You read it first.

Below is a post I found in the drafts…Go easy on me.  I didn’t even re read it.

I love you, but I don’t like you very much.”  My mother.

The Dream.
The dream. I was in a glass house, not unusual for me. The house is full of mirrors and I’m standing on a scale, looking in the mirrors. Also not unusual as I have lived with my anorexia for a long time now…though I like to say it lives with me. So I’m on the scale, I’m very thin, and there are two of my moms. Yep, two. One behind me and one to my right. The one to my right says,
“You are missing the wrong mom.”
And I throw my arms around her and hug her- she’s my REAL mom. See, that mom behind me is the one I’ve been grieving for years now…The one I put on a pedestal and credited all of my best knowledge with. The one my friends would say is “so wonderful” but the truth is, most of the time, she wasn’t wonderful. Or even there in my life. Fake mom said that horrible quote about not liking me, causing me to feel as if love was something a person HAD to do- even if you were their child.  And so, “real” mom pointed out that it’s time to put fake mom away and start dealing with life on real life terms.

Journal Entry.
So I think my father projected his own failure into me until I became the failure.  I know that my parents ruined my childhood. they ruined my childhood and almost my life, with their own crap and they felt so guilty about it that they projected their own failure into me until I accepted that I was a failure. so much easier to just tell me how I’m failing instead of looking at how they failed me.  I’m really angry at my father for what he denied me. Angry at my mother for what she denied me. Angry at what they denied me by denying each other…and now I’ve done the same thing- denied me.

I love my parents.  All these years later, despite the things that have been said and done, I know that they love me.  When you are dedicated to knowing yourself, to treating yourself with compassion, mercy and grace, you learn to bestow it upon others.  When you begin to see yourself and stop blaming everyone else, you will see that they too did the best they could…and that you don’t have to put up with what they continue to do…and that you can’t make them give you what they don’t have.  you can’t fix your life, your past, your relationship with them, and or the things that you have deemed wrong with them by reliving the past, now.  I spent a lot of time writing the script of my past into the script of my future…and neither of them have ever allowed me to live now.  The trick is to see what was, to accept what is and to live as if there is always room for improvement.

Good, bad, real, fake, now, then, was, is…It’s all so confusing at times.  The fact that we have to search through who we were, where we’ve been, what we’ve done, just to find out who we are, where we are and what the heck we are doing…well, that doesn’t help.  Use the past, but don’t dwell in it.  Grieve it, but get lost in it.  “The past makes us who we are.” but “We are not our past.”  It’s no wonder we find as much comfort as pain in the past…

But what if our freedom could be found in it too?

  1. #1 by Running from Hell with El on April 21, 2013 - 1:08 pm

    Wow. I could’ve written this. I just love it.

  2. #3 by Dixie on April 22, 2013 - 11:29 am

    Reminds me a lot of me and my parents…I know they did the best they could at the time. I think this is why I waited so long to have a child of my own….

    The past is just that…the past. It never changes but we do and if we’re fortunate, we grow from our past as well as the pasts of others.

    Beautifully written… thanks for sharing =)

    • #4 by foundedna on April 22, 2013 - 11:41 am

      Thank you for your comment and for reading me. I had children young and coincidentally (but not really) my life started pivoting when my oldest turned 13- the age I was when my life really fell apart. I think I would have fallen apart sooner- had I been free of an abusive relationship and neck deep in codependency.
      My children are like triggers for me- tho I hate that word- and my youngest just turned four- also a significant time in my life. Basically my subconscious spits out repressed everything in the order of my children’s ages. I can’t wait for my oldest to turn 36 as I should be out of the woods by then!
      I am thankful that now I can go through these things- even though the grief is like a weight and the effects are physically debilitating- this time, they pass. I do however find that I often feel overwhelmed…grieving what I never had and what I won’t have now, giving up the ideals and dreams…well that hurts like hell. Yet- I’d never trade this experience for anything.
      Thank you again- I really needed this.
      In gratitude,

  3. #5 by artzbaglady on April 22, 2013 - 7:15 pm

    to start with I love you , I loved you the first time I laid eyes on you.
    Ok, having said that ,
    I hated my father for being alive, I hated my mother for dying when i never really knew her, when I was in my 40’s I had a near death experience that opened my eyes. I didn’t hate either. they were just not able to be there for me. I tried to let some friends, and my one grandmother fill that void. Well that didn’t work, so I tried to live someone Else’s life , cause I liked theirs, that didn’t work. When forced by health reasons to go back to college. I changed my whole being. I learned that I could do things, I wasn’t stupid, I could put myself into a life I wanted and would love it. Funny thing is it for the first time in my life was NOT about the almighty dollar and relatives expectations There is probably a book in there but I can’t write, do you want to write it for me.? I learned you see I am good at some things and really suck at others and its ok I don’t have to be perfect. If I could fix someone it would have to be my son, all three granddaughters and you, on equal shares. I learned I can’t fix anyone but I have a good ear am good at a lot of things and have a lot of ways to give or share hope. For now and for me the only hope I have is to believe God – probably the one in “The Shack”, loves me and died to forgive my sins. I figure after some of the dumb shit I did She must be dizzy or ditzy, trying to keep me on the list. My hope is to die well and to go to God’s house. Only it’s on Her time not mine. so I try not to screw up my family anymore than necessary or whatever word fits. I loved your father like a brother and never felt like I really knew your mother. But I always wanted to butt in and tell your mother how wrong she was to make you her “star” because I couldn’t see ‘ love’ . Oh by the way I would like at times to kick your behind because of the hell you put yourself through when I think you have and are able to take care of you . I don’t make good choices in men. doesn’t mean I don’t miss being with a man, it simply means I do not make good choices when it comes to men.

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