I've been thinking about this for an hour or so. I've no earthly clue as to when this growing up event will occur but it will be glorious of that I am sure.
My mother never wanted me to succeed. Or more like, she wanted me to succeed within certain limits that would keep me from a) ever living anywhere but in the guest bedroom, and b) working with any sort of people that were above the age of 4. Yes it was her dream that I become a kindergarten school teacher.
My mother is this incredible force. Everything we had, we had because she sacrificed her life to make her children happy. Before they divorced after 16 years of marriage she was a slightly different person. She would let us play outside, down the street, when it was dark. She'd let us ride our bikes up to the store for candy. We could breathe then. She also was far less materialistic. But she's always been angry. Had always been violent.
When we were children we could determine the kind of night it would be by the morning we'd had. My mother somehow thought she could control everything. Everyone. She couldn't have because she had enough common sense to let us breathe back then. Still if it was a great morning with smiles, the evening would be the polar opposite and vice versa. Mom was most certainly bipolar. Violent, angry, uncontrolled, rapid cycling, refusing of medication or help scary.
When they divorced, my mother decided that this would not happen to her again. She started making all of these rules. I was no longer part of the equation as I sought emancipation. After all I was 14 and had all the answers. I would have never been allowed my own life, at least not until I was married and out of the house. Everyone has always pushed me to just follow these rules, but I know the place that they come from. I wasn't okay with it then, and I am not okay with it now. I need to breathe, breathe on my own terms without constantly having to traverse the gauntlet that is constant manic violent behaviour.
She is caught in this place where she wants me to be happy and do something great with my life, but she doesn't want that happiness to exist outside of the confines of her and the family. So afraid was she to let me go out and find my happiness fearing that it would mean I'd never come back. So I left. Moved away, hid away. That didn't work so I left the country. I found myself and my own strength. It took a while, but I managed it.
One day though, I knew she'd try to reconnect. I knew I'd have to rip the bandaid off and tell her exactly why I cannot have her in my life. Why I would not allow her to be a part of my children's lives. She'll hate me for it. She'll think I'm just making another mistake that will reflect badly upon her and her well constructed facade. So I continue to keep her at province distance and live. Live quietly, but happily.
When I grow up, I'll look her in the eye and finally say good-bye.
When I finally grow up.
No comments:
Post a Comment