Mom got to come home on an overnight pass yesterday. She and dad stopped by today so we could visit with her a little while. She looks good; she says she has lost some weight. She weighs in at 104 pounds right now. She looks good, though, not a sickly 104. I went through a short conversation about how I seriously could not remember EVER weighing under 125 pounds in my lifetime. And I meant it. At my smallest (in memory) I was never small. I was a cheerleader, basketball player (some of high school), and active, yet my weight was not miniscule. I lied on my driver's license for years, stating I weighed 120. That was a total lie.
So hearing of my mother's low weight kind of threw me for a loop. Here I am struggling like I am the addict trying to overcome my demons with not being able to lose weight. Seems odd.
Dad will take mom back tonight. I'm afraid she has confided in me that she is ready to go back. That in itself is a scary statement. I understand what she means - the safety of the place, her new-found friends, her meetings and support - but that doesn't make it any less painful for me to hear (that she wants to go back).