Bad memory

Happy Wednesday,

How are you all doing this evening? We are half way through another work week, so happy hump day. I hope the rest of your week goes smoothing-ly and that your weekend greets you with lots of love.

I’m excited for the weekend. I have two dear friends coming to visit on Saturday and we’re going to the Missing Person’s concert in the lake. Should be tons of fun. I’m hoping that it will relax me just being with my friends. Fingers crossed. With the chaos at home right now due to the leak, I sure could use a little break.

Tonight I’m staying at my nieces home. She’s been wonderful and has been taking care of Molly and Oreo since the leak, which caused my kitchen to be torn up. Hopefully I can bring them home for the weekend, that is as long as no work is being done. Since the pups have been with my nieces I thought I’d come stay the night and spend some time with them. I also wanted to clean up her back yard of all their little poopies and wash things down.

Tomorrow is an early day. I have to be in downtown San Diego by 8:30 for a pre-op appointment. I haven’t lost the 20 pounds the doctor wanted so we’ll see what the game plan is now. Hopefully he can get the hiatal hernia taken care of and I can stop with the vomiting sooner then later. I’ll also get a few more test results. I’m really curious about the swallowing motility test I did last month. That by far has got to be the worst test I’ve ever done. Anyway, when I asked the doctor for the results I was told they couldn’t post them in My Chart until I came in for a follow up. Don’t worry, I’m not letting the fact that that’s the only test result they won’t post in My Chart. I’m keeping an open mind, especially since I should have results by 9:30 tomorrow morning.

As I was reading through all my emails today, I ran across something that really overwhelmed me and brought up some rather sad memories. The quote that was posted said:

“One day my mother casually said, ‘we never worried about you, you always knew how to take are of yourself.’ And it broke something quietly inside me. Because what sounds like pride also feels like loneliness. It means no one ever really looked too closely, no one wondered if the strong one was tired. It means I learned to carry the weight so well that no one thought to help me set it down. And maybe that’s the silent cost of being ‘capable’, you stop being seen as someone who also needs softness. You become the safe place for everyone but never quite have one of your own. And in that moment, I realized strength had been my survival, but it had also been my isolation.”-Kristybarkley.

My parents were never really together, at least not where I can remember it. I didn’t know any different, so while I always dreamt of my dad, always wanting to be with my dad, my normal was just me an my mom until I was 10. That’s when she started dating the husband and shortly after, they got married. From the time she married him she would remind me that he was her new family. When she had two more kids with him, she would tell me often, “I have two families. I have you and I have them.” We were never blended. I was me and they were their own family.

When I got married at 17 to a man I knew less then 3 months and who was nearly 10 years my senior, Mother would tell me, “he’s a grown man, so he can take care of you now.” At one point she even thought of asking him to pay her for me. I think back in the old days they called that a dowry? She seriously thought of asking the man I was going to marry for upwards of $3,000. I begged her not to do that, but she in all honesty seriously considered it. I suppose my stepdad saved me from the embarrassment. Or should I say, he was probably smart enough to know if he asked a man who I barely knew for a dowry, he’d probably run.

After I was married I tried off and on to have a relationship with Mother, yet, we never really connected. We did for a short time after my first child was born, but up until that moment, nope.

Mother always felt the need to tell me that she had her own children to raise and she knew I was taken care of and that’s the reason she didn’t want to spend time with me. She always had an excuse as to why I was at the bottom of her list of importance.

When my sister was getting married for the first time to a man she didn’t want to marry, but Mother and her dad had already paid for her wedding, I was some how left off anything related to the bridal showers and wedding planning. I found out a week before my sister was getting married the day, the time and the place. I initially refused to go, but I complied with the demand because I was told, “your sister will be embarrassed if anyone asks about why you didn’t come.” UM, maybe because I was an after thought? Maybe because you had been to my home how many times, yet you claim you didn’t have the address to send the invitation. I shouldn’t have gone, but I did. After all, I was raised to be obedient.

You know, as I write tonight’s blog I was thinking how much my mother’s been on my mind lately. She’s alone. All alone. Except for her Kingdom Hall friends. She has no relationship with my sister because my sister was excommunicated from the religion nearly 20 years ago. My brother and his wife who lived in a second house on Mother’s property up and moved to Missouri. So yup, Mother’s alone. She doesn’t drive. Hasn’t dealt with finances in over 40 years. She lives in her home. Works in her garden. Quilts. Cross-stitches. Reads the Bible and listens to JW.ORG. Seriously, this is her life and has been for decades.

While thinking about my mother I think in some odd way, God, the Universe, or whatever higher power you may believe in, I can’t help but wonder, did He want me to see the quote. It hit hard. I’ve suppressed so many negatives in my life about my mother and maybe in some weird way I was thinking it’s my obligation as her eldest child to reach out and make sure she’s okay. NOPE!!! That ship sailed many, many, many years ago. The quote reminded me of this by brewing up the bad memories.

While these triggers surface every once in awhile and while she is my mother and in some pathetic way, I do love her, I don’t want her in my life. My entire life with her was nothing but sadness. She married me off at 17, barely 17. She told me many times, “I never have to think about you or worry about you, I know you’re just fine.”

As early as I can remember I had to take care of myself. So yeah, while I was fine. While I was and am a survivor. I do take an occasional stroll down the dream path and wonder, what is it like to have a mother. What would it have been like when I was struggling in my marriage to have a mother. What would it have been like when I was in and out of the hospital during my pregnancies to have a mother. My biggest I wonder is, what would it have been like to have a mother on my wedding day doting over me like she did with her other daughter.

When I got to my sisters wedding, I went to the bridal suite, which was on the top floor of I think the Tropicana in Vegas. It was huge. The bathroom alone was incredibly ginormous. Anyway, when I walked in the door of my sisters bridal suite where she was surrounded by all her family and friends, the first words out of my mothers mouth weren’t “hi, glad you’re here.” Instead, “OH MY GOD, YOU LOOK JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER.”

During the course of my life I have wished for a mother. I wished for a grandmother for my sons. I wished for someone who would guide me along this crazy path of being a woman with an older woman’s wisdom. I’ve wondered how to navigate my feelings. The things happening to my body. I’ve wondered a lot of things.

Mother told me once after I was married for awhile that she had asked her husband, my stepdad if she should tell me about sex. He forbid that. Mind you, I was raised in a very anti-sex religion. Sure, sex was allowed between husband and wife only. And it was only for the purpose of satisfying the man and for procreating. Sex wasn’t a topic for discussion. Ever. I wasn’t allowed to watch any sort of movie that had any sexual content. Yes folks, I was pretty naive to sex between a man and woman, well, a man and a teenager. I knew about some aspects of the “deed”, but only due to the abuse I endured from a babysitter. Mother said to me, I told your dad, god I hated when she referred to her husband as my dad. He never was my dad, nor was he a dad to me, he was horrible. Anyway, she said, “I told your dad that I hoped you figured out how to have sex.’

Honestly, that’s up for debate. I mean, I figured out the “deed”, but I figured out making love when I met John. Two very different experiences. Making love is so different then just having sex.

Oh boy, this was not a blog I saw me writing. I, for the life of me can’t figure out why the quote I saw was such a trigger for bad memories. Maybe writing this was my way to heal from the hurt of having a mother, but never a mom. Whatever reason this blog is being written, I’m feeling okay about writing it.

I recently heard an author say, “the best writers (in her opinion) write from the heart. They write what they know. When a writer writes what they know, the words just flow.” I think she’s hit the nail on the head. I just allowed my fingers to graze the keys and words just overflowed onto the page.

I’m sure this blog has tons of TMI, so thank you for getting this far and for all the love and support.

I might not of had a mom, but I have a few amazing folks out there who have lovingly stepped into my life and been loving and supportive step-in-moms, so thank you ladies.

Well guys, I think I’ve spilled a lot of muck tonight and I’m getting super tired. Having an autoimmune disorder/disease takes its toll on my body these days. Hoping for more answers. In the meantime, I’ll be doing my own research and I will be figuring out how to treat my symptoms and issues with a healthier lifestyle.

Until next time, don’t forget, Love Life++ Hugs.

Goodnight, sleep tight. Pleasant dreams my dear friends.