Return to the Roots

I don’t often blog about being a motherless daughter.  Even less often, I blog about being a fatherless daughter.  I’ve been thinking about everything a lot lately due to some family troubles and just wanted to get some things out into the universe.

Basically, my “situation” (is that what I should call it?) has changed me.  I find people quite easy to leave behind.  If you’re not dedicated to me the way I am to you, then I have no problem leaving you behind.  Essentially, I see no point in wasting my time on rainy day friends and seasonal friends.  This also means that most of the time I’m much more dedicated to people than they are to me.  It also means that my heart gets broken and I am disappointed by little things.  Things I would do without a second thought… most people wouldn’t.  I also have no problem completely dedicating myself to something if it is what I want.  It is when I start to waiver that I push it away and go on to something new.  I do it in everything… relationships, careers, interests… In my mind, I can’t see past 32.  My mindset basically has me living for the next four years and not far beyond.  So, if they want to change me, or it requires more than I can give, or if it consumes too much of what I hold dear… I move on.  Because… eventually… I am going to be all that is left.

It also means I think about the future.  My grandparents aren’t very young.  They’re both over the life expectancy of a normal human in today’s world.  My grandmother is well into her 80’s.  My grandfather is living with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s.  My brother, as has been the theme for most of our life, really doesn’t have anything to do with me.  The bridges to my father’s family were burned a long time ago… and in most cases beyond repair.  My dog’s muzzle is slowly turning snow white and next year he fits the age bracket for “Senior” kibble.  Even the Brown Pillow, the “security blanket” I have had by my side since I was 2 days old… is growing so loved that it doesn’t exist in some places.  Basically, in a time in their lives when most people are going to be frustrated with their own families and fighting over what parents they are going to spend Christmas with and in-law visits and who gets to go to who’s house for which holiday… I’m going to be alone.  My absolute worst fear.

And I can’t expect anyone around me to understand that.  I can’t even begin to explain that however much my grandmother drives me insane and calls me incessantly… She reminds me that above all else, she’s there.  I may not like her all the time and she may not always realize that I’m not her dead daughter, but she is there.  She may not love me unconditionally.  She may not love the person I really am underneath the carefully constructed facade.  (I actually know for a fact that there is no “may” in that statement.)  I know some of my friends can empathize.  They’ve dealt with absent fathers, unresponsive mothers, unfaithful spouses…. and in some respects I’m thankful that my parents are dead.  I’m thankful that I don’t have the thought that my parents are out there and just don’t want me.  I can at least harbor the thought that maybe, just maybe, if my mom and/or dad were alive, they wouldn’t worry about tattoos or poor life choices.  I like that think that maybe my parents would be the cool ones.

I don’t want to be alone.  I know, no one does.  I know I don’t have much of a choice.  I’ve got my cards in my hand and I know what I’ve been dealt.  No amount of wishing or cheating is going to change what has been laid out on the table.

And I’ve read the books.  I’ve been through the therapy.  I know what I’m doing when I do my coping mechanisms.  I just don’t ever know what to do about it.  Its been 20 years.  Well, this January it will be.  You’d think I would have gotten used to the idea that some day… I’ll be completely alone here.

More than anything, I want to sit on my couch and just talk to someone who just knows I need to get it out and help me figure things out.  I know I’m supposed to be an adult who makes their own choices, but you never stop depending on the people who have known you your entire life to help you through tough decisions.  Unfortunately, cancer and an unfortunate accident has left me with two people who think I’m my dead mother part of the time and spend the other part trying to form me into what they wanted my mother to be… and one person who should be my best friend but couldn’t even tell you where I live or what I look like right now.

In a way, I guess I’m already living my worst nightmare.

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3 responses to “Return to the Roots

  1. hugs from another motherless daughter. my journey is almost three years old. thanks for writing. thanks for letting me know i’m not alone. thanks for talking about the same things i feel and need.

  2. I really feel for you and I wish I were there so I could sit on your couch with you and we could talk. You aren’t that far away right? I may not know exactly what you are going through but I can certainly empathize with your pain.

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