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Lately I have been thinking about James. This month will be the 13th anniversary of the day I left his daddy. I miss him so much, James, not his daddy.
I don’t know if it is the holiday season or just by chance that I can’t get him off my mind. When I get this way, I wind up dreaming about him at least once. I guess I dream about him 2-3 times a month. It is always a dream where we’re getting together for something or the other and it is as if we have not went 13 years not speaking. I awaken with the most depressed heart & spirit. To dream it is over yet to awaken to the fact it was only a dream. It hurts so much.
I used to write James 3-4 letters a WEEK! That first couple of years I did. I would also call his number but he would never talk to me nor did he ever respond to any letters or emails. I would try to explain why I did what I did. Explaining how it is not how I wanted to do things but his daddy forced my hand. Describing what it felt like to not have him (James) in my life.
I would write and remind him how close we once were; how whenever he was in trouble it was me he came to, not his daddy. I would tell him again about the four years it took me to become pregnant with him and how the doctor had already given up on it happening.
I eventually began telling him about things I had kept hidden from him and his sister all those years. The abuse; the spying on me; how his daddy would mark my tires in the driveway to see if I went off during the day while he was at work. Showing up on my job at midnight to see if I went straight to my car or if I stopped and talked to anyone. At this point in our lives, I had never, ever, given him any reason to not trust me, none!
I no longer know my son. I don’t know what he likes to eat. I don’t know what his thoughts are politically. I don’t know how he feels about everyday happenings in the world. I don’t know how he deals with his children, or his wife. I don’t know what he does for a living; or for fun.
Oh God how I love him; how my heart yearns for him.
I was angry with my mother for a long, long time. All manner of understanding and consideration of her circumstances never helped me to “get it”. Now, at 52, I get it.
When my mother was 35, she walked out on my daddy, and of course that meant me as well. I was 6. She ran away with a man she had begun seeing from work. After a few weeks, from what I have been told, she was left there in the motel room they had been living in when the guy decided to go back to his wife and kids. I am told he called my father and told him where she was and that she was talking about suicide. Daddy immediately went after her.
Life went on as usual. The only thing that changed was mother had to leave her job and go to work somewhere else so that she would not be around this man any longer. That was daddy’s only requirement to her coming back home. Otherwise nothing changed. No one talked. The only speaking that was done in our home was reminding someone to pick up some milk or telling someone to be sure and sweep the porch before night. It was years before I understood that in some families’ people actually talked to each other; even when they didn’t “need anything”. Some parents hugged and even kissed their kids. Why some parents hugged each other! Wow!!
Six years later, she was 41 and I was 12, she left again. This time it was with a different man. Someone at her new job. I was warned that eventually I would have to g to court and tell a judge which parent I wanted to live with. I was also told which parent to choose; this by my only sibling, a sister. She is 10 years older than me and she eloped at 15 so she was already gone by time mother left the first time.
I understand now. I spent a lot of years being mad at her. She doesn’t know that, but I did. Was what she had done wrong? Of course it was. Very wrong. Was she human? You bet she was! I understand now.
The one who caused the pain hurts just as much if not more. >They would never ask for pity - they don't want nor expect pity. They just want you to know. This song says it all.
Gosh. Another one. Funny how they sneak up on you after so many. I wonder how many more. I wonder if they will all be as dreaded as this one and the past few. Sometimes it would just be easier not to have any more, to..uh..celebrate. Shouldn't be listening,but...
I hope the mothers out there had a peaceful day. I know the cards all say, "Happy" Mothers Day, but I believe peaceful is just as good. As mothers, some of us carry around extreme loads of guilt. Guilt for either things we did or failed to do, or guilt for ways in which we perceive we failed our children.I have plenty of guilt myself. I was never"mothered" as a child so the mothering I did I learned on my own. Some of it was good, some of it was not. I was young, and chances are I was bipolar as well. I have learned this about guilt; number one, ask your Heavenly Father to forgive you. He will. Next, ask forgiveness from those you have wronged. They either grant you that forgiveness or not but if you ask in earnest that is all you can do. Then, FORGIVE YOURSELF. That last part is the hardest part. You may have to do it several times over several years. Keep doing it until it "takes", lol. "Fake it till you make it" as the old saying goes.I forgive myself, again today. On this Mothers Day, 2011, I forgive myself for not being perfect.
I've been sitting here listening to some of the top 100 songs from 1999. I can listen to this genre of songs and it carries me back like certain smells will do.
I don't remember other years like I do this one. I mean sure, I remember the 70's because that is when I was young and semi-free. 1999 now, that was when I became free again for the first time in 24 years. I like the songs, but the feelings they leave me with is mixed.
On the one hand, I love remembering the freedom, but on the other hand I feel much older than the short 12 years it has been. I feel like I have lost part of me along the way.
Middle age?
Every year I dread the day that mothers across our land are receiving flowers and cards and other tokens of appreciation and love.
It isn’t that I don’t want to wish my mother a happy Mothers Day. Oh no. I settled that ghost in my mind a long time ago. I know in my heart my mother did the best she could at the time, given the tools that had been passed down to her. I love my mother. I even talk to her several times a week now.
No, it is me. I was (am) a mother. Evidently I was a worse one than I remember, although I too did the very best I knew how, given those same tools that were given to me.
Regardless of how bad things got between my mother and me, I never once forgot to remember her on Mothers Day. In 45 years, I never failed to send her a card if nothing else.
Mothers Day is not an opportunity to “bless” your mother depending on what kind of job she did. It is not a “payback” based on your opinion of how she raised you. It is simply a “Thank You”. Thank you for trying. Thank you for caring. Thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for loving me even though you may not have been very demonstrative about it. Thank you for getting up during long nights when I was sick. Thank you for doing your best to teach me to be kind to others.
Bless your mothers this Sunday; and every other day too.
I must get back to my writing. It gives me a sense of accomplishment when I can actually get pen to paper (so to speak) and now that I am unemployed (after giveing Huge Corporation the best 10 years of my life) I need that sense of accomplishment.
I will try my best not to do the "depression/manic swing" type of posts any more.
Welcome back me
:-)
Okay. I am down off my, "OH MY GOSH I'M GONNA BE A NEW GRANNY" high. I have been properly put in my place by a gentle reminder that, "No. You will probably NOT be keeping him at your house every week". I know. I understand. It is going to be tough with this one though.
Today, I received some HUGE news! I am so excited I can barely get to sleep. My daughter is preggo.....again!!!
She has three daughters, ages 15, 14 and 8 and now we have another little on the way.
With the first two, I didn't work and they would stay with me for several days at a time several times a month. That was so wonderful. When the last one was born I was working and after being at work 9 hours every day and being just plain old wiped out, I didn't have the energy to have her over even on weekends. I am looking forward to creating that bond with this one.
Welcome little one; and HURRY!!! Granny loves you.
As this old year has come to an end, my mind has driven into overdrive. I hate it when I do this.
We live in an area that has 3 major universities within a 50 mile radius. There is one particular grocery store I go to that always has a lot of college students shopping there. Tonight was no different.
As I saw one after the other going down the isles, I began thinking about the world I missed out on. I wondered what it would have been like to go to college. What my dorm room would have looked like, or would I have lived off campus in an apartment. What kind of friends I would have made. What kind of grades I could have maintained. Would I have been a partier; or settled in with just a close friend or two.
Then, I thought about where I would be career wise had I got an education. Would I be in medicine? Would it be human or animal? Would I have married or chosen to remain single.
Finally, I began thinking about the mistakes I have made in my life. Where I’d be if I had shown more self-control in some areas. How many people would not have been hurt by my actions?
Maybe it isn’t just the new year coming quickly upon me. Maybe it is the fact I am 50. Fifty sounds so ancient to me. It sounds like I should be further in my life. Have more to show for 50 years I have been here. Be happier, more content, instead of looking back over the mistakes I have made and where I’d be had I not made them.
I love everyone in my life. I would not have traded my loved ones for anything, so this is not a slam against anyone. Some of them I would not have had I not taken the roads I took.
I just can’t help but think though. Should there not be more out there to show for 50 years?
I heard the Terry Jacks song, "Seasons in the Sun" today. I was reminded of climbing trees, playing ball in the neighborhood, riding my mini-bike, playing in the yard with my dog.I remember hurrying through homework so I could get outside with my friends. Playing so long and so hard. Getting all sweaty and dirty. Hurrying through supper so I could get back outside with my friends.I miss my friends.
I used to pretend everything was different. Outsiders would never have guessed. I don't even have the energy to pretend any longer. Not even just for me.
I was not a perfect mother. Matter of fact - I was FAR from it. I had just turned 16 when my daughter was born and I had no clue how to be a mother.I was a yeller and I was way too strict. I used a little paint stirrer stick for spankings. I expected A's when B's and C's should have sufficed. I did not buy her name brand clothes and for that she suffered ridicule from her peers. She didn't get to go to all the functions she wanted to go to, and according to her when she did go she felt like she was a "charity case". I was a stay-at-home mother and we just didn't have the money for these things every time.I took my child to my shrink years ago when she was 15 and asked her forgiveness and along with my shrink explained why I mothered in the fashion that I did. I was abused horribly as a child, and my mother had it even worse when she was a child. I'm not placing blame, just explaining how things turned out the way they did. Over the next 15 years, I allowed her to "vent" to me about how bad her childhood was. She was allowed to say whatever she needed to say and I answered any questions she had. I won't attempt to guess how many times I have apologized for my actions. I also know that no matter how many times I apologize, nothing could make up for the actions she suffered from.As a grandmother, the first few years of the grandchildren's lives I kept them a lot. The first two, I kept for days at a time several times a month for 2 or 3 years. I enjoyed every minute of it. Once I went to work outside the home, and as my mental health has become worse, I have had no energy - physical or mental - to keep them or go to games and other functions that they participate in. Working from 8 until 5 every day then going straight to a ball game or whatever it happened to be was just too much for me. This caused friction with my daughter as well.Her youngest child, has behavioral issues and does not like to be told "No" nor be told what to do. She will for instance, aggravate the dogs and when told to stop she will turnright around and do it again. She doesn't allow adults to talk without constantly interupting them. I had never been around a child who behaved this way and after trying to keep her at my home without her mother once, and having to call her mother to come get her, (which NEVER happened with the others), I knew I could not keep her for visits. Because of this, my daughter told us that if we can't keep her we can't keep the other two either. She said it wasn't fair. A few months ago, she made several comments pertaining to her childhood and how sorry it was and how she would never put her children through the same thing. She HATED how she couldn't wear "nice" clothes and she HATED how she couldn't go to all the extracurricular activities she wanted to go to and she was determined her kids would have better. After the last vent session, and a comment made on facebook about how she believed she was born to aliens and put in our family, I decided in my heart that I was finished letting her say things to me about it all. I cannot take it back and I feel like 15 years of letting her "vent" is enough. As I get older these things were beginning to wear on me more and more and my mental health is not in the category of "healthy" to begin with.I wrote her a letter and told her I no longer wanted her to tell me about how bad a mother I was and how bad her childhood was. I tried to explain it in as nice a way possible while not taking away from the fact she did have a rough childhood.Since then, she has had very little to do with me. Mothers Day came and went with no word. This isn't the first Mothers Day I've been ignored, but it bothered me the most. I'm sorry I wasn't a perfect mother. I'm sorry she felt so "different" from the other kids because she didn't have the name brand clothes. I'm sorry she didn't get to go to every function and that she felt she was a charity case. I did the best I knew how to do at the time, with the resources available to us on my husbands income. I would have loved to have had more clothes instead of wearing the same 2 or 3 dresses to church every week. I would have loved to have been able to do some things I enjoyed as well. Instead I was too busy doing my best to keep a home for four people on a one person budget. I am very happy that her husband is able to provide all these things on his income alone so that she doesn't have to work. He obviously makes much more money that her daddy did. I am happy that her kids won't come to her one day and complain about what they didn't have or where they didn't get to go. I hope she never has to feel the way I feel at this stage in my life.
In my nearly 50 years, from the time I was old enough, I NEVER forgot my mother on Mothers Day. Nor did I ever ignore her. We may not have been close, but I have always respected the job of raising me that she did her best at.I forget now just how many mothers days have passed that I have been forgotten or ignored by my children.
