Dear Mom,
This is really hard for me to write. Before you go any further, I need you to know I love you.
I need a break from you. I realized as I was leaving for Ira’s house and you asked me to buy a bag of pot for you that you came here because you needed to – not because you thought I needed you. That made me realize that my entire life has been about you. There are a lot of things that I’m angry with you for right now. Mostly, I’m angry because you are always more concerned with yourself than with anyone else. I know this sounds selfish of me, but I need some space from you in order to reclaim my life for myself. Every time I talk to you, I’m reminded that you’re still friends with the one person who hurt me most in this world. When someone molests your daughter, they can’t be your best friend anymore. I know you’ve been obsessed with him since you were young, but at some point, you have to look past that obsession and see him for who he really is. He’s not a nice person. He doesn’t even mean well. I hate him. I’m angry with you for still loving him.
I need you to respect that I have to have boundaries in my life. I can’t come running every time you have a fight with Cliff. It’s always the same fight. You have to be strong enough to work on things for yourself. A circle doesn’t have an end, Mom, and you keep going around in the same direction. Every time I drop things and run to you, I’m giving up a piece of myself to enable you to remain in the same situation. Perhaps if I stop dropping my life to work on yours, we can both get somewhere.
I know that you need love in your life. I also know that in order to find it, you need to love yourself first. I know you don’t right now. I can’t fix that for you. There’s work you have to do. And you have to do it on your own. I can’t keep making it easy for you to not do that work.
I’m not saying I’ll never speak to you again. I’m also not saying that I don’t love you. I’m saying that because I love you, I need a break. I sincerely hope that you find love in your life. I hope that you learn to love yourself. When that happens, I’ll still be here. But, without this break, neither of us will make any changes in our lives. And we both need them.
Love,
Porscha
There’s a lot of shit in my head right now. That’s not even doing justice to what’s going on. But I’m learning a lot this week:
1. Some people still call it an “urn” when they want something to put coffee in. This is confusing when the person on the other end of the phone is the mother of your newly cremated friend.
2. Falling backwards out of my chair really did hurt, Ira. Thanks for the push. And the laugh.There are gnarly bruises on my spine and the back of my arm. Plus, a concussion and whiplash. You were right, okay? (more…)
I really wish I could forgive you. But there are things for which forgiveness just won’t form inside my chest. You had no business having a child. But I’m here. I have a brain and a heart and a soul that crave a mother’s love and generosity. I’ll never forgive you for never giving me those. I’ll never forgive you for lying to me about just about everything from the moment I was born. I’ll never forgive you for being the most selfish person I’ve ever met. Even when you try to make something about me, it’s always actually about you. Not just that, it’s dramatized for television. I hate the way you always want to be so close to me that I can feel your self-loathing radiating off of your skin. I hate the way I hate myself for hating you. I hate that I can’t love you. I’m supposed to. I know that. But I can’t. Somehow, we never bonded. That’s supposed to happen when a child is young – too young to walk, even – but back then you were too interested in parties and men and drugs and booze and things that weren’t going to improve your life. You’re still focused on those things. Now you’re suicidal every other day and I know you just do it for attention. (more…)
Reconnecting with my godmother has given me a lot to think about in the past few weeks. The information she has about my early childhood explains a lot. We spent time drinking beer around a bonfire last night with some really cool folks and those snippets of information that leaked out were incredibly revealing. (more…)
…that you have spinach in your teeth and everyone knows it but no one’s telling you? I’ve been getting that feeling all my life, but the spinach is just a metaphor. I often get the feeling that people know something about me I don’t know about myself. It’s in the way they smile when I say something like “I don’t think I’m smart enough for that” or “I don’t think I’m qualified for that.” It’s in the way I make them laugh without knowing I said something funny. (more…)
