Friday, January 27, 2006

journal entry 188...

sometimes i remember when i was a liitle girl i really felt loved by my mother. i wonder when that changed, and was it my fault? maybe my mother has always loved me the same amount, but my understanding of that amount, or its relevance changed the older i got.

maybe we both became more cynical with age and it changed with us.

i remember in the letter my mom sent me last spring, how she alluded to that line from my favorite short story:

"i just want you to know, baby, that you aren't that blue dress on the ironing board. you never were. i'm so sorry it took me so long to tell you, but i never knew you felt that way. i do love you, baby, and i'm sorry for the times you ever, ever doubted it. i'm ashamed for ever giving you a reason to doubt yourself - to doubt me."

i cried my fucking heart out for weeks after that. i read it over and over to myself and shared that part with a few close friends and cried some more.

my mom is just one person. she's had so many of her own struggles to deal with and i can be so judgemental and withholding. mothers are expected to do and know so much just by virtue of title. the fact that she's a real, fully realized human being with joys and sorrows, accomplishments and losses of her own never come into play. once she is a mother she belongs to the world and we are all free to judge accordingly.

i do love her though, and i'm sorry it's taken me so long to take her wins and losses seriously. her WHOLE life - as seriously as i take whatever its outcome on me.

and it's no fucking wonder i never want kids.

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