being strong is surely something i’ve written on before. most days it’s just who i am but on others self-pity creeps in and there’s need to find ways that dissipate.
history beckons and mom sticks her woes in me to withdraw from the bank of daughter whilst leaving her card behind in hopes something within me will keep spitting out currency that to her has no value other than its attachment to my contract to be a ‘good’ daughter.
i don’t count and never have but lately something tells me it’s been a lot and the realization makes me nauseous. it makes me sick too that one kid resents me for it, for not struggling as much as dad. too young to understand life’s ebbs and flows or how it’s a sure thing a struggling period is just that – a period, a stage, a place that requires an audience only until the actor finds the courage to memorize a different script. he still blames me nonetheless. but the spiritual and emotional cost – no one sees that nor do they care to. it’s not like i can walk to the bank of motherly compassion, put my card in and hope to withdraw something that looks like care.
by all accounts i seem to be doing just grand. when you got so many accounts looking a certain kind of way folks don’t check in on you. least that’s what i told the other gal. she didn’t believe me. she said my reason was bullshit, that people that care will check on you whether you appear weak or strong. i don’t know. i haven’t experienced life in that way. no one really checks on me unless i scream fire and that’s only happened twice, and one of those times there was actually a fire.
writing does help the self-pity go away cause i judge myself at the same time and don’t wanna go back and reread the words. feeling them is enough to make it go away for another long while. and i’ll say no to mom and the others next time cause i usually need to get here to get there. can’t be all negative. think all banks go offline for maintenance at some point.