I took my broken heart and left Mom for the day. I realized just how wounded her words had left me, and how much I was yearning for her love and recognition. Still, to this day, no matter the mantra and how strong or how weak I’ve become, everything is still the same, including me. Coming back over and over, at times I felt like a glutton for punishment that just wouldn’t and couldn’t stay away. I’d probably tell you that you are insane if it was you telling me that story (not really though and I’m pretty understanding of the strangest things), but it isn’t you, is it now…it’s me. I’d still say the same and I guess it makes me a little crazy. I’ve always gladly owned it and who wants to be like everyone else haha. The extent of which obviously varies at times. Joking aside, nothing has changed, the wounds never closed and I continued to chase her love, wanting and hoping to be her daughter some day. A love that was unreachable, a love I once painted in an outcry of pain.
I know there have been times when I was so angry and hurt that I wished I could just walk away. This was one of those times and another desperate need remained unanswered. Another run against that thick wall that didn’t even shake the foundation. It remained as always, solid, without a crumble and reserved. I knew that no matter how many times I might run up against it, it might never be in my power to just walk away and quit trying. Did I really want to? The bond has always been very strong, but mostly one sided. As time passes it becomes clearer and clearer that Mom won’t change. She is set in her ways, but recently did change for a moment, being so sick and thinking that she was going to die. That seems long past now, and she has returned to her usual self. No lesson was learned on her part, no near death realization, no acknowledgement, no gratitude. “You wanted to be here, right, nobody forced you to come” she says and therefore washes her hands of any feelings.
I thought of the beautiful flower bouquet that my girlfriend brought Mom the other day. Beautiful, big yellow roses, a truly beautiful display of ten blooming heads. She was over the moon for her flowers and has talked about them each day since. Apparently everyone else was overly excited about the flowers as well, and many compliments have found their way to Mom. I should be happy that she found something to take joy in as it is rare these days and all should be well, right? But it isn’t. I’m competing with ten roses, as silly as it might sound. You see there is this little girl that had to grow up way too fast, me, who has lost her Dad and Mom at the same time, one physically and the other emotionally. One little girl who has been bringing Mommy flowers on numerous occasions and who makes sure that Mommy has something beautiful and pretty to look at. A genuine act on my part that has mostly gone unnoticed, although she wants to keep them around for another day when they begin to wilt. Compliment enough, right? Did I really do it because I wanted her thank you? All of a sudden I found myself feeling jealous and hurt about the beautiful yellow flowers. Absurd but true. Again, I felt as if I was running up against that wall, never being able to do anything right. Just like nobody had forced me to come to Germany, nobody had forced me to buy the flowers. I imagined how nice it would have been, had she liked my flowers as much as her beautiful yellow bouquet. While in thought I felt embarrassed to think such thoughts, but it also brought the realization that things can’t go in like this. That I need to watch after myself and protect my heart if Mom couldn’t do it herself. Crazy enough to think that a colorful array of tulips couldn’t compare with the beautiful roses, but it was how I felt. I knew that it wasn’t the flowers, but the recognition, the gratitude, her approval and the acknowledgement that I was seeking. Still now, in my fifties, I was hoping to do something right in her eyes, but the praise, the pride or whatever else it was that I was hoping for never came. Why….because I DID IT and in her mind I left her behind and I’m flawed. Aren’t we all? It’s not even the point poor Mom and sadly but true, sometimes you make me feel like I want to turn away. Some have said that your behavior doesn’t deserve my love, but I keep coming back. Once again, that is not for me to judge, and I will continue to give you my love freely, unconditionally and because I want to. Whatever you might think, the bond between a Mother and a Daughter is forever, no matter how many times you push me away. But something has to and is about to change…
“Unreachable Love” a painting.