Oh, y’all. It has been a Week. And it’s only Tuesday. Let’s see, where do I start?
I’ve been wanting to write about my parents for a while – but they read this (my crazy father actually signed up for an rss feed! wha?) and I didn’t want to feed the lion. But, yesterday I got a crazy gram mailed from my mother (to my in-laws – no sir, no drama here). She wrote me something about how my perception of events is wrong and she couldn’t possibly have done one thing that make me want to keep my children from her.
Nope, not one thing. It was hundreds of things. Hundreds of little and medium-sized and big things that got under my skin and dissolved my being. Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember what it was like seven years ago – the fear and difficulty I faced each day with. I think now of how I bought a house (me: I bought a house), how I have two daughters, how I have a husband and a strong marriage… And there is very little drama in my life.
I also wish they could understand that sending emails to my fiance warning him that his wife-to-be is about to commit suicide is not okay. That calling campus police because I wouldn’t return a phone call over a weekend is not okay. That storming the door of a sick grandmother is not okay. And yes, those are oooold examples, but it’s what I’ve got to base my opinion on. I won’t let them near my daughters because I don’t want that brand of crazy in their lives. I get to protect them at this point – it’s my duty.
I wish my parents could understand that I carry so many good memories with me. I wish my dad could see how I sew my Halloween costumes. I wish my mom could hear me read October Had a Party to my daughter. I wish they could see the thousands of good memories that are living through me. We go to church; my husband sings with my daughter. My daughter helps me in the kitchen. We take nature walks and take pictures with our eyes. We play and run and sing – and so much of it is infused with the joy of my childhood.
I realize that a key ingredient of my life is missing. And y’all, there are times when it is really hard. I miss my mom and dad and brother something awful. But I miss the people I used to know. The people now, the ones who write mean letters to loved ones or can’t seem to understand that an alcoholic can survive their addiction — I don’t know them. I don’t want to know them. I have solid ground under my feet… and while I often wonder if I’m strong enough to withstand their assaults, I know I don’t want to try.
So even though I know it’s my mom’s birthday and that usually starts the season of crazy, even though it took me crying in a corner for a while, even though it made me question the decisions I’ve made – I know, at my core, that my decision is the right one for my family. I make the decision to avoid them in my life. So, even though I want to write about it here, because it makes me who I am, I know I don’t want or need a relationship with them.
Crap, I may have just fed the lion. Oh well, Pebbles is the cutest. (and oof, if my boobs get any bigger with this pregnancy I’m going to need a pulley system)