I wrote this post on Friday, on Sunday I came down with a killer flu/virus but on some level it felt so much more than that, my entire body was burning up both with the virus and post trauma memory as wave upon wave of trauma memory hit. I thought I might die with the seering pain. Its taken some days to resurface and some help from a body therapist today. As I go to post this and read it back I see the anger with my Mum, which to some degree errs on the black side, but often life doesn’t give us the best ‘fit’ with our mothers. I have struggled to mother and emotionally nurture as I never was but neither were either of my parents That said I am going to post this blog. On here I just express : emotional truths live and then die. I am working to find the mothering I need from reliable sources instead of empty vessels.
When I see you Mum it always hurts. There is this pain deep down inside I carry for all I wanted from you and all you hoped to give. I see how frustrated you feel that I have not been able to live the happy life of your ideal. Instead I was a real child who had so many needs you could not see and feelings you did not understand. You get angry at me for speaking my truth and then try to guilt/shame me with the way I should be grateful for how hard you worked to give us a better life. Mum I see and my heart aches but you will never understand we needed so much more. So now I am a frustration, the emotional truth teller you wish would shut up but feel safe enough to cry out all your own pain with because I recognise it so deeply.
So once again I put it all aside. I pack and lock it up in a suitcase deep inside until I can carry my bags away from our meeting and unpack them in private.
I think you are insecure you said to me. Yes Mum insecure attachment : go figure You never held me in mind But I don’t expect you to understand : how could you, its all beyond the grasp of a mind that sees only the surface of what occurs and that is how you survived but please don’t ask me to survive that way. I have a heart that bleeds and believe me I don’t reject all that you say and wish for a happier life, one not always full of this worrying and wanting for things from a family so desperately unable to give me anything at all and caring so much only to get kicked in the face, Oh and while I vent my spleen thanks for choosing my sister as the person you would rather have been with all those years ago because I was ‘too sad’, when I was grieving not only the end of my marriage but the loss and deep emotional absence of my father too as well as all the other lost relationships where true love was never really shown to me, only judgement. They took what they wanted and failed to care for the hurting girl inside who had gone through such loss. Why, oh why did I blame myself? Because you blamed and shamed me and left me all alone in it with nowhere to go. FUCK YOU!
But fuck you isn’t all because love still remains underneath the hurting That said I am sick of trying to support and heal the consequences of things I never caused, was only a lonely witness to. Sometimes I feel I am dying deep inside. I see the care lines in my face worn with dramas of later years the illnesses that beset you because you would not reach deeper I was the exile – the ‘drama queen’ the alcoholic I remember when I told you I was in recovery you said to me ‘no one else has a problem in this family’ and ‘you were always a late developer’.
Like a sick, sad puppy I kept coming back, denying? I don’t know. Longing? Hoping that things would change? Swallowing down how I really felt and leaving my body to bear the cost. Singing hurting cells left to cry out in agony all the things my heart wont admit to my mind. Anchored here under a dead weight before our meeting I start a poem on depression paralysis tic knowing I am going forward to yet another encounter where you will try to get me to deny all that I know just to win your love and part of me will be paralysed as my true life blood, energy and power drains away.
Mum I am so tired. I see how much pain you have but I also see that to admit the entire truth to your mind might completely undo the dream image you have that dissolves to dust when you face a truth too hard to swallow a hurtful pill too bitter to taste. And yet a wiser part of me knows that to ask what I have asked of you is doomed to fail and perhaps was never meant to be, perhaps rested on emotional immaturity. For now I must be my own parent (as well all, must for that is growing up) and quit this longing so as to grieve and finally let go of all I never got. Its a journey and a process and it takes time, that is all I know and letting go doesn’t come until things are processed and let us go of us.
Sunlight streams on a peaceful day I am happy to be able to spend alone in a place where I can lay my burdens down and reach for self nurture. Everything in me wants to forgive for the cost of holding onto angst is too much to bear but sadness will always remain, a weary sadness of the battered ocean sailor/deep sea dreamer who suffered years tossed about on a small raft besieged by wild seas and then dove so deep down to find hidden wreckage at the bottom of that wild ocean. I am not earth dweller but sea farer, wayward deep sea diver often lost and wandering sometimes found when glimpsing deep truths in those miraculous ocean pearls of multicolours, found at the bottom of that deepest ocean which has been my personal, maternal and ancestral life.