For the past few days I’ve been in a funk. The foulest of moods. It took me awhile to put my finger on the origin of said “funkness” but I think I’ve since figured it out.
When I was 19, I got pregnant and marriage followed. Yes, basakwards and for those of you who follow my ramblings, you know that it wasn’t an easy row to hoe. Sprinkle in seeds of mental illness, and friends, the crop is sure to fail.
I’ve mentioned my mother’s suicide attempts in previous posts. The various stays at mental institutions. The blame placed directly on me for leaving.
You have heard me tout the fact that I have let go and washed my hands of the situation. I have said time and time again that I have forgiven her. I think I am fooling myself with these notions. Several of you have shared your stories regarding relationships involving your own mothers. You went on to say in your messages that you appreciated me being so open and that when reading my story, you felt someone understood and that you weren’t alone. Truth be told when I read your stories, I felt that I wasn’t alone and that someone understood. I was on the flip side and it felt amazing.
As of late, I have received news that my mother is not doing well, yet again. I can only speculate as to why. At times I find myself wondering if she isn’t aware of what she is doing, only to manipulate those around her. A habit that she witnessed her own mother practice. I recognize that manipulation of that sort would qualify as a form of mental illness, albeit a cognizant one, in my opinion.
I will admit that the burden of “dealing” with my mother has rested solely on my sisters shoulders. Wrong or right, I physically separated myself long ago. My sanity and marriage could not handle the nightmare. I think my sister has had her fill as well.
Lately, I have really wanted, no needed a mother to talk to. No reason in particular, I am just yearning to fill a void that lies deep in my heart. I can’t for the life of me figure out why now, at this stage of the game. I’ve made it through two pregnancies, an almost divorce, the rearing of my children, three brain surgeries and so much more, why now?
I guess as daughters and daughters in law, we crave validation. Why is that validation so important? Why am I letting the lack of it get me down? I’m truly at a loss.
I have resolved myself to that fact that I will forever have a deep fracture in my heart. I will probably forever harbor resentment and anger only to rear their ugly heads in the form of my current mood and state of mind. I have to break free from the cycle of craziness.
I have been no good to anyone for two days. I have proclaimed my foulness, all the while shrugging my shoulders when asked why. It’s time to face the anger and resentment head on. I have no one to blame but myself. I have the ultimate control. I can either continue down this path of bitterness and indignation or I can let go once and for all.
I have prayed. I’ve prayed specifically. I have waited for the Holy Spirit to intervene on my behalf. I’ve waited for the pain to dissipate, only to arrive here yet again. Maybe, just maybe, God wants me to do it on my own. I would much rather He just blot my heart clean but where is the lesson in that for me?
I do acknowledge that she and I are no different in the eyes of our Savior. He died for her sins just as He did for me. If He can forgive her then who am I not to forgive her? I get all of that. Now, bringing the forgiveness to to fruition once and for all will be the challenge. I start feeling guilty when I get angry or let my resentment toward her get the best of me. Guilt because neither one of us are worthy of His forgiveness yet He freely gives it and I can’t. Why is it is do hard to forgive?
I do love to tell the stories but today, I am all ears.