Mixed bag

Every time I think I am getting comfortable with how my world is I come across something that shows me I’m not. This time it was a very small feather in a card from my Mom that I had tucked away. She does love me to the extent that she is capable of. I adore feathers, I have been know as the feather slut to my friends. My only tattoo is feathers. They have been a consent love throughout my life. That she took the time to save this small feather and send it to me meant a lot. It gets me thinking about writing to her at least. But then, do I really want to. I can’t tell. I can tell I no longer want contact with my step father. I really just don’t and I don’t think that is out of line. Not to me or the others around me.

My therapist brought up the fact that possibly my mother suffers from her own mental illness. I was amazed to say the least. Not sure why, but I had never even considered that. Was it my own blindness that kept me from that realization? Possibly, my mate looked and me and said “Ya, you didn’t know?” Really so one of those things I was the only one who didn’t know. I guess it has to do with the whole looking at my mother as a person not just my mother. I know if friends treated me the way she has I won’t stick around for more. In fact I have cut a friend loose and that hurts almost as much.

Narcissists love to point out your flaws. I have been doing a fair amount of research on Narcissist parents, what an eye opener. I have sat on this post for almost 2 months as I try to digest all the information and the possibility that is what is wrong with my mother. This is still such a new concept to me that it is very hard to get mind wrapped around it. I m sure once I come to a better understanding I’ll have more to post.

This post was written a year ago. It still holds truth.

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May 18, 2015

We just made it through Mothers’ Day and now it will be my mother’s birthday in 2 days. Seems like this time of year is just hard. It was always my favorite time of year. I love spring and the flowers blooming, sunshine and warmer weather. This time of year is the best. Maybe it helps to deal because I have sunshine to balance out the gloomy feelings? Do I send a card or not? I haven’t for almost two years. Do I even want to open that door a crack? What is the worst thing that could happen? She might take it as a sign I want to talk? Do I, no it is too raw to think about talking.

Indecision

Indecision it plagues the best of us from time to time. I think it is even worse for those of us who are estranged from all or part of our families. I know it plagues me to no end. You can see it throughout my writing. As I look back through my life it has always been a sticking point for me. First while trying to break the cycle of abuse, to later trying to figure out “Is this normal?”  I used to tell a friend of mine she was my normal stick, because mine was broken. Turns out many people’s are and I think that leads us to being indecisive. What if I’m wrong? What if the way I’m looking at things is warped? So many what ifs, but you know what? Everyone has them. It is important to look at things from all sides when you are able to; but, it is also important to not allow it to disable you. I feel I’m starting to wander off point a bit, but so many well meaning people add to our indecision with comments like “But she’s your ____.” or “Its family you have to forgive them.” “They are the only _____ you will ever get.”

Those comments not only hurt us they heap on the indecision if you aren’t careful. This is a very hard journey at times, don’t let other people; no matter how well intentioned they may be add to your struggles. It is ok to be unsure, or to stand fast as your journey takes you. Be kind to yourself and take care.