September 5th, 2004


ask me why and I'll spit in your eye

Remember when the worst of our problems could be unraveled driving over the speedbumps behind the bookstore at 15 miles an hour with our soundtrack playing? Cool, 'cause I'm not sure I do anymore.

Time goes by and I watch my friend being crushed, I read these entries and I cry because she's falling apart, but I try to apply the same possibilities to my own family and I have no idea, nothing fits no matter which ways I turn the pieces around. I assume I only get upset because I understand that other people do have close families. (Meaning, I'm upset because she's upset, but it's the fact that I can accept this as reasonable pain that makes it come together as something upsetting. Essentially.) I've tried to imagine this happening to my own mom so many times. It never seems to matter, beyond the generalized concept that I wouldn't want her to be in pain. I can't fit us into the template where I'm the one miserable by her bedside, where I'm tearing my hair out trying to bring her back. I can't imagine missing my mom, as an entity. It's not that I dislike her. I wouldn't ever want anything bad to happen to her, and when it comes to her vs the world at large, fucking hell and damnation on anyone who fucks with her. But.... I don't care when she's gone. I feel free to be away from her and uncomfortable to be around her. Earlier this year she moved a tennant in, a 20something woman and her wee daughter. They get along well, and the last time I came over there to pick up some mail (something I'd put off doing for almost a month just because I didn't want the social hassle), this woman answered the door and called out, "Your other daughter is here!", then, looking semi-embarrassed, explained to me that my mom calls her her "other daughter". I have the conceptual notion that I'm supposed to be upset by that? But as I thought about it, realizing that my mom's aggravated "trying to get in touch with you" voicemails and "why don't you come by to hang?" requests had sharply declined (err, had stopped entirely), all I felt was freedom. Here I am, living my life, with a surrogate daughter shouldering one half of my family obligations. A joyous revelation, to be sure. Let her be the christian, so my mom will stop inviting me to church. Let her have the daughter, so my mom will stop reminding me she wants a grandchild. Let her provide everything I never will. Am I supposed to be unhappy that my mom is getting what she wants without trying to squeeze it out of me? Really?
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