Trigger warning: death ----------------------------- Lately I have taken the challenge of disciplining myself in several aspects of my day to day life. For example, reading. I felt that reading grounds me to be in the moment, and helps my brain exercise. Sometimes it gets hard because in my effort to make my brain read, it will wander off and goes to a whimsical part of my mind where I keep all sorts of things: my insecurities, unsaid things, a mental scrapbook of scenes and sounds I keep in case of emergency, and the ever-present inescapable: my mother.  It's been ten years and I don't think this parental dilemma ends. It's hard to talk about it, especially to friends or people who still have their mothers. They don't know what to say, and I don't know what to share either so I found comfort in joking about it every chance I get.  A month ago, a friend of mine lost her mom. I went to the wake, and we just sat there in silence--crying. To reiterate discipline, I tri