Waterton National Park

 

I was here yesterday morning, overlooking this beautiful lake.  We had a lovely weekend and then I had a breakdown/breakthrough, on the way home.  It's a long story but basically I burst into tears in a restaurant on the way home when the big guy asked me why didn't I just tell him what I wanted.

I started crying and couldn't stop crying.  I had to leave and go sit in the car;  I told the big guy some of what was going through my head.  And then I cried for the next two hours until we got home.  Good times.

One of my earliest memories is of me standing in front of my mother while my mother cried, wrung her hands and said, "I wish I could just leave."  I was three years old.  I was still wearing diapers and a onesie when I realized that a mother could leave and that I didn't matter. 

I've felt invisible for most of my life. When the big guy and I walk, people literally walk into me.  They don't see me.  When I was growing up, it didn't matter what I wanted, I was told what would be.  My mother never learned how to ask for what she wanted;  she learned instead how to manipulate to get what she wanted.  She didn't teach me a healthy way to ask for what I wanted.

Last night I realized I believe that I am unlovable, invisible, not wanted.  Still.  I don't ask for what I want because I don't believe anybody cares.  I also have a belief that if people loved me, they would know what it was that I wanted and they would just give it to me.  Love for me doesn't include the answer no obviously.  The big guy also pointed out to me that by not asking for what I want I also take no responsibility for what happens. 

In my head I know that this is not true but deep inside of me there is still that little girl who feels invisible to her mother.  That little girl is the one that needs to believe that she is loveable and then she needs to learn how to ask for what she wants instead of doing what she thinks others want her to do and then feeling resentful.

My parents were not horrible people.  They were deeply flawed, wounded people, much like me.  I know that I have wounded my own children as well which  breaks my heart because I never meant to do that, just as my own parents never meant to hurt me.  And so it goes. 

It's tiring work this growing up. 

Things I'm thankful for today.

Flowers.
A cyst removal and biopsy that hurt even less than the doctor said it would.
Five days off!
Three days spent here.
The tiling is almost done.
My laundry room/closet will now be a very cheerful yellow.
Sunshine.
Cheese and crackers.
A new meditation practice and by practice I mean practice, as in learning and failing and trying again.
A wonderful counselor that's helping me.
Did I mention five days off? 

What are thankful for today?

I took this photo five minutes ago.  My washer, dryer and stove are all where my dining table should be.  The floors have been stripped of the vinyl flooring.  There are stacks of tiles everywhere, waiting for the contractor to come tomorrow.  The cat sleeps blissfully on the back of the couch.  My back hurts.  And I hate chaos!  Why did I ever think this was a good idea?  Shit.

My day in photos.  Tuna noodle casserole for Miss Katie.  What you can't see is the tools on the other kitchen counter, the piles of tiles scattered around the condo, or the floor that has been ripped up.

 

 

 

A walk in the river valley, my reward for ripping up the flooring in the bathroom and removing some of the backsplash in the kitchen.

 

 

 

Trees in bloom in the river valley.

 

 

I ran into one of our docs in the river valley.  He wanted to show me this moth, can't remember the name of it. 

The wild rose of Alberta;  the smell of these flowers is unbelievable. 

 The sun is shining.  Summer has arrived finally. 

 

How was your day?

The lovely and beautiful Miss Katie. 

My middle daughter came for a visit last weekend.  We pretended it was Katie's birthday, only two weeks early and Katie doesn't know or care.  We had a wiener roast in the park.  There were bead necklaces and tiaras, hotdogs and smores.  She ran with her brother, walked with her sister, saw babies and dogs.  There was even birthday cake with a candle and singing of Happy Birthday;  she made us sing it a couple of times, then she clapped.  At one point she was laying on the grass laughing, unable to get up.  It was a good day for her and the medicinal marijuana helped ease her fears.

My middle daughter and I did not have a good relationship for a long time.  It was good when she was younger but as she became a teenager, around thirteen, I became very irritating and stupid to her.  When she was fifteen she ran away from home because there were too many rules.  She agreed to come home but only if she didn't have a curfew anymore.  At this point my son was lost to drugs so I agreed.  So at fifteen, my daughter came home at whatever time she felt like and falling down drunk.  This lasted for a few months.  She dropped out of school, took jobs, quit jobs, tried to go back to school, dropped out again and then got more jobs.  Three years ago she moved away from Edmonton to live with her father in Vancouver.  She was still angry with me and it just got worse.  But just before my mum died, two days before my mum died, I called my daughter so that my mum could talk to her granddaughter.  And then my mum died and my daughter came home for the funeral and we carefully started to rebuild our relationship, both of us nervous and scared but wanting a relationship.

So last weekend she was hear and my pain in the ass teenage daughter has blossomed into a lovely, thoughtful young woman.  I am so thankful and blessed.  But I did have to laugh.  She has turned out so much like me that I just had to shake my head.  She's an adult now and we can have adult conversations.  She no longer lives under my roof and I can see her as an adult now;  I think she can see me as an adult as well now, still her mother, but also a woman, a person. 

The best part of the weekend was having all three of my children together.  Katie loves her siblings and her siblings are now old enough to understand how difficult and simple life can be for Katie.  The jealousy I think they both felt because of how much of my time Katie demanded has gone.  What they see now is how vulnerable Katie is and how strong she is as well. 

I am thankful for all of my children.