Talking to you…2/17/22

PARTS AND PIECES

No Manual, No Mother

Hi mom.

Wow, those words. I’ve never written them together. Now I can’t see through my eyes, darn it.

I read things. And lately, I’ve happened upon a handful that make me stop, maybe shed a tear or two, but mostly just think. Think about the life I’ve lead, but I mainly wonder off into a daydream about the life that could have been.

The other day, I read, “life doesn’t come with a manual, it comes with a mother.” Son of a bitch. I stopped and thought no manual, no mother?! Know wonder. I’m so stubborn and fiercely independent (not technology-I always ask for help). Having to advocate, or even thinking you have to advocate for yourself ALL THE TIME beginning at a young age turns you into something most others are not. I distinctly remember at three years old (the first time my mom went away for brain surgery and my brother and I were left behind) losing a chunk of trust, thinking to myself, I’m going to have to figure things out. And it wasn’t so much in words, but just a feeling in my gut. At three.

Recently I’ve come to the realization, that it is hard for me to accept support from others. And I’m not sure if it’s because I was never given that support, or because I’ve always pushed it away. I’m sure everybody who knows me would have a different opinion on that. Unintentionally, this past weekend, I might have come across the root cause of why I have never felt supported. Ok, I’m going to be more specific, emotionally supported. I’ve told you I was into sports, right?! Well, that is the only area I know I was supported, or I allowed it. It was easy to accept, they just showed up. My dad, and mom when she still could, and my grandparents (his) were at most every event I ever competed in. And I am beyond grateful for that, but get this, resentful too. Yeah, I resent it, because of all the term oil that swirled around my life, they chose to support the easy part, the fun and enjoyable part. I was always left wondering, but what about me?

I daydream that if my mom wasn’t so preoccupied by the brain cancer and keeping our lives as lite as kids lives should be, she might have swooped me up and told me that she really saw me, and she new how heavily this all weighed on me. But in reality, that swoop was given in her last hug to me while she lay in the hospital dying, with no words. Just a feeling in my gut I could circle back to throughout the rest of my life.

I am not a gentle person, but my heart is. It is the hardest piece to live with. And I’m afraid that is what happens when there is no manual, no mother.

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