Will I ever make it home....: Maybe tomorrow, I'll find my way home.....

Will I ever make it home....

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Maybe tomorrow, I'll find my way home.....

This has been a draft for awhile. Enjoy!

My mother. What can I say. I never thought I would this personal on here, but this is somehow therapeutic. There is some sort of anonymous freedom granted when writting on here, as opposed to having to look at someone in the eyes and explain all this. But here goes. I just can't begin to describe her. She is just such a character. I think we all have that one family member in our families that is just an embarassment. You know who I mean. That person who just can make your life hell when you are growing up and takes you back no matter how old you are. That person has always been my mother. She just has this personality. It's like a magnet. But a bad one. Not real. She's the single most superficial person I have ever met. She is all about exterior, non-meaningful, material crap. AND that's all it is to me now. I was a little carbon copy of her, made her damn proud I am sure. Old habits die hard. She calls me from time to time. It's odd. I wont answer. Out of fear. From myself? From her. From how I get when she talks to me. Everything becomes a big, blurry mess in my head. She has that effect. She can do that. AMAZING, I know. But she can. She has this invisible chain that she tugs at will, like I'm her damn dog on a leash. She knows what buttons to push. How to break me down to nothing with a single sentence. I have suffered through a couple "mental disorders", all thanks to my mother. I still do, no one ever recovers fully. There's no drug I can take to delete her voice out of my head. No pill I can swallow to erase those memories. No where to run and hide from my mind. I can't leave it. No matter how I try. What I accomplished is mirred by her desolate tone in my head. Everything I have done, resonates her capacity to make me feel like I am worth nothing. She is the only person who can do that to me. I am a failure in her eyes. Always have been. But I'm not really. I wonder what life would have been like if she were different. Or even if I were different. But I can't even begin to understand that concept. Because what I have lived is all I know. I am still isolating myself from people. I keep my distance. I keep my heart neatly tucked away. Because if I don't then I will break down. Again. And that wouldn't be good. I married someone who was so much like my mother, you'd think I was this handicapped person who was addicted to that emotional abusive relationship I had with my mother. I did not realize that it was abusive. Till now. I know better. I could never hurt my son, like she hurt me. Maybe I am a failure. Who knows? I know I will never measure up to her standards. I can not be perfect. Even if I do try my damned best to be. But I can't be perfect. I never will be either. I'm not thin enough, educated enough, pretty enough, and I am not at all good at keeping relationships. I have failed in the one place where I thought I could beat her. Marriage. She quit on that, and I thought I could make it work. Prove her wrong for once. But I failed at that, too. I don't know what else to say about her. Except that I hope to never be like her. Even though each day, I am more like her. Yet, I have not begun to understand anything about her. Why she was how she was. Why she was so selfish. Why did we not make her happy? I have no clue. I have resented my choice to keep my child. Believe me....It's true. I hate to admit it. But had I not gotten pregnant and experienced what I have, I wouldn't be able to at least have her respect. She probably has none for me now, granted she has gotten served with the lawsuit (blah blah blah!)....but I think she did for awhile. And she had that coming to her. A cocked gun can't stay loaded forever. There is only so much that I am willing to accept and that was the last straw.
I try and I try to be "normal" but what is normal to begin with? I don't know what it means or how to get there anymore. Is there really an expectation of people for us to be normal? Why can't I just settle for unique or unordinary?All I have been in my life is this pretty shell, empty on the inside with nothing to really fill up all the space enclosed, by that shell. So much like the eggs I would smash open. Full of light confetti. That is me. I am just full of meaningless memories. Tear stained paper confetti. Smash my shell, mother. Please do.

posted by The Devil @ 2:33 PM

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