Hi You,
It’s my moms birthday in a couple days, and I never know what to get her. There have been few and far between moments where I have found something that I thought she would like. Or, what I thought was the perfect gift.
Gift giving has always held this love hate feeling inside of me. I love giving gifts, finding or creating something that truly fits the person. I love seeing their face when they realize that someone put that much thought into making sure it was just right. The other side of that, is the pressure to make sure it is perfect. Growing up my dad and stepmom instilled in us, that it had to be of a certain monetary value or it wasn’t good enough. It had to be there on time or it didn’t matter. To them, the saying, “it’s the thought that counts” didn’t exist. If it didn’t meet their expectations, let’s just say it wasn’t a good day. This created so much anxiety, so much stress. I started dreading holidays and birthdays. But there was no way out. It’s not like you could skip it, oh man if you did that. Actually, one year that was presented to Me and S, but that’s another letter.
Anyway, back from the tangent, back to mom. As I said, I love when gifts fit the person. But what do you give someone you don’t know. How do you find that perfect something that’s going to make their heart happy when you don’t know their heart? When they won’t let you?
This letter is hard to write. I know she’ll read this. She’ll feel this. As will others close to us. But I have to. I’m not going to hide from it. Things may be different afterwards, but I guess I better, “get used to different.” (#thechosentvseries) It’s not coming from a place of evil or bad intentions; it’s coming from my heart. Please also keep in mind, this is only my side. My story. My truth.
I don’t know my mother. She’s in my life, she raised me and my brother as a single parent, the majority of the time, but if anyone asked me about her life I wouldn’t have many answers. Sure I may know her favorite color is yellow, but I’m talking about the real stuff. The stuff that only your inner most circle could answer. With her, I’m on the outside. I’ve always been. That is where she put me as a baby, and that is where I have stayed.
You remember the game, Mother May I? I played that my whole life. Mother may I move two steps forward? “No, you may not.” Or worse, no response. I tried, over and over to break through. I have asked for mother daughter time, and got, “maybe, I can’t plan that far ahead. We’ll see.” Then no follow up or pursuing the idea. I tried letting her in on my love life, only to get some responses back that, that I can’t unhear. I tried to ask her about her life, but the normal response was, “I can’t talk right now, can I call you back later?” But never a call back later. The moment S and I decided we were going to take a break, something that no matter how bad it got, we never considered, this was real; I called mom first. I needed her. I needed to tell her. I wanted to hear, it was going to be ok. That she was there. I’ll never forget what I heard next when she answered the phone, “hey, how are you?” She said.
“Not great, S and I are not good. We are going to take time apart.” I replied.
“I’m out with my book club girls now, can I call you later?” She asked
“Um, yea…sure. I guess.” I was in shock. Could she not have stepped away for even a minute?
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Well, so says Albert Einstein. And who are we to argue with genius? Why should I keep reaching out, to be turned away? How much can one heart take?
As an adult, I started going to therapy, for what I thought was the estranged relationship with my dad and stepmom. To heal that piece of my heart. What I didn’t realize is there was something else bigger that needed it first. Another part that I kept disguising, with other hurt. My mother. I only realized this when my counselor did EMDR therapy on me, and the first and only thought that appeared was not what I was expecting. It was a moment in our old childhood kitchen with mom. That moment, right then, answered so many questions.
And that’s the Cliffs Notes version. With all that, I still and always will love her. The little girl inside of me doesn’t want to give up on ever feeling the mother daughter relationship that she’s dreamed about her whole life.
So, my gift to her, this birthday, is this letter. To tell her I’m still here. I’ve always been here. I’m not going anywhere. No matter how long we don’t talk. She is my mother. I am forever her daughter.
xoxo
Letters to You 