Quandary

It's been awhile since I have written.  It's not been from lack of trying.  I wanted to write about the passing of my mother on Christmas but every time I sit down, the words come out wrong.  So maybe it's just not time yet.  I will say that my grandmother was speaking to me up until the point I paid for the funeral--now I believe I am dead to her.  She has her reasons but I'm sure she will never voice them to me.  The strange thing is that it almost feels like relief to me.  I made decisions I knew wouldn't go over well with my family as well as consequences for those decisions.  This long, sorted story is for another day.

Three days ago, my dad and I had a terrible argument and now I find myself in a quandary about what to do about it.  I love my dad immensely, but as of late I have just started to realize some things I have been blind to see most of my life.  I started picking up on a few comments here and there a few months ago.  Things like, "you can't do that" in response to closing a heavy door or "let me do that, you'll do it wrong" about putting aluminum foil in the bottom of a BBQ grill.   I guess my deflection wall had started to build itself back up, because instead of taking such comments and keeping my mouth shut--I spoke up for myself  throwing in a bit of sarcasm along the way.  "You're right, there is no way your adult daughter could do this!  It's like brain surgery!"

Anyways, the day of the argument, we had had plans to go by the bank.  I needed him to do a few things for me that would have taken no longer than 30 minutes of his time.  We had agreed the day before to do this and had set a time for early in the morning.  As soon as I arrived, I should have left.  From the very start, it was clear to me that he was trying to pick a fight.  He went on and on about how I was ruining his day.  How he would rather be out with one of his friends.  At one point, he compared me to our schizophrenic neighbor who is now in a resting home.  Basically, he said lots of things he should have never said and I thought--enough.  I picked up my things and explained he's made himself perfectly clear.  We will not be going to the bank today.  I walked out the door and while I was loading the car, he screams out the door, "if you leave right now, don't you ever come back".  In a split second, I felt fear, considered going back inside, realized there was no way I was going back inside, and responded with "whatever dad".  I got in the car and drove home.  I wasn't even mad.  I just was.

About 10 minutes after I got home, he called.  He was uncontrollably raging at this point and proceeded to say he was only "playing" with me and that he was sick and tired of my "temper tantrums".  Let's just say, I went off at that point, not letting him get a word in edgewise and ended the conversation with something to the effect of, "you can bitch all you want to, but I've got news for you, I don't have to listen to it.  Call me back when you can talk to me like a normal human being."  I hung up the phone.

He's called two times since then--very short conversations.  Basically, I listen to what he has to say then get off the phone.  There hasn't been an apology.  Normally, when we have disagreements, we pretend they didn't happen and just go on acting normally.  But I can't this time--his rage was scary this time.  I can't help but ask myself if he hates me that much--it's just seething out of him.  I keep asking myself if there really is something so wrong with me.  I don't have the answers and I'm clueless on how to make this better.  Is it me? or is it him?

Good Bye Mom

No More Indecision

I was 26 when I finally walked away from my family.  My being, my soul had had all it could take and I thought I would be better off on my own.  I met the boyfriend that I still have now then and he brought into my life the one thing I had seemed to miss my entire existence on this earth--laughter.  He's showed me what true love feels like and if I believed in angels--I would say he's heaven sent.

I wish he could fix all the wounds that I carry with me now--that his love alone could put band-aids and salve on my heart.  But it doesn't quite work that way, at least not for me.  He helps me to carry the burden a little, but these are my issues to work out.  They are my problems to heal and I struggle with self doubt and exactly how to do so.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have just gone with my first instinct and never looked back.  Walked away at 26 and never gave it a second thought.  Perhaps I would have been better off, but I loved these people.  They were my family.  I was stronger then that's for sure.  They weren't capable then of making me think I'm the one's whose crazy.  So I opened the door once again and let them all back in.  That's what families do right?  Forgive and forget?

For a short while it was good, I soared actually.  It felt wonderful to have them in my life again and it seemed that the troubles of the past had finally let go.  But it's just not meant to be because they do not make me a better person and maybe I don't do that for them either.

I've finally made a decision again.  I don't feel as strongly about as I did at 26.  I struggle with doubt that I'm making a mistake, but I've come to realize a few things.  They can only make me feel what I choose to let them.  They can only make me do something that I allow them to do.  Their opinion of me only matters if I let it matter.

I'm fortunate to have my boyfriend in my life because he's a good barometer for what family should be to me.  At 26, I actually ran--this time I'm quietly walking away.  I'm a little wobbly on the steps right now, but I know I'll get stronger the farther I walk.  No more doubt--I know what's behind me--what's in front of me has to be better.

Moments Alone

She pops into my head almost daily now, usually when I steal a few moments completely to myself.  It's a strange thing when you consider that I've gone years without thinking about her.  Oh sure, the 'issues' have always cropped up throughout the years--always some new layer I need to peal off the onion--making sure I trip, fall, and skin my knee before finding my footing again.  The mix of emotions that churn within me I could not have anticipated, or maybe I should have.  Isn't that almost expected when you are abandoned by a parent that is finally made to lay in the bed they've made?  It's okay, you can call me naive, but I really thought I would be perfectly fine when this day did finally come.  I've told myself, hell, convinced myself that she means nothing to me anymore--that I've got no connection to her.  Those of you on the outside would shake your head with that knowing look.  You don't even have to speak the words, but she's your mother.

I can't seem to make heads or tails of how I feel.  I've been pushed and pulled in all directions, and I'll be completely honest, every direction makes perfect sense to me.  I can give you a list of reasons for each pull or push, but in this debate that constantly goes on inside my head--there is no clear winner.  I wish there was a simple truth to it all--like I don't even know her--but I don't have to know her to know her, I know me and through me, I get glimpses of her.  I don't feel connected to her, but I am somehow.  I don't like her, but somewhere, somehow there is love for her.  It's faint, but still there nonetheless.  How else would you explain why I've kept every greeting card she's ever sent me?  That's what I have of her--a lifetime of greeting cards that say I thought of you on your birthday (because it's the day before her own) but I'll never be a part of your life in any kind of meaningful way.  Do you have any idea how confusing it is to have the people you truly love the most tell you that is love?  Greeting cards are love.  Constantly in my ear telling me she loves me--they know that much!  How could they possibly know that when I don't?  I have to swallow all of this because she's dying and I've tried.  I'm pretty sure I'm going to come out looking like the asshole when it's all said and done because I can't be the daughter she needed when it really mattered.  And maybe that's okay because she couldn't be the mother I needed when it really mattered either.  

But she's your mother...

If I Had a Sister

My mind is wondering again.  I always seem to go back to the same questions that I've traced a billion times trying to find some meaning that perhaps is not there--of course my mind doesn't compute that as an option. Tupac's lyrics claw at my brain, Perhaps I was addicted to the dark side
Somewhere inside my childhood I missed my heart die.

Anyways, she noticed my Facebook profile picture and said it was cute.  It's a picture of my mother and me as a child in a loving embrace.  There's a huge smile on my face.  Sometimes I wonder if that picture is even real.  It seems like a lifetime ago.  I instantly wanted to open up and tell her everything, but I didn't.  I've been dying to say it out loud to someone--anyone--but I simply said it was my show of support to my mother since her lung cancer diagnosis.  She wrote back that she was sorry but that she hoped I was doing well.  Good call on keeping it simple.  I asked how her and her newborn were doing and she said just fine.  I ended with beautiful family, feeling completely fake because even though it's not what I wanted to say, it's what she wanted me to say.  I would have taken a bullet for her at one point in my life--now we are reduced to "I hope you are doing well".