A continuing quest to find bits of myself
It ebbs and flows but is always there, that nagging need to find her. The need to search, but the fear of what I will find. Maybe she's dead. Maybe she's a shell of her former self. Maybe... I think I am just not at the right moment, yet. I have a mission that begins when I get home. I will follow the leads that I have, I will not only contact her but I will see her. I will visit, whether I am visiting someone who not no longer there, or I am visiting a grave site or urn. I will find her. I know where to look. I think I fear that she is dead and don't want the confrontation with her family. I don't know them. I never met them, but I had heard so much. I know that her son liked to rub paper corners on his lip. I know silly shit like that. I was almost part of a different kind of family.
Some times a part of me wishes that I had gone, that I had let go of what I felt was my obligation to be with these people. I felt obligated because I was wanted and loved in some sense. This love was and has always been skewed and complicated, full of pain and insanity. I could have been a part of something more... Normal? More structured and comforting. More soft and embracing. Not so hectic and full of fear. But I also know that things didn't happen that way. I chose not to open up fully to her. I chose not to tell her how badly I wanted her to take me from all of it. I wanted so badly for her to rescue me. A big part of me just didn't know how to ask her to do that, was afraid of what my own mother would think and how she would react. I was afraid of causing her pain, I've always loved her so much and dictated my choices throughout my life on avoiding being the cause of pain.
Would I be different? Would I feel different than I do now, if I had been "rescued"? Would I feel the pain I felt? Would I care the way I do now for all of them? Would I want to? I could have been a completely different person, known completely different people, thought completely different.
I owe her something. I owe her my gratitude for at least letting me see that I could have always left if I wanted to. She let me see that not everyone is that way, not everything has to be a certain way. But I chose to stay. I chose to walk a tightrope over terrifying heights and hope that I made it to the other side with at least a shred of my sanity and self-love. I did, but her love for me gave me the strength to do so. And for that I owe her everything. I have two mothers and from them was borne a revelation.
Some times a part of me wishes that I had gone, that I had let go of what I felt was my obligation to be with these people. I felt obligated because I was wanted and loved in some sense. This love was and has always been skewed and complicated, full of pain and insanity. I could have been a part of something more... Normal? More structured and comforting. More soft and embracing. Not so hectic and full of fear. But I also know that things didn't happen that way. I chose not to open up fully to her. I chose not to tell her how badly I wanted her to take me from all of it. I wanted so badly for her to rescue me. A big part of me just didn't know how to ask her to do that, was afraid of what my own mother would think and how she would react. I was afraid of causing her pain, I've always loved her so much and dictated my choices throughout my life on avoiding being the cause of pain.
Would I be different? Would I feel different than I do now, if I had been "rescued"? Would I feel the pain I felt? Would I care the way I do now for all of them? Would I want to? I could have been a completely different person, known completely different people, thought completely different.
I owe her something. I owe her my gratitude for at least letting me see that I could have always left if I wanted to. She let me see that not everyone is that way, not everything has to be a certain way. But I chose to stay. I chose to walk a tightrope over terrifying heights and hope that I made it to the other side with at least a shred of my sanity and self-love. I did, but her love for me gave me the strength to do so. And for that I owe her everything. I have two mothers and from them was borne a revelation.