No, not about Halloween or anything related. More wondering about my mom.
I think about my mother a lot. I loved her, I’m sure she loved me. I remember things she did sometimes and spend days trying to understand why.
She had unlimited energy. Multiple jobs and projects running at all times. Constant movement.
She was extremely outgoing. Involved in every club possible. Groups of friends and organizations everywhere. I try to imagine how others saw her, it’s a little beyond my grasp though.
I don’t know if she wanted to keep me close or control me. I don’t know if her reasons for her actions towards me were done knowingly or if she didn’t realize?
I know it pained her that I was never as outgoing as her. She tried to get me to do things the way she would. She took it personally when I didn’t or couldn’t.
I’m sure she saw me as a faulty extension of her. So many diets. Every day overviews of my physical flaws with the ever looming ‘thing’ that I just need to try harder to camouflage. An unnamed deformity that caused me so much anxiety through decades of my life.
Every move, every word, even my breathing could be evaluated or mocked at any and all times.
She was my everyday for most of my life until she died. I wasn’t able to connect with people outside of that relationship. I had friends I hung out with as a kid, but I don’t think I added much input into the friendships. I was mostly a follower because I did not know what was ok for me to say or do. I remember so many times being invited to join family dinners only to wait for my friend in their rooms. I didn’t feel it was acceptable for me to bother others with my presence.
That’s what I was taught by my parents.
Most of my time was with mom. Especially after I had kids. She would have lists of chores for me to do for her projects. I didn’t always know what the projects were, but there was always stuff for me to do. Sometimes she’d have a list of chores and instead we’d end up going shopping, to movies, or to lunch. I rarely knew what we were going to be doing. Idk it kept her happy usually to just go with what worked for her at the time!
Disagreeing was risky. My mother would say something and if I tried to give a differing opinion, there were consequences. She would tell the next person we would see that I had said the thing she had said. She would tell a lengthy story about that being my opinion. I don’t understand why. Or she would take something that was different about me, different from her, and talk about how bad that thing was to people in my presence. Not telling them I liked or did that thing, just in general how awful.
One of the last conversations we had was about traveling. She asked if I ever wanted to start traveling. I said something about if it’s not meant to be, I’ll be ok. There’s plenty for me to be happy about at home.
She spent hours talking to her fiancé about how much smarter, more understanding, just overall better people who travel are. It was actually pretty harsh. I still don’t understand. It was a lifetime of this.
It was still a better outcome for me when I tried to open up to my mother. My dad and his wife are worse. Just plain mean. My dad would often tell me how everyone I see is smarter than, prettier, and better than me. Karen liked to mutter things at me when I was stuck at the house alone with her.
There have been very few people that I have felt safe enough around to open up. It’s rare. No one I am related to is safe.
My mom did change in her last few years. She began to be more open to hearing me. We had better conversations and I heard her opinions about things softening a little. It was nice. She was more relaxed, but still always doing stuff!
It was only a start. I wish she had lived longer so I could experience more of those moments. I think there was a possibility for better.
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