|Willow (the_willow) wrote,|
@ 2012-05-13 03:00:00
It's mother's day. It's arse o'clock in the morning, but it's still mother's day. And I survived other mother's day by thinking of all the amazing mothers I know; Karnythia, Kita06, Zvi's Mum & Aunt. But my mother called me yesterday to remind me today's mother day and to demand a gift. Or as I like to think of it; tribute.
I haven't bought a gift for my mother for mother's day, for more than 10+ years. I think at some point in the last couple of years I might have managed to send her a card. Maybe. Usually I treat myself to something special and either leave the house and relax in a bookstar and buy something, or go out to lunch or something. I care for me on mother's day; care for the aspects of myself that desperately needed mothering and never got it. I have a lot of thoughts on that, all wrapped up together - sparked by conversations I've observed online about black mothers protecting their children and being care-givers but not necessarily being able to the tenderness perhaps desired because of their own traumas, because of the battles they were facing; intergenerational trauma compounded. I know I love my mother (can't help it), while respecting and loathing her at the same time. And it's all complex and spun around involving the ways in which she did stand up for me, have my back and push me and the ways in which she utterly failed me, refused to see me and physically and emotionally damaged me.
And, this year, she wants tribute. And this year it's the first time in a long time, the very thought of it being mother's day makes it hard to breathe. There's this skin crawling, scratch inducing heavy weight - just from those simple words. And her 'assurance' that it's the 'thought that counts'. But y'know, I have until next week for something to arrive in the mail.
And I hate it. I hate it. And I know, I know I could just ignore it. Ignore her. Call her, hold my breath and never send 'tribute'. But then what happens? She's still a node to cross to interact with my siblings. And I made the decision to keep dealing with her for access to them.
But I hate this... mode. This frantic running around like a headless, self-harming chicken trying to think of what could 'please her' and thus allow me to live (emotinally) for another year. I've only fucking well just worked up to bying her Christmas and Birthday gifts again. Just last effing year. And now this? That was my mistake, wasn't it? Buying her a gift, setting up expectations. And now. Now this - horror.
And this after a day where I ended up doing phone call running around, because ven though we both have issues dealing w/ people on the phone. Somehow... 'can you do this for me', and me doing it - isn't a 'gift'. It's 'daughter responsibility' / 'sister responsibility'. And fuck. I hate that such seemingly little things, aren't. Aren't little. There are boundary pushing and self harm activating and make me want to eat charcoal and vomit for hours.
ETA: Tribute Purchased. My brother needs go get to college in Sept. I can't fuck this up.