Monday, June 4, 2012

They say it's your birthday

It's my mother's birthday today. I didn't remember until I saw some of my cousins posting greetings to her on Facebook. Facebook! You all-knowing, all-freaking thing.

I've been trying to kill my parents so I'm not surprised they aren't on my mind in a traditionally good way. It's been said, I've been told, I'm trying to hear and believe that if I kill them off a little bit at a time, ease them in fragments from my emotional world so they can't hurt me any more. So that it won't sting so much, make me so angry and horribly jangled the next time I have to talk to them or see them.

Maybe it's working? I'm not compelled to call and I don't feel guilty about it. In fact, I feel relieved I don't have to talk to her and hear whether or not my brother already called. And if he did call, how much sooner he did so than I. I don't have to hear how much money she doesn't have to celebrate or listen to confusing and awkwardly strung together stories about her current medical condition.

I started crying yesterday while my husband was talking to me about all of our online accounts and how to access them. He was standing behind me and felt miles tall while I sat in my chair looking up at him. Instantly, instantly I felt 14 years old and I was being blamed for something I hadn't done.

I need to loosen their grip on me. I'm not light-hearted and I can't pretend I don't feel this way. I have kids to raise and a husband to love and I have no more time for their omnipresent judgment.

So, today, on the day of her birth I hope she dies a little bit more.

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