My mother and I, we have this mutual view of one another..
Last time we argued, she said, “You have to realize that I am your mother, not the other way around”. That sounded ridiculous to me then. Looking back now, maybe she had a point.
It’s not that I don’t see her as my mother. I realize she’s my mother, but it’s been a rather distant kind of mother-daughter relationship. I know for a fact that she is my mother, but there are tons and tons of dust on that image of her in my mind. It’s been ages since we had an intimate talk. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we did. It’s too long ago for me as if it was in a past life. Dust isn’t the only thing obscuring that image; there is also some ash, and some blood, and salt; dried tears.
Where that image lies there hasn’t been any light or air in a very long while. I would wander inside every now and then but eventually I stopped. It’s too dark in there, and the air is heavy with grief. Memories hang in the air forming heavy fog, and it burns to look at, and it burns to breathe. Having been left to be forgotten, all those negative feelings turned into a very subtle anger. Well, subtle, yes, but lethal, or rather, suicidal.
I don’t want to be angry with my mother.. She was not my first let down but she certainly hit the hardest.. And maybe it was not even her fault.. Maybe she did what she thought was right. Maybe she was all too hurt too.. Maybe I let her down first.. Maybe I grew up too fast.. Maybe I saw her as a friend of mine, and when I realized she’s my mother, my heart broke, and I sank…
Everything was okay until I stopped being who she wanted me to be and started struggling with who I am.. What if I was a depressed teen that wanted to mind her own business and wanted everyone else to do so too? Is that too much of a disappointment to take? What if I slept to the sound of music and cried everyday? What if I wasn’t the way my siblings were; all easy and nice? What if I had problems at school I did not want to share? What if I had my own personal life for a change? What if I grew more and more rebellious every time they tried to constrain me? Does this have to make me feel like I’m less than everyone else? Less than you want me to be? JUST LESS?
Funny.. Funny how I can’t even be satisfied with whoever I turn out to be.. Funny how I always expect that one comment you can make about how I could have done better and it blows away the whole sense of accomplishment I was thriving on.. Why though..? Why the negativity and the pretending and the bitterness? Why the expectations – the very specific expectations? Why can’t I be me and why is that not good enough to you..?
Even though it gets easier with time, I don’t foresee a spec of peace coming from that direction any time soon..
I wish I could forgive… and just heal.