Two of my sisters posted this video on their Facebook profiles:
Instantly, I knew exactly what it was about. Her. Our mother. I really didn’t want to start of 2012 with these darker parts of my life, but if I don’t acknowledge their existence, then I subscribe to the same kind of twisted world a lot of people try to live in. The “nothing is wrong with my life and everything is perfect and I shit butterflies” outlook. I promised myself that I wouldn’t only acknowledge the good, just like I wouldn’t live in the negative. You see…the funny truth about life is that not everything is perfect, it’s not supposed to be. That would be too easy. You wouldn’t appreciate the things that are good if everything was good.
So: right now, in this moment, I’m going to acknowledge that I’m sad about the way things turned out. And that’s okay. After I finish writing this post, I will go back to my day…I will enjoy my children, my husband, and play in the snow and have fun. But right now? I’m going to mourn things.
It really does suck, not “having” a mother. Well, I have one, but not present. She doesn’t want to be present. I didn’t hear from her this Christmas, although she did respond to one of my e-mails and wasn’t horrible about it. It was as if she was…an acquaintance. She told me my boys were adorable, and I should be proud. That was it, really. I didn’t feel as though I was speaking to the woman that was supposed to be my mother at all, and it was sad. So I stopped responding, and so did she. Sure, those e-mail exchanges were not like the last ones, but it still wasn’t like it used to be. I don’t think it can be, I don’t think even a “friendly distance” relationship is appropriate. There’s just too much hurt. Hurt that she doesn’t want more, hurt that she doesn’t want to be a part of my life the way she should be a part of my life: as my mom, and my kids’ Gramma.
I suppose I have a hard time accepting it completely because once upon a time…she was a mother. She wasn’t the greatest, but she certainly wasn’t the worst. She loved us, even if I question it now that she can so easily write us out of her life. She was there for us, she cared.
I guess I just can’t understand how you can fall out of love with your children. To me, to most mothers, that’s just something that one cannot fathom. An impossibility. I know, she’s mentally unstable. But even still, her actions, even her silence, cuts deep. I try to forgive her, in my mind and heart, because I know that she’s mentally unstable. But it’s still difficult, because I still love her. I love the person she was, years ago. The mother who would sleep on an uncomfortable couch in my hospital room every single night I was there, so that I wouldn’t have to be alone. The mother who would help me learn to walk again after each surgery. The mother who would try her hardest to teach me that it doesn’t matter that I am different, I’m still wonderful, I’m still perfect. The mother who made sure all of my school needs were met, who fought to make sure the teachers gave me chances to catch up in school work when I took too much time off due to surgeries and bad pain days. The same woman who struggled to help me find my niche when I depressingly watched from the sidelines as my sisters play sports.
I miss her. But for reasons I can’t explain, or even understand…she’s not there. Not right now anyway.
Gave you the space so you could breathe,
I kept my distance so you would be free,
And hope that you find the missing piece,
To bring you back to me,
Why don’t you remember?
Don’t you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby, please remember me once more,
When will I see you again?