why when I asked my mom, "What would you do if I moved to Alaska?" she said without hesitation, "I'd move there, too."
School. Oh boy. I'm always excited to see your report card because you are acing everything! You went through some crap in 6th grade where you'd been accused of cheating because of how you wrote a summary when their idea of what you'd write would be more like a synopsis. Your teacher accused me of setting high expectations for you and that you're trying so hard to please me - that made me laugh pretty hard. I laughed because this woman thought she knew you better than I do. See, I know that you take your school work seriously no matter how much you hate it. It's important to YOU to do well. I know that you know that I don't push you in school and tell you I expect you to get perfect grades. But most importantly...I know that you don't try to please me. You're not even trying to please me by making your bed without me asking. But I am pleased with how well you do in school and how much your 7th grade teachers really enjoy you and most seem to get you.
You've definitely become your own person. You enjoy your time alone when you can spend hours sketching or drawing while listening to your music. Your room is decked out with Twenty One Pilots "merch". Your style is yours and I'm happy when you ask to borrow clothes you like of mine. You are using teenage slang. You're using technology constantly to communicate with your friends, work on your digital art, and post your art and look up your favorite things and people on Instagram. You ask to hang out with friends, to go ice skating, to watch football and basketball games, and now you ask that James and I go on more date nights so you can just have some quiet time and hang out with the dogs.
Our dogs! You're so great with them. You truly love Twig and Kaia and spoil them with affection. It's awesome to see how much they love you too.
So, the reason I've been taking forever on this blog is because this is the part that's been really tough for me to want to write, but it needs to be remembered. How can we forget? When I was diagnosed with cancer...I couldn't tell you. I had to wait a couple weeks to let you know and it ate me alive. The hardest I cried throughout my entire time dealing with being sick, was knowing I needed to tell you and it broke my heart in a million pieces to think I'd have to tell you such a shitty thing. I didn't want to scare you even though your only experience with cancer was seeing how sick your sister-in-law got, and that my cousin had just passed away from her battle just months before my diagnosis.
As always, we handled things with a lightheartedness and humor because I didn't want you to worry or be scared...but I can't control everything. This put a burden on our relationship and for that honey, I'm sorry. Your feelings about me being sick showed up as anger. None of us knew the best approach for you in terms of understanding how to communicate your feelings, to be sure you truly understood what was happening and what was to come, or whether it was best you knew as much as you needed or if I needed to hide things. But the things that stand out in my mind are when I wouldn't feel good and I'd say, "Honey, can you get me my 2s and 3s?" All my medications were numbered and you knew exactly where to find them and you never sat there and made me wait for those pills. You'd get them and you'd bring me something to drink if I needed it. We got Kaia right when I started treatment, so you took care of her on the days James wasn't home. You did such a great job and I was so proud of you. You helped me pick the berries off the marion berry bush and you took care of things as we asked. I never asked a lot of you, because I knew you were already carrying a heavy weight that you didn't want to deal with or talk about. And even though we fought a lot during that time because I know you didn't know how to show what you were feeling...every once in a while, you'd see my face and quietly ask me, "Are you okay?"
We are convinced we're out of the woods, but like me, I'm sure there's some fear still for you too. I noticed that when my energy started to climb and I was able to be more like myself around the house, you became happier, sillier, and no qualms about chores James and I would ask you to take care of. I realized, I can't get sick like that again. But if I do, I think I'd be more prepared how to handle it with you. I know you were scared, Farrah. And so was I. But the thought of you being afraid of the "what if" with me, broke me to pieces. I fought my ass off so you won't have to see that side of life for our little family again. And if for some crappy reason I get sick again, I will fight and fight and fight. I'll fight for you, kiddo. The best gift I plan to give you for your 13th is a clean bill of health...and some Twenty One Pilots merchandise.
