I want to light myself on fire so my pain can be dissolved into pain I might be able to survive. I’m spiraling back into depression and it’s because the truth hurts. My mother, who is terminally ill, has made it clear she’s pleased as punch that I have come to visit with her grandson but that she hopes that I don’t return as she gets more ill. Her wishes include that her family not be part of her care team because “we’re not good at it.” That and during a painfully honest conversation where we got no where she told me she doesn’t understand why I am such an angry person.
Really?! Because, my mother, you have always pushed me away. Told me what I thought was irrelevant and how I felt was of no consequence. Yes, you worked two jobs and have always been generous. You who taught me Christian values and moral fortitude but could not deal with my curiosity. You who I only wanted to spend time with and to tell you stories and listen to your stories. To learn from you how to operate in this fucked up world and to share with you my little slice of it. But you were too busy, too tired, fighting illness and raising 3 children. Of which, I was decidedly the problem child. Of which, I was the stubborn one, the willful one, the defiant one that you couldn’t spend much time around.

She then asked me what I possibly thought I could do for her, as she gets sicker. I replied that I thought I could nurture her and take care of her household. Help her stay as strong and independent as she can be for as long as possible. Of which she replied that she has plenty of friends who would be happy to perform that function. Which is absolutely true. She is a wonderfully community-active and well loved woman, but it makes it no less crushing to hear that she would prefer the company and care of strangers.

Did I verbalize these things? Yes. Should I have? Well, I did. And now I can’t look her in the eye because I can’t stand that life is so callously disappointing in one more respect. She didn’t accept who I was as a girl, she didn’t talk to me about being a woman, or a mother and now she’s cutting me out of the last stage of her life. And, stupidly, I just want to know what is so wrong with me. She says she’s proud of who I am and the choices I make but I just rub her the wrong way.

Following in a similar vein, I fell in love with someone who doesn’t return the feelings. This is not the first time. In a moment of honesty I shared my feelings with her and it was apparently a shock.(I apparently always think I’m being blatant when I flirt with people.)
In a twisted mish-mash of I waited too long, perhaps, to say something and she doesn’t see me in a sexual light….It was no less than I expected, I’m just tired of feeling so fucking ugly and/or undesirable. Plus, I’m pretty sure it makes me a horrible person to fall in love with more than one person at a time, since I am still madly in love with my husband. He is my best friend . This emotion business is sticky, what can I say?

Did her being truthful ruin our relationship? Nope. Like I said, I’m used to falling for the wrong people and I’m never sorry for owning my truth, even when it leads to pain. but there is still pain. I am no longer looking forward to dancing the Beltane fires. I have never danced with a lover and it makes me ache.  Perhaps because I thought I might get the chance this year? …shame on me.

I’m heading back into cybernation for a bit. My soul is feeling a little battered. I’ll be back when that asshole, optimism, captures me and tempts me back out of hiding.


2 thoughts on “Enflamed

  1. As unique as you may believe that your story is, it isn’t. I have spoken with many others who have gone through similar or worse and there is an answer to your questions, an end to your pain, though not one that you would imagine. 🙂

    If the topic is still open, I would love to help you get through it and listen to your concerns.

    1. To which piece of my story are you referring? I’m open to discussion, though I’ve moved through the drama of it and have gained some emotional distance from it.

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