There were moments I was acutely aware of irony as well as my lack of empathy and compassion. But I just did not give a fuck.
I allowed whatever came out, and a lot of it really surprised, even shocked, me. I had no idea of the crap that was inside of me after all of the years trying to moderate and cope with the issues that have arisen in relation to my mother and my life.
Our relationship has never been an easy one. Even times things seemed better were only preludes to my feeling worse. I suppose it could have something to do with the fact that things were never fully healed, maybe only partially, or at times the numbing strength was stronger.
I don't really know. It just seems to be the largest onion ever.
I have wondered how much of this cancer dance has to do with my mother, and family. Much of my physical pain is near my belly button. Every time I consider her, the pain intensifies, and it is not limited to just her, either.
I am not sure about this cause and effect thing, but I am not sure I can discount it, either.
I am feeling emotional, angry...sad. Someone on Facebook spoke of an exercise in which they wrote a letter to someone, and then turned it around, writing their response.
I did not want to consider my mom's response. In my anger, she did not deserve a voice. She did not deserve compassion, understanding, empathy. She deserved nothing.
I also did not want to take away from what I was feeling by going to "her side." I have already done that too much, at the cost of not recognizing my own feelings.
I will not linger in this crap, and I will not re-bury it. It needs to be let go, and I will do just that, when the time is right.
A part of me wants to scream, "I fucking hate you..." and a lot more. I want to share it, but am acutely aware how public this post is. There is a reason I am not sending her that letter. I have felt a lot of ugly stuff. Heavy, dark stuff.
Stuff that is likely more about me than it is about her. She doesn't need to have written confirmation of how I feel.
I have often told people I know how they feel about me, and they don't need words to confirm. Even though I wasn't conscious of this stuff, I wonder if she could feel my anger and disdain. It is apparent to me now that I apparently do not think much of my mother - at least when coming from the place the letter was written.
I am grateful that this stuff has come forward. I just wish it hadn't taken so long to get here. I wish I had a punching bag to beat the crap out of right now.
I share this to share my process, and what is going on with me. I am in awe of the flood of emotion that came pouring forth. I do not share this to have anyone give me her side, or have anyone try to fix me/things. If you are inclined that way, thank you, but please don't. I will get there when I get there.
I hate even saying this stuff, but if I don't, I think there is a good chance unsolicited, unwanted comments will show up, and I am just not "there" at the moment.
People often think public sharing is an invitation for their opinion/input. Probably it's at least in part because we have people looking to "engage the readers." Articles and blogs often end with, "What do you think? Let us know."
Then there are those who see problems as things to fix. Why else would someone share their problem? And those who see fixing a problem as loving another.
It can be good stuff, but most likely it will do its best work when it is welcome. In this world, it often seems that the default is perceived to be "welcome." Maybe for some that works.
As for me, most of the time unsolicited help is not wanted, and often anything less than helpful.
Harsh words, perhaps. No one is supposed to say these things, even if they are "true." It just comes off bitchy and ungrateful and other delightful things.
Well. I am not meaning to be harsh. Just wanting to be clear that I am only sharing, and not looking for help. There is a big difference, and it would be great if we could be clear with each other, honest with each other, and not have it be looked at in a negative way.
Am I being defensive? Perhaps. But I also feel like I need to be right now. But I also think this is a conversation that is often so much easier to avoid.
My guess is, though, that many more people would speak up and out if they felt it safe to do so. Unsolicited stuff often makes the idea feel most unsafe.