….the melancholy increases. Watching the end of La La Land for the first time makes me teary. It’s going to be another one of those nights apparently. A therapy appointment today didn’t leave me as wrecked as my husband and I expected. The texts from my mother afterwards, however, did. This is a new sensation, being angry at my mother. It’s an intense anger. It’s almost safe to say that this feeling is on a different level than all the years I spent loathing my father. But as my therapist pointed out today, I eventually forgave my father and was able to find a peace in knowing that he was never going to be a part of my life again. I am capable of doing that again where my mother is concerned.
My mother asked in a text if this was about the past or the present. How do I answer that? It’s everything! I simply told her that it’s complicated and it’s both. I declined her offer to talk about it later. I want to rage at her and scream and cry and fight, and she insists that they can handle it and it’s better out than in, but what happens when I’m done? Nothing will change. She’ll think I got it out of my system and we can all move on now.
It took many years to recover from my father’s betrayal. I hope it doesn’t take as long with my mother. Tender-hearted people need their mothers. All people need their mothers. A young girl injured in Las Vegas last week said all she wanted was her mother when she woke up at the hospital. My sister is right, home isn’t a place, home is hearing your mother’s voice. And yet, I’m ignoring her phone calls and deleting her voice mails before listening to them. I’m only capable of handling texts at the moment. That’s after a week of having both parents blocked on my phone. My father is still blocked. I don’t need him interfering and trying to convince me to talk to my mother. I haven’t reached my terms yet. I don’t know what those terms are. I want peace…both in my mind and heart. They’re not in agreement right now. And when they do agree, I’ll know the time is right. Advice that came from my mother when I was an angst-ridden teenager.