Thanks, Lighter...ain't no justice in the heart.
When I speak of it (very seldom) I say, My D has estranged herself.
IOW, I know that she is estranged from me, but I'm not estranged from her
(or that's my way of using the word, not accurate). She's in my mind and
heart constantly. I yearn for the chance to love her, help her. I do find myself
lost in memories of her childhood, how vital and tender that connection was.
I miss her so much. Not the brutally unhappy, and unsafe, young woman she
is right now...but the inner girl, the loveable quirky one, the precious person
who befriended every outcast and loved animals more than anyone could
understand. I know and understand her so much better than she can credit
me for. But in a way, I think that's one reason she withdrew. Wrongly, she
feels shame for mental illness. And I believe she may feel it for the brutal
way she treated me the year she was here. I'm not sure, she behaved
remorselessly at the time. But I wonder, if it might not be one reason
she stays away. She knew right from wrong and yet, can't apologize.
And thank you, Tupp. You trigger the mother instinct in me, and
I'm grateful for the chance to express that in the world in a way that's
sometimes helpful. Reminds me of that old song from the 60s, "If you
can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with!" If I can
comfort someone, anyone, then I feel less useless.
I woke up crying this morning, and I know it's because Mother's Day
triggered so much pain. Deep underneath my busy-ness, that loss is
carving new shapes inside me. The yearning a mother, even a failed
one, has for a child, is cell deep. I just want her to be well, and come
find me one day when she's able to reckon that I'm human too.
One thing I wrestle with is the taboo (which is one reason I'm so
grateful VESMB is here). Even with most of my close friends, I just
don't speak about it. The reason is that they are SO uncomfortable.
It's like the way people used to be about suicide in a family. Or before
that, about cancer. Topics so threatening to the view of life as it "should"
be that to be open about them, or ask someone else about them, might
infect the asker. So, people don't ask.
Let me put it another way. There are one or two people who ask about
her that I DON'T want to talk about it with, because these two are people
I don't trust fully. One obvious one is my Nboss, who feeds off vulerability.
Another is a former workmate I'm still friendly with. But the few times I
explained a bit about my D, she was off and making pronouncements about
what D was doing/feeling, and overconfidently predicting: She will do this,
or that is what she'll learn, and then she'll do that, etc. And I couldn't listen
to it, because her desire to take control of the narrative and tell me what
was happening...made me feel invaded in a major way. And, because the
only way I can endure this situation is NOT to fantasize, or at least, to not
let anyone else lead me into fantasies. If it's not real, it's not my friend.
That goes for thoughts as well as people. So I try not to go there too often.
My own fantasies of her seeing my home (no idea if she will while I live)
are a simple comfort that I can indulge by myself. But even those, are
fantasy...maybe more likely simply because when I'm gone, she'd have
to turn up at some point in order to inherit it. Some days, the other fantasy,
which I'm not proud of...is NOT leaving it to her if she maintains the cold
forever. But 95% of the time, it comforts me to know that one day, my
little house could provide her either: something to sell to get out of her
gargantuan student debt, shelter if she wants to live here (now she hates
this town but that could change, or not), or provide her rental income
forever. Whatever she does with it, it's my way to leave her something
that matters.
And maybe one thing I think about in my small decorating decisions,
etc. -- is that even if she won't let me love her now, in some way, if
she never will, my little house can tell her so one day.
xo
Hops
