It's complicated

There are plenty of things I don't understand.   Relationships being the trickiest of all.

My mom volunteered a little of her time in a domestic violence shelter back home.  I met a few of the women staying there, women with blackened eyes, bloodied lips and swollen cheeks from their significant others.  I was always so proud of the women who got out, who ran with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and their kids. I remember being angry with the women that went back to those men.  Choosing that life, knowing they may not ever be strong enough to leave again.  Some of these women were in and out of the shelter numerous times - enough to where I knew them personally.  Sadly, I remember one woman we never saw again.  Her husband had brutally murdered her after he'd finally convinced her to come back to him. I'll never understand. 

I've found that no relationship is ever easy, parents, children, siblings, in-laws - any of it or all of it = not easy.  In fact, down right, plain old complicated. 

I had hoped after my mom passed away, some of my relationships would uncomplicate themselves but, to no avail.  In fact, some got worse. People always think they have the answer to every one else's problems.  They especially think mothers and daughters automatically bake cookies together, shop together and enjoy mother daughter tea parties.  There are those of us that know better.    You don't need to fix us.   You don't need to say the right thing or be uncomfortable  with us.  Most of us are quite comfortable with who we are or even who we aren't.   Please, just be yourself.   It's not complicated. 

I try not to think too much, of myself or of others.  I try not to have an opinion of anyone but myself.  I try not to be envious or to covet.  I try to mind my own business and keep my nose on my own page.  I find it a bit less complicated this way. Less to discuss, less to explain. It's hard though, to try to be better when people around you bring their judgements to your door.  When others try to force their opinions on you, to make you agree with them.  Why do we all have to agree?  Why can't it just be complicated and we leave it at that?

Just a song in my head

"It's so funny how we don't talk anymore
It's so funny why we don't talk anymore
But I ain't losing sleep and I ain't counting sheep
It's so funny how we don't talk anymore"

-Cliff Richard

It's a song from like 1979 and it's stuck in my head this afternoon. 

I was thinking earlier, next Spring, Jeremy and I will have been together 15 years.  When he was in the restaurant, once in a while, one of the servers would talk to me about him, something he'd said or done and as she was talking, I'd think to myself - Yeah, I do know.  He's MY husband.  We talk, there is no way you know him better than I do.

I think back to my mom often, and someone had once told her how I was manipulative and spoiled (which I was in my teens and 20's) I was.  I remember my mom's response to her - She's my daughter, I know full well what she can be. 

When I think about Jacob, I think about my relationship with my own mom.   I think about the things I shared with her, the things I kept to myself, and...uh...the things she heard about second and maybe even third hand.

I think about how she knew me.  The things she knew about me and I realize that after a point, and to a point, she and I were quite close.  After a certain age, I didn't have anything to hide.  It didn't matter anymore.  I knew who I was, she knew who I was, we both knew what made me who I was.  We also knew there was no going back.

In a way, I'm thankful that my mom never tried to hold onto my childhood. Never tried to take care of me or keep me under her wings.  I'm thankful she taught me not to need her, that she wouldn't save me or that I had to depend on her.  In some ways, I'm glad to know I couldn't rely on her.  I did it. I grew up.  

When she died, I didn't need her.  I hadn't needed her for some time.  When I say I didn't need her, I don't mean I didn't love or want her. I mean I didn't need her.  That time had come and gone. 

As parents, it's our job to grow our kids to not need us.  To not depend on us, to not need our help.  I think so anyway.  

I'll remember things for Jacob - his favorite foods, a few funny stories but I hope I remember to care for and love him for the person he is, not the person someone else sees or as the person he once was but for the man who grew into, the husband and father he'll hopefully become one day.   I'll be sure to make him a box of macaroni one day but, only when he asks me to, and not force him to relive my memories of him. 

I know my son. I know him as his mother.  I don't know him as a friend or as a student. I don't know him as his father does.  I don't know him as a teammate. I will never know him as a husband, as a father to his own children.  I will certainly never know him better than his wife. It's up to him to build that and me to stay out of his way when the time comes. 

Like any mom, I hope my son will always love me but, I'm not going to fight for it.  Or make an asshole of myself chasing after him, begging for his attention.  I hope I do it better than my parents so he knows I love him.  I hope I never get to a point where he doesn't want to speak to me or feels he has to cut me out. I want him to know he's loved and not feel suffocated by his overbearing parents.  I hope I teach him not to need me.  To know he'll be fine without me.  I think that's one of the best things I can give him.

Why?

Why are people such jerks?

Why are people so selfish?

Why are people offended by such little things?

Why when people don't know what to say or how to relate they back so far up they end up doing nothing?

Why do people send really late birthday cards?

Why do some not send any cards at all?

Why do people make themselves the center of attention?

Why do people act as if another person's hardships are irrelevant?

Why doesn't anyone have compassion?

Why must people share photos of torture and abuse?

Why don't kids play outside anymore?

Why do parents hover?

Why does a single mom not educate her child about the responsibility of diabetes?

Why does a child even have diabetes?

Why do parents ignore their children?

Why do other parents spoil theirs?

Why did my dad have to be sick?

Why couldn't I have a better relationship with my mom?

Why did my parents die when I was so young?

Why was my sister killed in an accident?

Why am I still here?

Why does my sister have cancer?

Why does this woman live to 105?

Why are some outspoken?

Why are some terribly shy?

Why doesn't anyone ask how I am?

Why do I care?

Why do some women have 10 children and 11 different dads and I can't carry one?

Why don't I trust people?

Why do I think I have to be strong?

Why are some people so weak?

Why does all this matter?