Thursday, November 10, 2011

NaBloPoMo Day 10

Normally, when I get on here I know what I'm going to write about. Normally, I haven't made a commitment to write every day for 30 days.

That said, I want to talk about my mother. I don't normally. The subject of my mother is too sensitive and private. Or more so, the subject of my mother normally seems to cause me to over-think things and dwell and end up depressed.

Seeing as I've already been skating close to depression, and I've still got two library books guaranteed to make me laugh just waiting for me to read them, I think I'll talk about my mother anyway.

My mother is, at least in my opinion, a mess. She has had a bad tendency to move around the suburb she lives in far more often than really seems healthy (4 times in as many years that I can think of off the top of my head). She also doesn't go through everything before she moves it, it just gets boxed up and moved (usually because she's moving in somewhat of a hurry over a weekend).

She has problems expressing any positive sentiments to her children, even her obvious favorite. Instead, we've all been mentally pushed down in an effort for her to prop up her own self-esteem. It's left us all with doubts as to our worth or our readiness to do anything. And the few times there have been positive things, end up feeling like a carrot dangled before a mule to make it continue to move.

It's not that I hate my mother, despite what she might think. On the contrary, I love her a lot. But I refuse to be around her when it will just wind up with me feeling hurt again. I deserve better than that, even if it took me a while to get to that place mentally.

I've learned many things from my mother, most of them what not to do to my own children. Not all the things I've learned are helpful with anyone besides her either. Not having her in my life has been good, especially while dealing with other hard times. I don't need one more person added to the chorus that is saying that Ace and I messed up. I've had more peace, even with my frustrations, knowing that my mother wasn't going to dump a ton of stuff on me on a regular basis.

I don't think my mother is evil, but I do know that I am still too broken to try to have any kind of relationship with her. My dreams bear this out. I recently had a dream where I asked her if she knew what no contact meant. I'm obviously still somewhat upset about my brother's graduation (for more than reason, but I'm not talking about the car dying, I'm talking about my mother).

As much as I'd like to think that I'm past my past and all the stuff with my mother, I often find that I'm still just as hung up about things as I ever was. Despite her voice no longer being in my head, hounding me with her opinions on my life, I still have the scars and the broken bits as evidence of her still affecting my life. I don't know how long it will take to feel like I'm not broken, if I ever will. Things that seem unrelated trigger old insecurities and make me feel just as broken as I ever was.

I know that when I have kids, there will be no way for me to avoid messing up. My only real hope is that when I mess up, it won't have nearly the lasting impact on them as my mom has had on me.
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