On Being (a mom)

hands

I picked the wrong man to make the prefect baby with. The taste of marriage, tainted many things in my life.

Relationships have been tricky. For many years, I made other men pay for one man’s sins. When I met the one, fear ran so rampant in my body, that I soon followed. I never meant to lose him, and I have never been able to replace him.

When leaving the wrong man, I was at my most broken point in my life, to that point. To top it off, I was medicated. First Nortryptaline, Ambien, then onto Prozac, a relationship with a woman, an overdose: me, using her Halcyon, my drugs, and many, many Electric Watermellons. An Inpatient stay for me, followed by a no ween, instant medication switch from Prozac to Paxil.Some little blue pills called Restorill for the first sleep I had in a few decades.

It wasn’t until after the divorce, the loss of my child; to her father, a couple of year stretch of serial monogamy, a switch to Serzone, finding the one, and losing him, that I stopped the drugs. It took a few years to clear all of that shit out of my system, but I did it.

I had a ten-year run of isolation. It was pretty self-imposed. There was one attempt at a relationship and an internet fling with this amazing younger guy on the other side of the country. We met in Vegas eventually, and clicked in person. We had plans for me to fly to his city, but I suddenly got very afraid of the fact I genuinely liked him and he was 29 to my 40. I pushed the blow up of that friendship; because I had sincere warm feelings for an incredibly smart person. Then there was the mess with the one, but in that decade, I wasn’t with anyone longer than six months. I was mostly alone, afraid, and celibate.

My chance with my daughter happened in 2009.

She was amazing to start to get to know, but I did too many things wrong. I did not know how to make a jump from 8 years old… to 17 and angry. I allowed things to happen that left me out of control and feeling isolated in my own house. When she wound up being there, but not there I did the wrong thing and got involved with someone I shouldn’t have because I needed to feel wanted and loved. It worked for a while. A plastic surgery, the loss of my daughter and her child, my job, another assault and a bankruptcy later, with nowhere to go but a slab or up, I went crazy and in that insanity, found sanity and peace.

I do not have a relationship with my daughter. She will not have me and sometimes…I can’t say that I blame her, but there is much she doesn’t know  and plenty I would NEVER tell her about my relationship with her father. There is much we should have discussed when she was “around”, but I didn’t want to push and there were too many other people involved in our initial attempt to physically be around one another and be mother and daughter.

I have made plenty of mistakes in my life. I regret some of the choices I have made in my life. I regret that I was not strong enough and spent YEARS breaking; and breaking others before the final crash. But the one thing I don’t regret, is the birth of my daughter. I loved being pregnant with her and I loved the first seven years I was honored to be her mom. She was my life, and losing custody of her, then being blocked by her father for so long destroyed what she and I had.  I wonder if she even remembers how much I loved her, or if she can imagine the cracking sound the world made in my head on that day she went to live with her father? I can still hear it when I think back, and suddenly I need a tear and smoke break.

My daughter taught me what it is like to be a mom. I learned how my own mother loved my sisters and myself, by feeling my own motherly love for my daughter. What my daughter doesn’t know is that when she came back into my life again at 17, almost 18…I was still protecting her. I felt so trapped in what I could say and not say.  I can not elaborate to anyone reading.

Though my daughter will not have me. (The whole time we were trying, she was calling another woman, “mom”. Owch.) It does not change the fact that tomorrow is Mother’s Day. It is a terribly bittersweet day for me. I still have a mother to celebrate, and a huge longing to be acknowledged. As much as I tell Universe I want to be there for her, she will not have me.

None of this stops my love for her and if she showed up in my life today, I would wrap my arms around her and tell her how much I love her and ask her to forgive me for not being there. I should have fought her father.

There is SO much more to say, and yet none of it is for a blog post. I’m sad that being a mother hurts me sometimes, but I have the comfort of knowing my child wakes up everyday and fills her lungs with air. Probably THC infused, but she is alive. I just hope she is living.

Happy Mother’s Day Sweet-Pea.

Olive Juice.

Always.

 

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About iwentcrazy

I am very, very, very average. And very, very, very lucky.

Posted on May 10, 2014, in Me and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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