I like things to be perfect. In my control. I like everyone to feel happy.
I stress…and worry…and stress some more because the things I like to see are hard on my soul.
Most of the time, you see, they are out of my control.
I have had a hard and stressful few weeks. It has been many small stressors, and one big aggravating factor: my mother.
My mother is probably not well. I need to give her that. I should probably give her more empathy and understanding because of this, but my well has run dry.
My whole life, I have given her all of me. All of my effort. All of my attention.
Love. Comfort. Reassurance.
All of the things I needed from her, but never really received.
Life is about her. It always has been…and it always will be.
And, despite the fact that it is harder than hell to accept, I have got learn how to accept the fact that she will not change.
So–the last few weeks have been hard. Summer can be a little crazy, anyway. But my mom has gone into full attack mode, starting a family feud, placing me at the very center—in a place that is most unwelcome to me.
Those familiar feelings began to come out again–that awful dichotomy I seem to face too often. The one that tells me I need to protect myself by protecting my mother’s feelings and being the good daughter…or the one that tells me to tell her to fuck off and that I am D.O.N.E.
The former is my subconscious brain, clinging to what it knows. The latter is the new me, accepting the truth and realizing what I deserve. The current me is in the middle–straddling the two and vacillating between them.
The big difference, though? Through all the stress of the last few weeks, I did not fall apart.
And that is really freaking huge.
I relied on my support people. Friends. Church. I had a phone call with my therapist, who reminded me of so many excellent things, gave me words to say, and armed me with the fact that my mother’s battles are not my own.
I also leaned on my friend/new mom. I call her that with a smile. 🙂 She is old enough to be my mom, and has provided such a welcoming spot for me in life. I can talk to her honestly–and I do, frequently–and having her support has really balanced me out.
I have hated the fact, over the last year, that I need a mom figure and a mentor. I don’t know why I have been so resistant to it. But, I have. I have felt ashamed at the idea of needing one, especially because I knew my own would not be able to fill that role.
At some point, however, I simply stopped trying to over-analyze the situation. I simply accepted her friendship, without needing to worry about it.
Having someone I can call and talk to, text, and just visit with…God, that helps.
So, while I still grieve what my mother is not, and while I still struggle so much with both not caring and caring too much, I can say, without a doubt… I am growing.
Not by myself. But with the help and support of others.
I am learning, in other words, that, instead of falling apart, I can find others who help and, together, we can move on.