back in the day mom said she should get recognized for mother’s and father’s day. the kids aren’t here so she decided to come instead, wanting me to celebrate her, or at minimum cater to her. you either do or don’t accept your parents for who they are.
i’m in a dark place (again). feeding and exchanging energy from across miles is taking its toll, if it hasn’t already. there are so many ups and downs, so many things gained and loss, so much never understood and relinquished to the ether.
imagine that my father is being celebrated by his wife, son, other daughter, step-daughter, and grandchildren. my imaginings could be wrong but i know they’re not. for all of the toughness displayed, i’m just a crybaby behind closed doors and most times feel shameful for my sensitivity; something about it seems in contradiction to the blessings of life…
when we were married i celebrated him. i went all out and made sure that not only that day but every day he felt special. i tried never to see the fact that he never did anything for me, or that i never felt special to him. i tried never to admit i was doing what i was doing to feel loved in return, and i did good. some part of me acknowledges what feels to be unfairness for him being celebrated, and some part of me acknowledges i am not his child, and that what i feel doesn’t matter.
what i feel doesn’t matter. who i love doesn’t matter. what i do doesn’t matter. wishes don’t matter. dreams don’t matter. efforts and passions, they don’t matter either. what the mind creates and shares with the world, it doesn’t matter. someone will find a way to celebrate it anyway – to offer alms, days off, and whatever else to give it meaning.
that nauseous feeling is returning. it’s that feeling when you’re staring at everyone from behind the darkened glass, when they can’t see you and you’re watching them laugh, play, cuddle, hug, and make love. it’s nauseousness because you know that to them in those moments and all, you are nothing to them, non-existent, or simply once a means to an end. i want to throw up for standing there and staring, for thinking that there is enough love within me to make them turn around and offer me into their worlds. i feel yet more shame, for not being a hundred percent happy for them, for wondering what it feels like to be welcomed in, for not being completely at peace for having the sight to see it and know it exists.
I hate writing this way because it’s so fucking dark and negative but there’s no other way i can come up with to release it, at least until it returns, and it always does.