If I were to die today...

The other day my girlfriend asked me why I haven’t been writing in my blog lately…I told her that I had actually been thinking about it that very subject myself and I didn’t really have an answer for her. We drove in silence and a moment or so later I stated, “I still have a lot to say but I feel like I just don’t know how to get it all out or maybe I don’t have the time.” She reminded me that she gave me permission to write about her, because at one point I had told her that not all my writings about her would be “rainbows and sunshine” or something like that. But I told her that wasn’t the issue, because frankly, it isn’t. I guess I don’t write because I don’t feel like anyone really cares to read anything I write. So why bother?

 But then I remember I didn’t start this blog for me, I started this blog to write about things, life, observations and hopefully share stories of my mom and dad because really, my life doesn’t matter. I don’t care if I’m remembered, my goal is for the world to remember how amazing my mom is. To remember the father that my dad eventually became, after he reached the age of 70. So I guess in essence the blog was created and should be maintained as a reminder of all the good that went into making me who I am and the unfortunateness that with me, that goodness all dies. I have no one to pass my mother or my father’s genetic greatness to…my dad’s great hair, my mom’s smile and eyes. My dad’s sense of humor and my mom’s laughter, as I sit here and think about it…I feel like I have disappointed them. I can’t believe I’m the result of the sperm that won the race to mom’s egg.

I feel like I have led several lives over these last 39 years…ugh, and none of them are really worth writing home about. I give money to worthy causes, when I see someone begging for change I give them some. If I see someone sleeping on the street, I cover them with a blanket from my car. If I see a dead animal on the roadway, I stop and move it to the grass so that its family doesn’t see it get further mutilated. I try not to kill bugs, I go out of my way to move the frogs, snails and salamanders from the path of the mower. But that’s pretty much it. I don’t volunteer at soup kitchens. I’m not a Harvard graduate. There will never be a cancer curing drug named after me. My name will never be on the side of a building in lights. I will never be in someone’s award speech. No one will ever tug at their ear on tv as a secret hello to me. No one will ever call me mom…or wife.

Almost 40 years old and I haven’t really done anything with my life. Sure I have a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology, am a member of the National Honor Society of Psychology…have a Master’s in Social Work with a specialty in School Social Work K-12 and have spent the last 14 years working with those suffering from severe, chronic mental illness…specifically Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorders…but so what? Big deal. Shrug. If I were to die today,

Debra Dawn Carlsen

Loving daughter.

She had good intentions.

1974-2013