My mom has always been my best friend. Most people see/hear that and say “oh that’s so sweet”, without discovering the downfall. Think. Best friends tell EACH OTHER everything. While it is great to have my Mom as a confidant to talk to, it is NOT so great to be my Mom’s confidante. I don’t believe children should have to hear about their parents complaint about the other spouse, or their siblings. Am I wrong? It is the parents job to listen, to help solve problems. I am not saying I have issues listening to my mother, only saying I think there is a definite line of where that should stop.
My Mom has recently developed a drinking problem. Maybe not so recently, I am not sure, I haven’t lived at home for four years; but recently is when I have become aware. I think there are different kinds of drinking problems. She doesn’t necessarily have an addiction, she can go without drinking, but when she does… she is hateful.
Normally my mother and I talk multiple times in the day. Last week, drunk, she screamed at me and told me not to call her until she got home from her trip. She went to visit family and came back today. The last time I talked to her was a week ago today. That is so bizarre to me. I know I am in my twenties and completely self sufficient, however I miss her. I didn’t realize just how dependent I became on her. This is the longest we haven’t talked. I am waiting until she calls me. I just hope I don’t have to wait too long. I miss my mom.
Our family cat will be put to sleep at 4:30pm today. I haven’t lived with her for almost 4 years, since I moved out of my parents home, but I miss her just the same. We got Angel, our siamese, when I was 9. I remember wanting a kitten so bad. Everytime Mom and Dad would leave I would be hoping they would come home with one, I would run out to the garage door opening with high hopes. I remember going to get Angel. We went in our family’s Volvo Station wagon that was a reddish/maroon with tan leather interior. A lady had two siamese kittens in a cage, a boy and a girl, we wanted the girl. As we left it started to rain and I remember my mom putting the kitten under her jacket. I also have a fond memory of Angel pushing her little head out from beneath the jacket. One of my favorite pictures is of my mom rocking my little sister to sleep, and a tiny little Angel sleeping in the crook of her arm. I used to pick her up and take her to my room to lay with me on my New Kids on the Block sleeping bag. She wasn’ t always the friendliest, but she was incredibly loyal. Angel always wanted to go outside and would seek out opportunities. I have no idea how many times the neighbors called us to ask if that was Angel in the bushes outside. I remember once I was going to get the mail and I walked out front, and there was Angel, outside sitting on the porch and she just meowed out me. Out, but came back, victorious. As we got dogs, she got older, and resentful of said dogs, understandably so. She became my brother Trevor’s cat. When Trevor would not be home you cuuld hear her howling looking for him. I think Trevor will miss Angel the most. She is down to 2.5 pounds, skin and bones, not eating and hardly walking, it’s her time. Selfishly I wish it wasn’t. It’s just not the end of a beloved family pet, it’s the end of an era in my family that I enjoyed and cherished. That cat has a ton of memories attached to her, 17 years worth. We love you Angel.
Does it take to get a comment around here? Yeesh.
There are multiple forums to blog in. I don’t know about others, but I myself use them to make a point – usually to one or two “friends” that can read that blog. However, the fault lies in the lack of anonymity. They always know you wrote it – they can always quote you, exploit you, or worse, belittle you. So I am choosing a place of safe harbor. A home that is mine for my thoughts that no one can use against me. This is me – bare – emotional - raw. Maybe no one will ever read it, that’s OK – I’ll write it. I believe everyone has something amazing to say, there may only be ONE person out there that agrees. One person who hears or reads the voice of another and says “YES – that is what I have been thinking”. That is enough. Even if that person is the writer. If I am the only one that relates, so be it. I would rather relate to myself than anyone else out there. If you can’t relate to yourself, you are merely an observer, a shadow, a distant memory. So here is to relating to ones self.
