"Life gives us no such handy markers
-- a storm comes, and far from this being
a harbinger of death and collapse,
during its course a person discovers
love and truth, beauty and happiness,
the rain lashing at the windows all the while."
-Alain de Botton
i redecorated my bedroom last night. i came home from work, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and headed up the stairs. i haven't a clue where the inspiration or the energy came from as i was exhausted, but it seemed i had a need within me that only the pulling and tugging of heavy furniture could satisfy. And i am indeed very pleased with the results. i had gone through the various rooms of the house and selected a few items that i wished to be surrounded by in my sleep, and placed them in spots that would be pleasing to me. Perhaps it was a need to do a bit of nesting, or a need to place my mark upon the one room in the house that is just mine.
Like the protectiveness of a cocoon, a safe zone where i don’t allow the nastiness of the world to creep in.
i have spent time with my mother this week, and i am finding it increasing difficult to maintain any sense of normalcy with her now. She is declining at a much faster rate, and it pains me to watch her trying to grapple with the reality that she probably wont see the year 2000. She looks at me through the haze of morphine and i see the puzzled fear in her eyes. When we speak on the phone she continuously repeats how restless she is, questioning the quality of her drug-induced life. She tries to put on a brave front, but her eyes tell me what she is really thinking. And gone is the head-strong, impulsive, manipulative and dominating woman i used to know. The woman who is a bit wacky and had a huge appetite for life.
i said to Sir, that i feel in a sense that i am waiting as well. Not that i wish her to be gone, but i am realizing that when she is, somewhere in my mind i will be able to shut a door. i think she knows this too. And now i am crying as i allow my thoughts to drift back to all the things i need to close the door on. All the baggage i need to pack up and label "finished with". Maybe once i have done this, i will have more faith in myself, and allow myself the freedom of hugging without holding back. Maybe hug my own children a lot more; not hugging them enough is one of the regrets i have in life. But how can i do something i never learned how to do, and didn’t realize until recently that i was supposed to?
Having controlling parents is a confusing thing i think. Having emotionally unstable parents adds to the mix and makes being an adult free from the influences of them very difficult. At least for me. And i know there are unresolved issues i need to deal with. One of major issues with my mother was her taking of my control, and my allowing her to keep it too long. i didn't leave the nest and become independent and free-thinking as in the "normal" course of growing up and away. i was in my second marriage, bringing along with me two children, and my father had passed away before i realized something had to change or i would drown. My mother clung and depended and used my guilt even more after he died, until she met a "friend", and i was no longer of use. i was left to the side as she rushed out again, chasing her life. And i have a huge resentment towards all of that, towards her, as the pattern of 35 years was repeated.
And yet ... she’s my mom. The woman who never hugged very much ... but who told someone one time (when i was very young and she didn't know i was listening) ... "...that’s my daughter, isn't she beautiful ..."
Life gets so confusing sometimes.