Today, Thanksgiving, is a day of loneliness for me. Despite that I spent the day with some friends and ate a wonderful meal, I feel a sinking all-over painful loneliness mixed with sadness.
This Thanksgiving I told my NM that I was not going to spend the holiday with her. She was very upset - I felt guilty. But I knew that I needed to stop taking care of her needs and separate from her once and for all. I am a separate person; her needs, agendas and emotions are not mine nor are they my responsibility and they are not my fault.
I didn't realize how much letting go of the disillusionment of togetherness, the meshing of me and my moms needs, would open-up the well of my repressed loneliness, it is an ache.
For years I have lived a 4 hour drive from my moms house. I have been financially independent. I keep my affairs, internal and external, private from her. She know very little of me and I long ago, in my late teens, I stopped trying to reach out to her for any kind of support, it was more like banging my head into a wall anyway. I suppose I have been physically and mentally separated from my NM for a long time. But today something shifted - I became willing to let go, take a leap of faith and trust that my mom will live, or survive, without my being there to affirm her needs. I have been the adult and she the child for so long. Now she is still the child and I am the separate adult (with a child within) who does not have to takecare of her anymore. I feel sad and alone because I am now the separate "I". I'm grieving the disillusionment of togetherness that has been my friend and I am grieving all that I gave up of myself in order to survive.
Day's like this I wish I could be serving and eating with the people in shelters who come, this one day of the year, to get a larger than normal meal and get out of the cold, the homeless:
They understand how it feels to not be seen.
They understand how if feels to not be heard.
They understand how it feels to not be valued.
They understand how it feels that no one cares about them.
They understand exploitation.
They understand oppression.
They understand what it feels like to not be wanted.
Next year I am going to spend the day at a homeless shelter not because I can serve up some food but because I can serve up a smile, warmth and genuine acknowledgement for their sufferings. I can look them in the eye with a bright gleam of love and silently convey that I know how they feel and I care.
Lise