(no subject)
I have been reading old entries from my livejournal. I made them all private, but I have entries going back to January of 2002. I have my very first entry, it's weird to be able to read my thoughts from that long ago. But I'm reading about stuff that I had forgotten about. I'm reading about Thanksgiving 2002. If you were my LJ friend back then, and you have a decent memory, you'll remember that it was the worst holiday I've ever had in my entire life. I went with my family, mom, brother, sister, and my sister's boyfriend who is now her husband. We went to Georgia and North Carolina, funny enough, we went to places that would be inaccessible now due to the recent storm. I was 18. I didn't know where I was going in life and I think my mom wanted me gone, like she wanted me to move out. I was working at Old Navy in the grove. My mom just rode my ass the entire trip, chastising me for everything. Have you ever been sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of a small sedan packed with 4 other people? It's the most isolating feeling in the world, I wanted to just disappear.
I recalled a specific story to my son. He's 16 now. During that Thanksgiving trip, we had stopped at a rest stop and my mom asked me to go in to the fast food place to get food for my brother and also get her a coffee. Well, I forgot the coffee. As a 40 year old adult, I am still forgetful. It just happens. Instead of being mad at myself, I just plan ahead, I put it into the plans that I'm going to end up forgetting something so I always have provisions (extra money to buy the thing I forgot, extra time to get the thing I forgot, etc). So of course, my mother was furious with me for forgetting her coffee. I wrote in that LJ entry that she chastised me for it for the rest of the day. We were visiting family for Thanksgiving, and my mother chose to use her energy to yell at me and make me feel bad. I was not permitted to speak for the rest of the day, if I said one single word then my mom would start up on her tirade again. I felt terrible for forgetting the coffee of course, my mom was doing most of the driving and I know she was tired from it. I don't know why I couldn't just go back and get her the fucking coffee, I didn't write that part in my lj but I do remember my mom always being weird about travel, like she had a thing about "making good time" and she loathed dawdling at rest stops.
Anyway, I was telling my son this story. Partially so that he can understand a little better about what I had do deal with, I want him to know exactly who my mother is because I am pretty sure they're going to try and contact him when he turns 18. They are good at manipulating people and I don't want it to happen to my son. Not again.
When I was telling my son that story, he said something that healed a part of me that I didn't even realize was broken. He said "why didn't your mom get the coffee herself?". And then something went 'pop' in my brain. Like... why couldn't she? Didn't she have to pee or get up or stretch? Why was I the one taking care of her when she was the adult? I was conditioned to *always* be concerned with how my mother was feeling. Isn't that fucked up? Today we can see that for what it is, abuse. It's abusive to force your children to be responsible for your mood. When you're a grown up, you are responsible for yourself! On the vacation I took with my son earlier this year, I did not ask him to do anything except take care of himself (which he does without asking anyway). He was not responsible for me, or my mood. He did not have to watch my face to gauge my non verbal cues. He did not have to pay attention to my gait to watch for stomping or "angry walking". I have a couple of photos of my mother, and when I try to make the face she's making in the picture, it makes my son laugh. Laugh! He can see my face making an expression that struck fear into my heart, and he is not afraid.
This is healing, this is a balm to my soul. I am healing, I am working hard to cover up the shit that was spread on my life, and that hard work is paying off. I'd rather eat my own feet before telling my son he was stupid, or that something he did was stupid (even if it was). My mother was a really great guide for how to be a parent, if I am ever wondering what to do, I just do the opposite of what she would do. That is working out pretty well so far.
I'm never going to be healed all the way. That's not me being a pessimist, that's just reality. I won't ever be completely healed, but I can continue to work on myself so that I can be the best parent I can for my son and step daughter. Parenting does NOT stop when your kids turn 18. Not even close.
Sometimes I look around and I feel like this life isn't even real. My life is exactly what I want it to be, I am happy and I have a happy life. I wish I could go back and hug that sad and angry 18 year old version of myself that was suffering through that Thanksgiving week so long ago. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It wasn't okay that I was being talked to that way by my own mother, my own family. She had a choice, and she chose wrong. She was not strong enough to break the cycle she was trapped in. I am.