This weekend has been an interesting one. I could use a weekend after the way this one has gone. So many ups and downs. Honestly, lately I’ve felt caught up in a bit of a swirl. I’m not quite sure which way is up and which way is down. It’s uncomfortable. I started writing a blog post on Friday, but due to some computer issues, that post was lost. Interesting how that post was very much about me heading into a hurricane, where as this post will end up feeling as if I’m slowly coming out of it. Still disoriented, and unsure of which way to go, but feeling a bit more steady on my feet all the same.
I went out for coffee on Friday morning with a friend. He called me Mrs. Positive. “Jen you’d climb up a mountain, get hit by a few boulders on the way up and say “yea but look at this bad ass bruise – it looks like Abe Lincoln!”.”
Yea – ok. Fine. I try and go through life wearing rose tinted glasses. I realize that may seem a bit off. But I don’t see the point in dwelling in the negative. I suppose you wouldn’t know that if you read this blog – as I often write about the negatives. But that is actually because I need somewhere to let some of that out. I don’t like how negativity feels. It spews out of your mind.. and sticks around. It’s hard to break the habit of complaining or always pointing out the negative side of life. I know a few of my friends and loved ones who struggle with this. To outsiders, they’d be called “complainers”. They aren’t. They just don’t automatically try and find the positives. I do. Life has far too many negative stressors – why on earth would I want to dwell on them?! I’d rather celebrate my small wins – wherever they are.
Tonight, as I logged into Facebook, I was greeted by this:
6 years ago, I posted these. He hasn’t been on my mind all weekend. Other things have been taking up space lately. Fights with my mother, stressful deadlines at work, drama within the love life, it’s just been a lot to take. But thanks to Facebook – I am reminded of one more reason why I’m having a tough weekend. And yet – somehow, seeing his face, seeing mine in this photo and the tentative hope that was on my very tired looking face. Thanks Facebook. Oddly, I’m comforted by this today.
I said some horrible things to my mom today. In the moment, they were earned – even deserved. But now, I feel bad. The thing is, I love my mom. I always have and I always will. But… Sometimes, she says and does things that are really hurtful. Sometimes, when she acts that way, I feel worthless or stupid. As a kid, I can remember the occasions when we’d fight… I hate fighting with her. We both have very sharp tongues. I learned it from her. I have never liked that side of myself. Makes me wonder if she thinks about that side of herself in a similar light? I think somehow, that would make me feel better. She just doesn’t hear me. She gets so focused on pushing her way that she steam rolls anyone in front of her. Tunes them out and doesn’t even hear what they’re saying. Then she’ll have herself so worked up that she won’t hear you until she’s calmed all the way back down again – and that can take some time and patience. And usually – the person who’s on the other end of that angry woman to cave and compromise or give in.
Sometimes, I don’t want to give in. Sometimes, I want to be heard. She doesn’t have to agree with me – hell she can tell me to go fuck off for all I care, so long as she actually HEARS me. That’s all I wanted today. For her to hear what I was saying – because if she’d just shut up and listened to the words I’d said – I’d said that I would help her. That I didn’t care about anything but doing what I could to help her reduce the load and remove the stress. But she was on such a rant that she couldn’t hear that. Sigh. I lost my temper. I yelled. I’d asked my grandfather a question, and she yelled at me for daring to go over her head. I told her that she was not the matriarch of this family, that we were equals and that I was perfectly in my rights to ask him any question I like. I held my tongue here. I told her that just because she is my mother does not give her the right to be disrespectful or to treat me that way. That I may have taken it as a child, but that I didn’t have to take it as an adult. I told her that if she continued to act like this, she’d end up a lonely old woman who no one would want to be around. I told her to get counseling.
While I wouldn’t take back any of what I said – I stand my ground on all of it – I still feel guilt over it all. I hate that. I can remember as a kid, after these types of situations, I’d feel such tremendous guilt over the situation. I’d go make her a sandwich or scrambled eggs. I’d take out the garbage or do some other small chore to try and make up for it. I wish I could learn a better way to come to a good place with someone after a conflict like that.
Life is short. I know this better than most. I know that I’ll keep trying with my mother. I love her. She loves me. She and I have come along way over the years. I’ve cooled down a lot over the years. My Irish doesn’t show nearly as often as it used to. Life has thrown me curves, and I’ve learned to duck and swerve. I refuse to get caught in the trap of my own negativity.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to work. It’ll be another long, stressful, yet glorious week. I look forward to all the crazy dramatic challenges that will be thrown my way. And my personal life… I’ll figure it out. I always do. Put on a good song, light a few candles, write in my blog, and suddenly, I know that I’ll find my way.