I was trying to figure out exactly what it was I was angry about for all these years and it took my 12 yr old to give me that light bulb moment. Ah therapy, it never ends. I've spent a long time preventing myself from trusting those I let get close to me under the assumption that it's me being realistic. Uh huh. Yeah. Then when the outcome was a negative one I'd be upset. Okay. I'd be pissed but mostly at myself not them. That part of me would be yelling in my head "Yeah, you just have to be such a damn optimist, eh?! Hope, hope, hope! Eh?!"
Back to the 12 yr old. I didn't realise my 12 yr old had "expectations" of me. From the very beginning I've never, or I believe I've never, acted any differently. Don't you get the feeling sometimes that kids expect some fairytale mythical parent? Like the Huxtables, June Cleaver or Mr & Mrs. Brady? Then they come home, look at you and just droop with disappointment? I recently wanted to tell the old 12 yr old that she wasn't what I expected either, that's why I just let her be who she was from the beginning. I mean, really! Do you think a tomboy would expect to give birth to one of the girliest (is that even a word?) of girls?
My 12 yr old even took it to trying to say that the 3 yr old got more hugs than her. Hello!? Uh, when you were 8 or 9 you demanded I never do that in public!? Squirmed away as fast as you could because you were busy? Where the heck did this kid's memory go? How come I remember this and she doesn't? None of that stuff was important to her back then. School started, she discovered friends and I stepped back and let her have her space. I never went anywhere.
It's not that I don't like my hair or to dress up, I can clean up pretty good. It's more that it's not, and never has been, in my top most important things in life; unless there's a job interview involved. HA! So, when the 12 yr old looked at me, just drooping in disappointment that I'm not like the "other moms" who are always fanatically shopping for Halloween (the holiday I always forget) or new designer duds, I'll admit that I wanted to lob my protein bar at her.
That's when I had my AHA moment. In the middle of my mild case of resentment that my own kid wanted me to be someone else, I realised that was the way I felt about my mum. I also had a fairytale version of her all scripted out and she never acted, or reacted, the way I believed she would. Think June Cleaver vs some 60s party animal. I spent most of my life simply horrified. It took me 28 years to realise I'm disappointed. It's amazingly hilarious. One of those "Aren't we stupid!?" moments. Really, aren't we? Isn't it just the stupidest thing you have ever heard?
Thirty-two years of frustration, resentment and angst on both our parts all because we couldn't accept who was right in front of us. It's sad. What's even sadder? I've kept lots of people at arms length with this conditioned disappointment. Hope. Disappointment. Everyone was "just like her". Never who I expected. Well, the good thing is that I finally kicked my self in the ass and said life isn't about only me. If I want to be accepted, I have to not only accept myself; I have to accept others as they are.
Since that mystery of why I was really angry at my mum was cleared up it's amazing how you see situations differently. All the struggles between us. Neither one of us wanting to change yet demanding that the other did and conform to our vision. The inability to cope with the reality of who the other was. Her verbal, mental and physical abuse of us. That's how she coped with it. Our rebellion, resentment, anger and the sibling resentment. Now therapy sessions. Well, pseudo therapy since I'm doing this on my own. After all, therapy is being totally honest with yourself.

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