I am a little bit off today.
Sometimes I look inside myself and I know I’m there, but I feel like this picture. Off. Not quite right. The person is there, and you can see them, but they are out of focus.
I’m not sure why. I’m missing my mom really bad, and that is an unexpected feeling. I still miss my dad quite a lot, even after all these years, but to miss my mom is an all new feeling. I didn’t miss her when she lived in California all those years after we moved to Iowa. I missed her a lot when I was younger, but since she made her choices, I learned to live with them, and I stopped missing her as much.
The first restaurant here in Boone that we went to together nearly burned down this morning. Could that have something to do with it? Maybe. Maybe it’s that I can’t just call her if I want to. Maybe it’s still settling in that she’s really gone.
An old friend asked me how I was doing, but she asked it like this, “Aren’t you just dying without your mom?”. What an odd way to put it. The answer is no. I’m not. My world is still turning. Much like it was before she moved to Iowa. I don’t know what it’s like to be friends with my mom. I don’t know what it’s like to be close to her. I wanted to know. I tried to get close to her when she moved here. We got closer. We’ve never been close. She would complain to me after she moved here that I didn’t do enough with her. I didn’t spend enough time with her. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t used to her being here. We’d been in Boone for eight years when she moved here. She was coming into our world, and our world is a crazy, busy place where one or more of us are going somewhere or doing something all the time. We tried to include her in things, but most of it was just daily life, and it was over before we knew what hit us. I would call or text and she wouldn’t answer, or vice-versa. It was so hard at first.
Even when we did live close to her in California, she stayed away. We would have to beg her to come over to see us and spend time with Jessup. She was kind of a loner. Always thinking that she was intruding on our space or our time. She raised me to be just like that, so why then did she expect her loner daughter to need her so much?
She was a complex woman. Sometime when I write about her it will seem as though I’m slamming her. Sometimes it will seem as though I’m cruel.
I will NEVER write about her just to be cruel. I will never write about her to make myself feel superior, or to make her look like a bad mother. She was a difficult mother, to say the least. She tried. That’s all any of us do. I’m sure that my kids have issues with me. I’m sure that if they don’t now, they will at some point. I’ve been the best mother I know how to be. I hope that they remember that. It’s hard, but I try to remember that she did the best she knew how to do. Her mother was not easy or kind to her (although she was never anything but loving and wonderful to me), so I know she had a tough time. Her model of what a mother should be was askew. So was mine.
Part of the reason I’m doing this blog is so that I can deal with this stuff I have in my head. I’m doing this so that I can let go, and go forward. I’m doing this so that I can forgive her for things she said and did to me that hurt me, broke me, ruined some part of me.
I keep trying to put her out of my head, and I’m realizing that I cannot do that. Not until I come to terms with some of these issues. Not until I forgive her and let it go. Not until I get it out.
I don’t have many stories where she is the hero. I don’t have many memories where she was really present at all. Many of the memories I have of her are painful. Many of them are memories of a way in which I was somehow damaged or broken by word or deed. Many of my memories are only of my dad, and don’t include my mom at all.
This is not a place where I will put things to get sympathy. I don’t want sympathy. I want my daddy back. I want to deal with my mother. I want questions answered that never will be. I want a lot of things, but sympathy is never one of them. Don’t feel sorry for me. I had the parents and the childhood that were chosen for me. I have to deal with that. I have to figure out what to learn and what to take away. I have to learn what to let go of, and how to heal.
I also ask you not to judge me. No one lived my life. No one was there every day behind closed doors. I am not an angry person. I get angry, but it is not my disposition to be that way. I’m a giggly, sometime funny, sometimes melancholy, usually silly girl. I like that girl. Hopefully you do too.
So, I’m out of sorts today. It’s weird to miss her. It hurts more than I ever thought it would.
Thus begins the inside stuff that no one knows about… But not right now. Right now I have a Bible Study to host.
That is all.