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The words today are not what I imagined I would ever write, or would ever come out of my mouth. I wanted to rage, to be bitter, and to be angry. I wanted my mom to suffer, as she had made me suffer. I wanted her to hurt, much more than she hurt me. I wanted her to feel everything she inflicted on me by at least a magnitude of 10. Well, in my journey to discover, to heal, to live what days I have left, just being okay with me, I discovered my mom. I see her with different eyes and a different heart. I think God softened my hard and cruel heart. I could not have done that on my own. I love my mom. I don't love what she did. But I love who God intended her to be. That was my mom. This may turn out to be the reason she existed. To let people know that you can heal, and forgive. That you will live again. I still have bad days when I am so out of control, and then others where I experience great peace. I lived long enough to experience that. Praise God.
I could have been nicer mom, More gentle and softer. I could have given you a soft place to fall. So many things I could have done, but didn't. I wanted to be nicer than you could ever imagine, but I don't think you could picture those things. You could only imagine the past and what it should have looked like. I looked at the past and got more angry with you. Both of us hurting by looking backward and not seeing today.
I should have been nicer than I was too. I mean, I was nicer than I wanted to be most of the time, but most of the time wasn't nice enough. Even when I was nice, I should have been nicer. I was always guarded and ready to fight and defend. Ready for what might be launched from your mind next. I was never ready though. You always got me. Yet, by not being nicer, I see where I added to your imaginings and longings for what life should have been. I didn't fit into that picture when I was angry at you. I see that now. Your visions and dreams of life and mine were the same mom. It looked the same and it wasn't the way it was supposed to be. I understand that.
Gentler. Yes, I do wish I had been gentler. Perhaps to awaken the sense of being mothered and loved within you. I was harsh and spoke with words of steel at times. Words that shattered your heart and mind like daggers of ice. From my own broken heart, I spoke words that did the same to you, as you did to me. The same that was done to you, long before I came in to being. Mothers, daughters, families destroying each other.
Softer. I wanted to be that. I wanted to be your shelter. To be your safety and your haven. I felt rejected when you refused and constantly cried for your son and your daughter despite me being the one standing in front of you. All over again, or still, I just wasn't enough for you. Now I get what you meant. I was right when I thought I wasn't enough, but it wasn't about me, was it mom? You wanted the whole picture. The entire family. The way it was supposed to be. You were always looking at what was missing. So, in my rejection, I removed myself at times from your picture so you had more to miss. I'm sorry for that.
I understand you more in death that I ever died in life. Why is it this way? But I get it. I do and I agree. No mama, it was never supposed to be this way. We both had different visions and different dreams and life left us wanting. But was it ever supposed to be any particular way mama? Or were we just supposed to do the best we could and learn to adjust and adapt? We both went about it in different ways and it didn't do either of us any good, did it? Guess we still have some learning to do.
Mama, I know in your crazy world you chose life. Like me. Therefore, we did what we had to do to live. We fought and made mistakes. Sometimes terrible mistakes. You were quite the fighter and I learned a few skills from you. But I also learned that we are the same. The one that I fought hardest in my life was the one most like me. Our hurts were the same. Our desires, our dreams. The same. But our lives were quite different, weren't they? You kept looking for what you didn't have. Your idea of family, vacations, and all the regular kinds of celebrations. I was looking for what I didn't have too. Love and acceptance.
Our pain made us who we became. I'm so sorry mama. I really understand why you kept saying "It's not the way it was supposed to be." The words of love you could not say by themselves were hidden inside things you said. Your cryptic messages, which were meaningless at the time, said them.
I do miss you. With all my heart. I miss our talks, laughter, tears, hugs. I miss the mom I didn't have, and I miss hearing about the girl you might have been. I miss all the memories we never made. I don't miss any of the bad stuff, which is pretty much all of it, but I miss you. The person. The woman. The mother. The child that God calls his daughter. I felt his tears for you mama. Did he tell you? I heard him calling you to come home. I know you believed in Him and you were so angry at Him. I know that you believed you had good reasons. We all believe that. I hope you're happy. I am trying to be. I think of you almost every day and your pictures are on my wall and on my shelf. I wear your sweater when I get cold, and I put your nighties in a pillowcase and when I am lonely for you, I bring it to bed and hug it. Like our sleepovers. You really loved those and I was terrified. I was so afraid of you. I wear your purple shirt (because it fits now) that we wore that day to the Cancer Clinic. The best day I ever had with my mom. I use your dishes, towels, and see the depression glass it's beautiful colors on the window ledge. I am thinking of writing our story like I promised but I don't know if I can mom. Will it help anyone? I no longer wish to hurt or shame you, but you said you wouldn't care. So unlike you. My head still hasn't stopped spinning with that one. Well mom, wish you were still here. Don't miss the tangling but do miss the softer moments. Wish we had more of them. Oh, I have tried (a little) to keep in touch with Stevan. I tried calling him a while ago but there was no answer. The few times I did talk to him, he doesn't seem like he wants to talk. He misses you too.
I'm reminded of the promise to restore the years the locusts have eaten. It had great meaning during this process and I came across this blog God Can Restore Your Lost Years. Colin Smith explains so well exactly what that verse means. If our story helps just one person, then her life was not in vain. It did have value and meaning. May God perform a miraculous healing in all of us broken people and for the MNPD people in our lives. I believe they too were broken by someone. Theirs manifested in a horrible and destructive way and I am reminded "There but for the grace of God.." My mom could not be anything other than what she was. Do I believe she was evil? Not any longer. I believe she did evil, but don't believe that she was evil. Would I stay around an MNPD today? Absolutely not! Not for one blessed second and neither should anyone else. My position is after a lifetime of therapy, healing, searching, fighting, struggling, screaming, losing my mind, meditation, etc. etc. etc. I am now in my mid 60's and feel peace for the first time ever. It is a very foreign feeling.
Gentler. Yes, I do wish I had been gentler. Perhaps to awaken the sense of being mothered and loved within you. I was harsh and spoke with words of steel at times. Words that shattered your heart and mind like daggers of ice. From my own broken heart, I spoke words that did the same to you, as you did to me. The same that was done to you, long before I came in to being. Mothers, daughters, families destroying each other.
Softer. I wanted to be that. I wanted to be your shelter. To be your safety and your haven. I felt rejected when you refused and constantly cried for your son and your daughter despite me being the one standing in front of you. All over again, or still, I just wasn't enough for you. Now I get what you meant. I was right when I thought I wasn't enough, but it wasn't about me, was it mom? You wanted the whole picture. The entire family. The way it was supposed to be. You were always looking at what was missing. So, in my rejection, I removed myself at times from your picture so you had more to miss. I'm sorry for that.
I understand you more in death that I ever died in life. Why is it this way? But I get it. I do and I agree. No mama, it was never supposed to be this way. We both had different visions and different dreams and life left us wanting. But was it ever supposed to be any particular way mama? Or were we just supposed to do the best we could and learn to adjust and adapt? We both went about it in different ways and it didn't do either of us any good, did it? Guess we still have some learning to do.
Mama, I know in your crazy world you chose life. Like me. Therefore, we did what we had to do to live. We fought and made mistakes. Sometimes terrible mistakes. You were quite the fighter and I learned a few skills from you. But I also learned that we are the same. The one that I fought hardest in my life was the one most like me. Our hurts were the same. Our desires, our dreams. The same. But our lives were quite different, weren't they? You kept looking for what you didn't have. Your idea of family, vacations, and all the regular kinds of celebrations. I was looking for what I didn't have too. Love and acceptance.
Our pain made us who we became. I'm so sorry mama. I really understand why you kept saying "It's not the way it was supposed to be." The words of love you could not say by themselves were hidden inside things you said. Your cryptic messages, which were meaningless at the time, said them.
I do miss you. With all my heart. I miss our talks, laughter, tears, hugs. I miss the mom I didn't have, and I miss hearing about the girl you might have been. I miss all the memories we never made. I don't miss any of the bad stuff, which is pretty much all of it, but I miss you. The person. The woman. The mother. The child that God calls his daughter. I felt his tears for you mama. Did he tell you? I heard him calling you to come home. I know you believed in Him and you were so angry at Him. I know that you believed you had good reasons. We all believe that. I hope you're happy. I am trying to be. I think of you almost every day and your pictures are on my wall and on my shelf. I wear your sweater when I get cold, and I put your nighties in a pillowcase and when I am lonely for you, I bring it to bed and hug it. Like our sleepovers. You really loved those and I was terrified. I was so afraid of you. I wear your purple shirt (because it fits now) that we wore that day to the Cancer Clinic. The best day I ever had with my mom. I use your dishes, towels, and see the depression glass it's beautiful colors on the window ledge. I am thinking of writing our story like I promised but I don't know if I can mom. Will it help anyone? I no longer wish to hurt or shame you, but you said you wouldn't care. So unlike you. My head still hasn't stopped spinning with that one. Well mom, wish you were still here. Don't miss the tangling but do miss the softer moments. Wish we had more of them. Oh, I have tried (a little) to keep in touch with Stevan. I tried calling him a while ago but there was no answer. The few times I did talk to him, he doesn't seem like he wants to talk. He misses you too.
I'm reminded of the promise to restore the years the locusts have eaten. It had great meaning during this process and I came across this blog God Can Restore Your Lost Years. Colin Smith explains so well exactly what that verse means. If our story helps just one person, then her life was not in vain. It did have value and meaning. May God perform a miraculous healing in all of us broken people and for the MNPD people in our lives. I believe they too were broken by someone. Theirs manifested in a horrible and destructive way and I am reminded "There but for the grace of God.." My mom could not be anything other than what she was. Do I believe she was evil? Not any longer. I believe she did evil, but don't believe that she was evil. Would I stay around an MNPD today? Absolutely not! Not for one blessed second and neither should anyone else. My position is after a lifetime of therapy, healing, searching, fighting, struggling, screaming, losing my mind, meditation, etc. etc. etc. I am now in my mid 60's and feel peace for the first time ever. It is a very foreign feeling.
