In dreams (Part 1-The pain of it)

I haven’t written about Mom in a while. I was going to give myself a break, as well as you by trying to get back to the subjects I usually write about. Fact is, that life really doesn’t work that way, nothing can be forced, or covered up as if it doesn’t exist. For a short while, we may manage to banish it from our memory, but in reality it is always there with varying levels of hold. I still believe that we can control the degree through “The power of now”, but soon or later the strongest warrior will have to say “What the heck am I trying to accomplish here” and kneel. Well maybe not in those exact words and terms, but for me it comes from a vision of my dreams. I don’t remember dreams often, so when I do it is important to recognize the message that comes along with it.

It’s been another week of compliments and setbacks. A few special moments came through with Mom either complimenting something I wore, a hair accessory, or…well, I think that was it already. And then, there are other times that sadly dominate everything, the moments when she attack’s my character. She can’t see the sacrifices that I have brought to the table for her. That my life is at a halt, that I’m removed from everything that usually makes my life. That my expenses continue while I’m away, and that I am not earning an income. She has no clue, but did I come here for her to understand such? Was I looking for gratefulness? Damn right to some extend, and a little appreciation couldn’t hurt. Not everything is a given in life, has she not learned this lesson at nearly eighty years of age? I could go on, but it’s starting to sound like a pity fest and I knew that this would happen way before I came. I knew my life would change drastically and this is not about me. So what is gong on?

I analyzed it yesterday and came to the following conclusion. Mom spoiled me with the occasional compliment. It was something she has done only once before as I knitted the first pair of socks. All of a sudden she likes something I had bought, something I wore, and didn’t degraded it in some way. It was progress in our relationship I thought, not that it’s existence would be based on having to be showered with compliments. But the human side, a cordial way was shining through, and I began to relate more to Mom. Perhaps it was the joy in finding similar traits, shared perceptions and common opinions. My downfall was that I wanted more. I wanted more of such interaction, a relationship between mother and daughter, about casual talks, opinions shared, loving advice here to be given, etc. I just wanted more and expectations came into play. I said it long before, that we are bound for disappointment if we bring expectations into the game, and don’t take those special occasions as what they are meant to be…precious gifts. Such point was proven again, and I got hungry, greedy for more. I’ve set myself up by asking a question of which the desired answer never came. Yet I hoped it would. “But Mom, I’m here, and I have been for the past eight weeks, doing everything I can for you, without much regard for my own life.” Her response: “What is it that you are doing all that much?” My response: A broken heart observed in silence.

Happy Mom wearing my hair accessory.