2015’s ridiculousness spilled right over into 2016, unfortunately. It’s been a crazy few weeks, but the worst seems to be over…for now. Of course, life happens in threes.
I was avoiding therapy at the end of last year because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my relationship with my mother. Should I bring her in to therapy, be vulnerable in a big way, and try yet again? Turns out, the answer is no. I can’t do it. I’m not ready and I may never be. I’m back at a point where I have given up on my relationship with my mom. I mean, we still speak occasionally. I can still be around her. So, I suppose a more accurate statement is that I have made the decision to give up on the idealized version of the relationship I have been hoping I might have with my mother someday. I have to let go of it, once and for all. We will never have a normal relationship and clinging to the (very false) notion that we might is only hurting me.
Letting go meant sending her an email telling her why and what it meant for us in the future. It was really hard for a few days; it still is. But I’m beginning to feel a sense of relief about the decision. Letting go is freeing up my heart and mind for other things. I have amazing people in my life that I CAN and DO have normal relationships with that are indescribably wonderful. I have a business that is slowly building up steam. I am on a long-haul journey of physical and mental health. It’s nice to have the ability to turn my energy toward the people and things that actually matter in my corner of the universe, including myself.
Well, as I’m still somewhat reeling from the finality of sending my mom the email I did, my troubled nephew’s problems showed up on my front porch. Whatever happened, or didn’t, the wrong person got very angry with him. Thankfully my brother handled it, but scary people now know where my family lives and, if my nephew makes a dumb mistake again, who knows what could happen to any of us. Hello, anxiety for days. It really makes me sad too, because I wish there were something more we could do for him. Unfortunately, though, addiction is a cycle only he can break.
Then, just as we’re getting our feet under us financially, my sister in law loses her job this last week. Woosah. Goosfraba. There really are those days that I’m not sure how much more I can take. There are days I can not get out of bed because it’s too difficult to deal with everything that happens.
Then I write. I started walking more often (it’s kinda shameful how far I can’t go, but I gotta start somewhere). I went back to therapy. I keep working. I move what I need to move around. I’m honest with people that I “don’t feel well.” I beat myself up in my head (man I am m a super bitch). I cry. I laugh. I’m sad. I’m scared. I freak out. I try to remember the good things. I reach out. I isolate. I just keep living life. Somehow, I keep living life. Thank God.
Keep living life, friends. It keeps going, so we might as well enjoy the ride. Or at least try to. Something like that. :)