probably hormonal right now, too, so perhaps it's amplifying things.
All I know is that Gracie isn't around any more, and I miss her, and
every time I start feeling bad I think of something my mom said and I
get angry. Then every little thing that's even remotely annoying
becomes something to get angry over, too.
The day after I sent a poem/email to her about Gracie, Mom, knowing
how close Gracie and I were, and that I wrote the poem the same day
she'd died, had the /audacity/ to tell me I sounded depressed and
wondered if I were still seeing a therapist. People say we easily
misunderstand intent in email, but my mother is not a typical
emailing idiot. She's sharp as a whip and very well-versed in proper
written English. If there were any pleasant meaning behind her
words, I fail to see it. Then she confused the issue by offering a
"pooh" hug - her way of making me laugh when I feel down. The
problem I have with those is that they were never designed to comfort
me; they were designed to ease her discomfort over my mood by turning
it into another version of my emotion - laughter, thus smiles. I
always hated her for that and for a long time I turned this onto
myself because on the surface it seemed she was only "trying to
help." Perhaps to her, she /was/ trying to help. But any careful
analysis would probably point to an underlying reason.
And she always told me /I/ was manipulative. Wonder where I learned
THAT from?
You have _no_ idea how badly I wanted to throttle her at that moment
in time. Being an animal lover herself, she knows full well how
devastating it is to lose a pet. To play her old games - which I'd
thought she'd begun growing out of - at a time like this? That was
one of the lowest blows she has ever dealt me. If she were any other
person, I'd never speak to her again. How on earth a mother can talk
to her own daughter that way time and time again is beyond me. I
know she's screwed up but she's known that for a long time. She's
been shoving it down my throat ever since I was old enough to
understand what being screwed up meant. So if she knows this, why
not just grow up and keep her negativity to herself rather than
exacerbating an already difficult moment in my life? I know she has
trouble being happy for people, but please... I'm her /daughter/. If
she can't be happy for me when I'm happy, she could at least refrain
from pushing me towards an insane asylum when I'm not.
She'd probably like it if I were nuts. Then she could control me in
whatever way she desired. Sorry, Mom, but I won't give you that
satisfaction. You go control yourself and leave me out of it. I
know why you want me to move to Maine. I wanted to move to Maine to
get away from you. This is why when you went, I didn't. Hello?
It's not rocket science. And THANK GOD I didn't go. If I had, I'd
never have met Dale. Who, by the way, is also uncomfortable with
negative emotions. Yet he doesn't disparage me by making cruel
remarks. He acts as a normal, loving person would - he holds me and
gives me tissues until I stop crying on my own. Yeah, Mom, we do
pick people that remind us of our parents. He reminds me of what you
would be like if you grew up and loved me rather than judged me all
the time.
I will grieve over Gracie's passing in whatever way I naturally
grieve. Mom and anyone else who dares to oppose me on this can eat
the crappy hard drive that bit the dust last weekend.
And you know something else? I'm glad I gave up my business. It
dawned on me that I spent 14 hours last weekend on my neighbours'
computer, and cannot recall spending any time with Gracie
whatsoever. I didn't know she was so close to death, but if I hadn't
been so preoccupied, I would have at least brought breakfast upstairs
and shared with her as was our routine. It's not that I feel she
died alone or that I cheated her. In fact, she held one of the most
special places in my hearts as far as critters go. I spoiled her
rotten because I knew she'd never actually get spoiled. She was one
of those rare creatures who loved life itself. And I can honestly
say that I cannot imagine any reason why she might have been remotely
distraught over my inattention her last few days. I do not grieve
over what happened. I grieve over the moments I missed out on. I
missed out on sharing two of the last breakfasts I could ever share
with her. It wasn't just for her that I did that. I loved to see
her happy.
Life is too damned short to spend one's free time with their nose in
other people's business.
Anywho, I'm irritable and angry again this morning, although writing
all this seems to have plunged me into a hopeful despair again.
Things weren't too bad yesterday other than a long bout of crying
last night and some overzealous aggravation toward a coworker's
email, but Friday, omg, thank God for two of my talkative, fun-loving
coworkers. I walked into work ready for a battle and was irritated
when they dragged me upstairs to help them with something. But as I
was begrudgingly helping them, the anger slowly melted away.
Mom used to tell me that I was nice to everyone but her. Perhaps
there was a reason for that? Now I strive to be nice to everyone I
can, including her. I believe in Mom as a human being and I want the
best for her. She does have a lot of strong points. So despite my
initial reaction to her email, I was able to write a somewhat cooler
response. It hasn't full released my initial reaction, however. I'm
still very angry over her timing of negative words toward me. And I
have every right to feel whatever I feel. If I don't, it'll just
build up like it always did.
I'm living my life now, not ignoring it. Life's also too short to
spend ignoring it only to have it catch up with you just in time to
kill you.
~nv
No comments:
Post a Comment