Posts Tagged With: BROKEN

Mel’s Ramblings

I am far from perfect. I make mistakes. I own my mistakes. I accept the consequences of my actions. I am nobody to judge anybody else. Why do those are the same as me, somehow think they’re better than me and have a right judge me? Everyone is the same. Everyone makes mistakes and nobody has the right to judge anybody else. I just wish the world would remember that. I wish certain people in my life would remember that.

These last few months have shown me how alone I really am. Getting a phone call from anyone other than my Daddy and texts from anyone other than my oldest daughter, Tiffany, is rare and far and few between. I know that some, like my best friend Polly and my younger brothers and sister have been going through there on ordeals which of course take priority in their lives. Yet others, who I thought would be there for support, vanished from my life. Then, there are those who have chosen to continue the gossip; spreading rumors, innuendos and judgements as if they are somehow above me and have never made mistakes and errors in judgement.

I’ve learned that I’m no one’s priority other than my own; no one can ever be trusted 100% other than my dad; and that most people who ask how you are would prefer you answer with the lie and say “great” than to tell the truth and say “not so good”. When you tell the truth, they stop asking because they don’t want to feel obligated to listen to your problems and help you fix them.

I think sometimes people forget or just simply don’t know what it’s like to be so overwhelmed with trials and tribulations that all you can do is pray for somebody to step in and help pick them back up, brush off the dust, and tell them it’s all going to be ok and that if no one does, how easy it is to simply give up because no one seems to care one way or another anyway.

And it is true that some people really do not care one way or the other as long as their life is going good for them. I have heard the phrase, “not my problem”, more times in the last three months then I think I have heard in my entire life. When did we reach the point where people only care about themselves not about the people around them? Just because it’s not your problem doesn’t mean you shouldn’t help, does it? Sometimes, the only help when needs is an ear to listen and a mouth that delivers wise advice. Is that so hard to do these days? Where has all the empathy gone? And if you can’t take the time out to listen to another and advise them what makes you think everyone should take the time to listen to you when you find yourself in an upward battle? Are you really that much better than the rest of the world?

Ramblings from the mind of a broken-hearted, lost soul.

Forever in his Grace,

Mel

Categories: Adventure, Friendship, Life | Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Finding Mel Again

First, a note that I have just written as a response on a friend’s FB page.

While Fairy Tales are cool and all that; it needs to be made clear that they are only fairy tales and things like that don’t happen in real life.  Keep it real with your kids so they can handle reality when it hits them upside the sides of their heads, blindsides them and sends them spinning like a tornado in the midst of disaster.
I’ve learned that the majority of people prefer not to hear about the ugly truths that are our reality. They prefer fairy tales and happy endings.
Unfortunately, fairy tales and happy endings exist only in books and the imagination. Is it any wonder why some have such difficulty dealing with tragedy when we are raised listening to how maids turn into princesses and are saved by their Prince Charming?
We look for our Prince, the perfect guy that is there to rescue us from all the ugly guys. The villains are always dark and unattractive while the Prince is always handsome and wealthy.
Little do we know, it is the handsome, wealthy, perfect guy who says all the right things at all the right times that we must avoid. No one sees how the Prince is after the sun goes down and he has the darkness to hide his deeds under.
But what kind of fairy tale does the truth make? Who wants to date the ugly guy anyway. People will stare at you and make fun of you.
Well, it’s better to be mocked by the blissfully ignorant masses than it is to be a victim of the great pretender.

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I am not who I was two years ago.  I couldn’t even tell you who I was two years ago.  I thought I knew me, but in the midst of tragedy, I lost who I was and became who I really am.  I have learned more about myself through recent tragedy than any other event in my lifetime.  I know things about the world that I never knew before that makes everything look so different now than it did before the tornado struck my family.


OK – More thoughts – bear with me.  Things have been crazy, wild, and weird this year.  Another comment.


[I have to xxxxxx a lot out right here xxxxxx.  I should’ve posted this the day I wrote it. xxxxxxxx.]
So tired of this. A year and a half – longer – 1 3/4 years – He’s been at it. You know I fear nothing now. I believe I’ve lost my sanity, or at least half of it.  More likely that I’ve woken up into the real reality that the majority are still sleeping through.  Either way,  I’m still finding me.


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I haven’t written about my one daughter as of yet. It still hurts to much and even more so now. There is both good and bad happening daily. I suppose as long as it balances out, I will continue to survive it. After all, I’ve remained standing this long.


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I am glad for those who continue to speak out on suicide. All of my children and myself have suicidal tendencies. I could never – I would just lay in bed forever and hope it would happen but the children always interrupt me and I have to get up. My children on the other other hand; I never witnessed what they experienced and I could not imagine how they managed to find ways of surviving; but I see the after effects and they aren’t pretty or poetic or fluffy. I can relate to the breaking of one’s own heart. I do it on a daily basis no matter how hard I try not to. It seems the harder I try not to, the more defined the cracks become.


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It’s difficult to smile when one of your children are not. I feel guilty being happy and it’s hard to be happy when not all the children are happy. I hurt over that. I blame me. Sometimes, the children blame me too. BUT! In the good news, there is my eldest who just recently went on a vacation – jailhouse style. He begged me to bail him out. I told him, not this time son. This time, you will stay put. Don’t call me. Don’t write me. Don’t ask me for money. When you get out, you are not welcome in my home. The day you decide to be sober and stay sober and get help to face your demons is the day you can come home.

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He’s my first born. It hurt to say those words to him and hurt more to write them in a letter and mail them to him. Knowing his suicidal thoughts and not wanting to make him feel disposed of. Fearing the outcome of what I had just done yet knowing it was the only action I could take as I cannot travel his path for him.


2015-03-14 02.19.13


My son called me collect today and I took the call. He’s seen a psychiatrist. He’s on medication. He thanked me for leaving him there and told me not to bail him out yet because he wants to spend more time staying sober because right now he would go back to using. The relief his words brought me today – the knowing that I am not going to find him dead when I go check on him – either from an overdose or the hands of another or his own hands. My son is finally growing up.  Drugs mask pain.  Sobriety lets it flow out.  The memories are painful.  But he’s ready to face them head on and release them into the past where they belong and I thank God for that.


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It is time to find me or redefine me or whatever you wish to call it when the moment hits you that you have no idea who you are and you decide to find yourself.  The only place I know to look is inside of myself.  First, I need to clear out the junk that I’m buried under.  That should lighten the load quite a bit and make it easier to walk my path.  The distractions catch me every time and I don’t need to keep dragging them around with me anyway.  I’ve found that writing the junk out of me, keeps it from coming back and it soon disappears into the archives of my blogs.  Put the past where it belongs:  in the archives.


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Off I go to find me.  Sometimes, a little me time is in order so be sure to take some for yourself as well.

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Categories: Adventure | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Broken

And so I picked up what's left of the broken pieces of
my soul and created a magnificent masterpiece and displayed
it for all the world to see the beauty in
The Broken.

The Broken live in an alternate reality. We see what the Unbroken cannot see.


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They see a black or white world; bad or good. We see all the shades of grey; bad and good together in everything. We see the Monsters wearing suits and the Angels wearing rags. They cannot see the Monsters. They cannot see the Angels. They are Unbroken. They have not crawled through the depths of hell and climbed their way up and out like We have.


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They have not been brought down to their knees and experienced excruciating agony; the kind that makes you pray for death. They have not taken the Road Less Traveled; been Persecuted; journeyed down the Long and Lonely, Narrow and Difficult Path that leads to their Faith; to meet God; to be saved by HIS Amazing Grace; to have their Pain and Suffering washed away; to be granted their Treasures Beyond Imagination; to receive their Purpose in Life’s Adventures.




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They travel the Wide Roads in Packs, through the Darkness, lost but Content, following those in front of them. They Fear the Unknown. They Fear Walking Alone, for they Mock and Persecute those who do. They only take a stand when the Pack takes a stand and when they stand, they stand for all the wrong reasons; they stand for selfish reasons; they stand with expectations of gaining something in return; arrogantly thinking that they are on their way to the lights shining down from heaven above. The light they see is not the glorious light of heaven, but the glow of the intense inferno burning deep in the depths of hell.




2015-06-01 08.57.49The Unbroken cannot see all of the world’s realities. The Unbroken live in ignorant bliss, blind to the harsh reality that they walk alongside and follow behind the Evil-Doers; the Monsters sent from Hell to keep them Living in the Darkness; to Trip them when they stand on the Path of Righteousness and Pull them back down into the Darkness to keep them from following the Path to all that’s Right and Just in this world.



John 1-9


2015-05-31 10.06.222015-03-30 19.08.23The Broken have faced the Monsters; Witnessed and Experienced first hand how truly Cruel and Evil the Monsters in man’s mask can be.  They’ve been Broken Beyond Repair by the Monster’s Evil Works; then finally, found Balance and Stood up as The Lone Warrior, Armed only with Truth and Knowledge and Surrounded by Heaven’s Light, against the Pack. The Truth and Knowledge granted at the end of their Journey to meet God provided them Strength and Power which the Unbroken could never Imagine nor Possess. Neither the Monsters nor the Unbroken can enter the Light shining down from Heaven.  The Broken Rose up Above the Darkness and the Monsters and defeated them in Glorious Victory.


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The Broken see everything the Unbroken cannot see for the Broken have lived and survived the Adventures down the long, lonely, narrow and dangerous path through the depths of hell and climbed their way out.  No one who hasn’t lived it could ever imagine it. If they cannot imagine it; then they cannot believe it. If they cannot believe it; then it cannot be true. If it cannot be true; then the Broken must be Insane. It is easier to believe that the Broken are Insane than it is to believe that there are Horrors in this world committed by Monsters wearing Masks of Men with whom they walk alongside for Company and follow from behind for Direction.


We, the Broken, Live in an Alternate Reality; See the Unseen; Know the Unknown; Hear the Unheard; Speak the Unspoken; Possess a Strength that the Unbroken could never Imagine nor Feel unless they become Broken.


Melissa Livingston
Surrounded by Heaven’s Light
March 23, 2015 – Published July 23, 2015

Categories: Adventure, Healing | Tags: , , , , , ,

Cuts Run Deep

Cuts run deep down to the core, the center of my being;

So deep, they run straight through my soul;

So deep, no words can soothe nor meds can hide;

So deep, where memories won’t fade and time won’t dull.

Never ending flooding of never forgotten memories;

Cuts run deep, leaving wounds that never heal;

Bleeding that never stops, pain that never ceases;

Unimaginably, excruciating pain that couldn’t be real.

Never ending, never fading, never healing,

Deep Cuts. Forever Pains. Unforgettable Memories.

Creep Up.  Tear Through My Soul.

Day after Day after Day after Day…

……AFTER DAY……CUTS RUN DEEP.

Mel Living, 2015

Categories: Adventure, Healing, Narcissistic Sociopath, Parenthood, Tragedy | Tags: , , ,

He Was a Parasite

Grey’s Anatomy

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head [2.1]

Meredith: [voiceover] To be a good surgeon you have to think like a surgeon. Emotions are messy. Tuck them neatly away and step into a clean sterile room where the procedure is simple. Cut, suture, and close. But sometimes you’re faced with a cut that won’t heal. A cut that rips its stitches wide open.

please dont touch meShe had a way about her that was strictly business.  She never hugged anyone.  She never complimented anyone.  She never said I love you nor requested quality time with anyone.  Her goals were set.  Her aspirations were prioritized.  Her priorities were detailed down to every step necessary to reach each level.  She had a plan and she was following it.  She didn’t have time for nonsense such as caring for others or what they needed.  She wouldn’t hug anyone and no one could get close enough to hug her.  She was focused and nothing was ever going to stand in her way.  Mom wishes Mom knew then what Mom knows now;  why she was so guarded with her feelings and so adamant about perfection.

Meredith: [voiceover] They say that practice makes perfect. Theory is– the more you think like a surgeon, the more you become like one, the better you get at remaining neutral, clinical, cut, suture, close – the harder it becomes to turn it off. To stop thinking like a surgeon, and remember what it means to think like a human being.

2015-03-05 06.12.44At times, she would slip and Mom would catch a little sparkle in her eye.  She would write something that let Mom see a glimpse of her true self and all of the love and compassion she hid deep inside the core of her being.  She put on a good show, but that’s all it was, just a show.  Mom admired her focus and strength in her ability to follow through on everything she started.  She never missed a day of school, never had a missing or incomplete assignment.  She never got anything less and an A on every single one.

Enough Is Enough (No More Tears) [2.2]

Meredith[Voiceover]: I have an aunt who whenever she poured anything for you she would say “Say when!” My aunt would say “Say when!” and of course, we never did. We don’t say when because there’s something about the possibility, of more. More tequila, more love, more anything. More is better.daughter-WM

She was so wonderful and doing so well that Mom rewarded her quite often for her hard work.  Mom rewarded her so much so, that she had everything she wanted.  The more she wanted;  the more Mom gave her.  Mom was not spoiling her.  She worked hard and earned it all.  She would even do extra just to get more.

Meredith: [voiceover]: There’s something to be said about a glass half full. About knowing when to say when. I think it’s a floating line. A barometer of need and desire. It’s entirely up to the individual. And depends on what’s being poured. Sometimes all we want is a taste. Other times there’s no such thing as enough, the glass is bottomless. And all we want, is more.

4bdffa5d22beacdbeb84fa9d7ec1f2efThe more she got, the more she wanted.  It got to the point where nothing was ever enough or good enough for her.  She was not happy with what she had, but she knew what Mom could get her that would make her happy.  When she is happy, Mom is happy.  It didn’t matter that Mom gave her what she said she needed to be happy.  She still wasn’t happy.  Mom did everything Mom could to fill her emotional emptiness.  Mom thought for sure that she unhappy because she never allowed her emotions to be seen on her face.  Mom loved her well enough.  It was not Mom’s love that she lacked.  It was love from anyone but Mom.  Mom is her mother, of course, Mom loves her.  Mom is obligated to love her according to her thoughts.

Make Me Lose Control [2.3]

Meredith: [voiceover] Surgeons are control freaks.  With a scalpel in your hand, you feel unstoppable. There’s no fear, there’s no pain. You’re ten-feet tall and bulletproof. And then you leave the OR. And all that perfection, all that beautiful control, just falls to crap.”

Those with an evil heartShe gave up everything for him. Everything she was born with, everything she earned, everything she had planned her entire life for; all of her dreams, goals and aspirations; herself at the very core of her being; home – family – unconditional love – education – dreams – hopes – wishes – desires – future – friends – all of it. She threw it all away for him. She threw away everything that made her who she was. She lost control and she lost herself in the process.

Meredith: [voiceover] “No one likes to lose control, but as a surgeon there’s nothing worse. It’s a sign of weakness, of not being up to the task. And still there are times when it just gets away from you. When the world stops spinning and you realize that your shiny little scalpel isn’t gonna save you. No matter how hard you fight it, you fall. And it’s scary as hell. If there’s an upside to free-falling, it’s the chance you give your friends to catch you.”

the mroe you sacrifice the more you hurtThe one thing she wants most in the world is to feel loved and she would sacrifice everything to get it and that is exactly what she did.  She sacrificed everything to get it from him.  Still, he gave up nothing for her. He was selfish. He turned her against everyone who truly cared for her with empty promises of love.  She took the knife, and with his guidance, buried deep in the back of the only constant she has ever had for her entire life; the one person who loved her in a manner that no one else in the world could ever love her; that kind of dont hurt a friend who loves youunconditional, never-ending love that a mother holds for her child, the one person who would and has sacrificed wants and desires for her; the only person she knew who would always answer the phone when she called, regardless of time and place; the woman who gave her life and would give up her own life for her; her mother;  she sacrificed Mom.  She did it for him and the love he made her believe he held for her.

Deny, Deny, Deny [2.4]

Meredith: [voiceover]The key to surviving a surgical internship is denial.  We deny that we’re tired, we deny that we’re scared, we deny how badly we want to succeed. And most importantly, we deny that we’re in denial. We only see what we want to see and believe what we want to believe, and it works. We lie to ourselves so much that after a while the lies start to seem like the truth. We deny so much that we can’t recognize the truth right in front of our faces.”

Whats wrong with meHe remained selfish. He gave up nothing, took everything, yet still he wouldn’t take her. He couldn’t care for her. He had his own desires to fill. He wouldn’t work to support her. He kept her mind all twisted up in knots. She stood firm, begged, pleaded, even wanted to know why he couldn’t truly love her.  IMG_20150328_042343What was so wrong with her that made her unlovable?  Was it because she was so broken and damaged?  Or was because she had nothing left for him to take from her?  She stood firm in her conviction that she didn’t need anyone else.  She was sure that he would see all that she had sacrificed for him and he would reciprocate the love she felt.  Little did she know that the one thing she wants most is something he could never give her.  He hasn’t the capacity to love anyone other than himself.

Meredith: [voiceover] Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired, we are scared, denying it doesn’t change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world. Head on, guns blazing. De Nile. It’s not just a river in Egypt, it’s a freakin’ ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?

the word sorry wont fix what you did this timeIMG_17278213801921Once he was sure she was devastated and alone, with no one left to turn to and nothing left to lose, he walked away from her, as if she was nothing, and never looked back.  Who can she call now? Her friends are long gone.  She turned her back on them.  Maybe, her family.  Maybe she could call Mom.  There’s nobody else who would do anything for her now. He saw to that. Then it hit her so much harder than she ever thought it would.  She had done so much more than just push Mom away.  What she had done was something that can never be undone, could it?

Wonderful girl BrokenMom had been stubborn and fought the loss of her only daughter.  Mom would find ways to get messages to her and would email her once or twice a day.  She had replied to every communication and every reply would tell Mom how much she hated Mom and wanted Mom to get out of her life and stay out.  Mom hurt deep down the core.  She had devastated Mom in the same manner that her infant brother’s death had devastated Mom.  Mom would always tell her that Mom’s love was unconditional and would always be unconditional.  She took advantage of that love and used it for her own gain.  Her show was no longer a show.  It had become who she is.  389129_407522972644254_1337971205_nCold, cruel, and willing to do anything to get what she wants, regardless of who get’s hurt in the process and anyone standing between her and what she wants will be chewed to bits and pieces and then ground into the dirt for extra measure.

93dae9f08f39c39dbb23b9a1b45cea2eBut now, she had pushed Mom so far away and hurt Mom so badly that the emails stopped.  The messages  Mom would send out in mass which she completely ignored stopped.  Mom hadn’t even attempted to make contact with her recently.  She was relieved when Mom gave up trying to have a part in her life.  Mom always did give her everything she wanted if Mom was capable of giving it.  She didn’t ever believe that Mom would leave her life forever.  That isn’t what she really wanted, but she thought there was time.  We always think there’s time.

It is better to let some one walk away from youMom’s love is unconditional, but Mom’s battle is over. No longer will Mom fight to keep her in Mom’s life.  Mom will give her what she wants and walk away.  Mom is tired.  Mom is hurt.  Mom is done.

M Livingston

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Categories: Adventure | Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Every Single Little Broken Piece of Me

Screenshot_2015-03-25-13-03-24-1You want someone to feel
the pain that you feel;
to feel how deep it hurts;
to know how unbearable it is;
how shattered you have
become because of it all,
yet still capable of sharing
unlimited love in spite of it all.

You know you’re broken.
You know how broken you are.
You’re content with being broken.
You’ve accepted yourself
in all of your brokenness.
You don’t want to be fixed.
You want to be seen.
You want to be loved.


You want to see that you’re seen
and feel that you’re loved,
all the way deep,
down to your core,
to the very center of your existence.

You need to see that you’re seen
and feel that you’re loved
for who you are,
as you are now.

Every Single Little
Broken Piece of You.

Categories: Love | Tags: , , , , ,

“I don’t think my family hates me. They just don’t care.”

I read those words posted by a new found friend and fellow warrior, Grace.  Those words have been circling around in my head ever since.

From a quick Google search…

My Parents Don’t Care About Me

Getting Older and The Family That Could Care Less

Why do we need counseling for children who feel their parents hate them?  What is wrong with this world?

My Parents Hate Me

The longer I am a therapist for teens, the more emails I get from desperate teenagers. The emails are most often about a painful incident that makes a teen believe their parent(s) hate them.

Other reasons I get emails from teens:
1. Looking for help: How can I get my parents to say yes?
2. Looking for help: How can I make my parents like me more?
3. Looking for help: Why won’t my parents trust me?
4. Looking for help: Why won’t my parents let me be myself?

I KNOW THOSE WORDS.

Brian and I went up to TMC to see his new granddaughter.  She’s over a week old, but there’s a problem with her blood sugar so she has not been able to go home yet.  She was taken to Tucson where the specialists can run some tests.  Mommy and Daddy have not left her side.  They have many visitors, both friends and family.  People bring them necessities and goodies to snack on as well as little gifts for the baby.  There is always somebody there checking on them and making sure they are hanging in there.  That is LOVE.  Love is helping them travel the difficult path they are on.  As I sat and observed, I felt out of place.  I have not known Love like that.

I DO NOT KNOW THAT LOVE.

When I was hospitalized during my pregnancy with Angel, no one sent me flowers.  No one came to visit.  No one checked up on me.  No one cared.  When I lost Angel, no one came.  No one called.  No one cared.  Some people came to the funeral, but they weren’t there for me.  No one offered me comfort.  My own mother was there.  You know what she talked about?  I allowed her to hold Angel before I put him in his forever bed and she said that holding him was helping her put her miscarriage behind her.  My mother wasn’t very far along when she miscarried a pregnancy before I was born and after my brother was born.  She was in her first trimester and she tells me about how she went to the bathroom one day with terrible cramps and it just came out.  She flushed and that was the end of that.  I don’t want to downplay what she may have been through, but this was not the place nor the time for her to make the day about her and how she can finally recover from a miscarriage that happened over 25 years prior.  Why does she always do that to me?  I have a tragedy.  I am in need of comfort.  I need a hug.  What do I get from her?  A story about something that she went through and how it affected her.  The day with Angel was not a miscarriage.  I had a baby and he died.  There is a difference and on the day I am burying my baby, I don’t give a damn about her miscarriage or anyone else’s for that matter.

WHY DO YOU ALWAYS OVERSHADOW MY TRAGEDIES WITH YOUR OWN?

I was thinking about that day while sitting in the hospital waiting room and watching this wonderful, loving family interact.  It seemed so disgustingly pathetic and mushy.  It is a beautiful thing.  It angered me.  Why would witnessing so much love and comfort within a family anger me?  That doesn’t make sense.  What is so special about her that she gets so much attention?  Wasn’t I worth somebody caring about me like that?  Don’t I deserve some type of compassion or am I invisible?

I AM INVISIBLE.

I sat in sadness, remembering how I felt the day I lost Angel and the months and years that followed.  I prayed to God that these people do not have to endure what I have endured.  They asked me if I wanted to go in to see her.  I declined.  They asked why.  I simply said, “I will see her when she comes home.  Grandpa should go see her one more time before we leave.”  This day was not about me or my loss or my fears.  This day was about them and I was not going to do what my mother did and soil it for them.  It’s hard enough for them as it is.

I WILL NOT BE LIKE MY MOTHER.

I was angry because I wanted what they had, but I learned long ago that I will never have it.  My mother is my mother. Maybe she loves me but does not know how to show it.  Maybe she hates me but does not want to admit it.  Maybe she never really wanted me in the first place.  My mother is who she is and she is not going to change.  She will not be the mother that goes shopping with her daughter and has lunch on occassion.  She will not be the mother that comforts and wipes away tears.  She will never be the grandmother I had hoped my children would have, as I have most wonderful grandmothers.  I recently asked various family members if my mother had always been that way or if she just hated me.  It is not me, my aunt assured me.  My mother has always been cold.  They attribute it to her being the oldest of five and havng to do most of the work on the ranch and help with the other children.  “It is what it is”, my aunt said.  It is life.  Stop trying to make her proud.  She will never say those words.  Stop tryng to please her she will never be pleased.  Stop waiting for her to see you.

I WILL ALWAYS BE INVISIBLE TO HER

Of course, I have people in my life who care and that is great but it is not the same as having my mother be there.  At least, that’s what I think when I try to imagine how it would be if she could see me.

I have read many books that discuss the mother-daughter bond. Each time I read a different volume, unexpected tears would stream down my cheeks. For I could not recall attachment, closeness, memories of the scent of Mother’s perfume, the feel of her skin, the sound of her voice singing in the kitchen, the solace of her rocking, holding and comforting, the intellectual stimulation and joy of being read to.

via When the Mother-Daughter Bond Is Missing | Tips on Life and Love.

Mom,

If you read this…Do you read my writings?  Do you even know that I write?  This is my perspective.  This is how I feel.  Remember shortly after you and Dad divorced, on your birthday, I had Ginger’s mom bake your favorite cake, German Chocolate, for me to give you?  I made a bunch of little note cards, ‘clues’, with directions, telling you where to find the next clue.  The ‘clues’ took you to your surprise, the cake, was set up with candles for you.  I tried so hard that day to make it special and get a thank you and an I love you from you.  You didn’t even care.  You blew out the candles and then left for the bar.  Remember the pair of slippers I ave you that you turned around and gave to somebody else?  I spent a lot of time and effort picking those out for you because I love you.

MY LOVE IS UNCONDITIONAL.

You now all of my perfect, 4.0 report cards?  I worked hard to get those for you, but they never seemed good enough.  Everything I did was to please you and get you to love me.  I didn’t have to work that hard for the 4.0.  I was pretty smart.  I still am.  Did you know I was in the G.A.T.E program?  Did you know I tutored the younger grades?  Did you know I was in a lot of plays?  Did you know that I went to church almost every Sunday with Mr. and Mrs. Taylor who lived on the corner of the cul-de-sac?  Did you know the older boy, Danny Nelson, molested me in our home while you were out with whichever boyfriend?  Did you know that my brother and I were awake that night that Jerry Scangorillo (sp) raped you and we heard everything?  Why did you keep bringing strays home to live in our house, give them my bedroom and make me move into my brother’s bedroom?  I was a preteen and I needed my privacy.  You never cared to talk to me about anything, not even about my future, boys, college, sex, etc.  Yet still, I love you.  You’re my mom.

DAD TAUGHT ME UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.

Dad was there for me.  Dad was always there.  Dad loved me.  Dad taught me unconditional love.  Dad wanted me around.  I remember the first time I told you I wanted to go live with Dad.  You poured tears, accused me of not loving you, told me how much I was hurting you, asked why I wanted to break your heart and then proceeded to tell me bad things about Dad.  You made me feel guilty for loving my father and wanting him in my everyday life.  Did you know, after you moved me up north and changed my last name and forbade me to speak to Dad, that I cried myself to sleep every night because I missed him so much and it hurt so bad?  Then, you moved me to Arizona and I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to run away.  That’s why I ran away.  I couldn’t talk to you because last time I tried, you made me feel like garbage and you would never have let me go anyway.  I hid from you while Dad took care of the court paperwork.  You tried telling the judge I wasn’t old enough to choose, but he saw through you.  You couldn’t manipulate him like you could others.  You know what, maybe, just maybe, you are the first abusive relationship I have experienced.  Maybe it was you that taught me to be comfortable in bad situations and let me fall into that pattern of abusive relationships.  Yet still, I love you.  You’re my mom.

YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MY MOM.

I’LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU.

~Melissa

TELL YOUR CHILDREN THAT YOU LOVE THEM.  HUG THEM.  SHOW THEM YOU CARE.  YOU AREN’T MAKING US STRONGER BY NOT SHOWING US LOVE.  YOU ARE BREAKING US.  END THE EPIDEMIC OF BROKEN PEOPLE.

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