I’d Give Anything for a Time Machine Right Now…
I want it so bad sometimes, it hurts
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Today is my birthday. It’s always an emotional day for me; it’s a day of a lot of reflecting and contemplating.
I think about my birth mother, a terrified 15-year-old who got pregnant. I’ve heard a couple of versions of that story and am not sure which one (if either) is the truth. Both are terrible. She was sent away by herself to live in a home for naughty girls until I was born. She wanted to keep me; after my birth she looked after me. I bonded with her and was taken away a few weeks later, against her will.
She was never able to have any other children; a terrible disappointment for her.
When we met many years later, it was wonderful — soul-feeding, restorative, healing on both sides. But for her, years of bitterness had taken their toll; she clung to her many and various longstanding hurts and grievances as though they were lifelines.
Because of this, I cannot have a relationship with her and haven’t spoken to her in nearly 30 years. Such a terrible waste of precious time…
I think of my (now grown) children and the issues that have created years of silence in various relationships amongst us. Most of my children have nothing to do with each other. And my relationships with a few of them are the same. It’s a mess of silently warring factions.
Personally, I am not at war with any of the ones who are immersed in toxic and destructive behaviour. I chose to get off the merry-go-round and step away years ago. I cannot have relationships with them. I will not subject myself to that sort of insanity ever again, even if it means ongoing separation from some of my children and four of five of my grandchildren.
I will never again be an emotional punching bag, no matter who is dishing it out. Secretly, I wish for healing of these relationships, but I know the issues extend well beyond me and are not about me. The issues are reflected elsewhere in the lives of my children who choose to stay on difficult paths.
But on my birthdays, I can’t help but remember the occasional happy one, way back in the Dark Ages when my children were young and making birthday cards and giving me birthday hugs…
