I talked to her today, quietly and honestly. I know she heard the hurt in my voice, as I told her that I couldn't use the money she gave me for my birthday, because if I bought sunglasses (or whatever), I would just feel hurt and rejection whenever I wore them because they came from her. She who said that I am now just the wife of her son, and the mother of her grandchildren. She who was my mother for so very long, and such an intimate part of my life. Too intimate for sure, but you cannot seperate from that closeness without being wounded, and even feeling the missing part long after the wound has healed.
I told her that I cannot feel good about keeping up such a sterile relationship. It feels fake. I desire a closer relationship with her other than only speaking when circumstances force us together, which is often. All the hurt from what she said to me, and what she says to others about me. gradually, but surely fades in my need for a loving mother. I remember the softness, not the hardness. I remember the love, not the disdain, and this ultimately brings me back to a place of yearning for that closeness, that sweetness that we had.
And maybe I perceived it a HELL OF A LOT DIFFERENTLY than she did. I was the child gaining sustenance from the parent, and she was the mentor doing her best to "raise" someone else's child. I perceived a commitment from her that she apparently was not giving. An unconditional love that was conditional.
I told her that in the future, she need not give me birthday gifts or presents of any sort. It does not feel good to me when I feel that I mean so little to her. It is a front. Something either done for appearances, or to make her feel good about herself for giving it to "her family".
I want to cry right now, but the release I am feeling from writing this is all I will get at the moment. I am needed as the mom downstairs.
Peace and Love I feel. The Light can only be felt in the presence of the Dark. Amen
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment