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solstice: Sigh Mere | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #935 ›bio: kristen ›perma-link ›7/13/2026 ›18:24 ›archives ›first post ›that week
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and I don't know what it is mother, but I'm writing it out to see if I can maybe stumble upon it. when I lived in Oakland, I remember being so very very very very very sad and the saddest thing I could think of was if you died, and the last person forced to pretend to care about me is gone. it used to tear me up. it's what made me think I loved you. and then, during covid, when we all had more time - except the nurses/healthcare - I went to therapy for one reason - I wanted to be able to walk into your house and not be terrified - not be making myself up in the car to put on the right makeup - not worry that there might be a spot on my outfit or my hair god it's always messy. I wanted to be able to walk into your home and have you accept me - be happy to see me - not that tension - that acting - that feeling that I've violated your space. I'm so hypervigilent and you were my first project. I probably studied you more than all the rest of them combined. I think so much of my defense mechanisms are you. and then now, it's weird. I "love" you, but Jesus fucking christ living in your world - it was brutal. you know I just stayed in my room. I didn't enjoy hanging out with you because your only interaction with me was criticizing me. I mean, I'm sure there's a lot to criticize and all parents do; but it was the you you you show. my job was to try to be pretty and shut the fuck up. as you know, I'm not great at shutting up or being pretty. I wasn't like your other daughter. I wanted to be wild. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to figure out what I was. so, you taught me how to be an excellent actress. I remember thinking you were so fucking dumb. I remember thinking that I could talk you into anything. and then when the shit with your first husband happened, yeah well that sucked. and then all of it was shunted onto my husbands. you took no responsibility for it - they had to clean up the shit mess from a daughter always called "too sensitive" and "if only you would..." and sure, I'm whining. I whine. I wanted someone to see me. you're always good for that shit like "oh well at least you only have one broken leg instead of two." could you ever just say "god that must have sucked, I'm so sorry." and then when he called you a narcissist from meeting you for five seconds, god knows I loved that. finally, someone could see. when he called my brother and sister more like an aunt and uncle to me - I was like finally someone can see. and you know what I blame you for, and it's not your fault but I can't get it out of my head. you started telling me that my relationship with Leon was broken - that he didn't like me because he didn't invite me to see his friends or meet his sons. and sure. Leon totally dumped me and didn't like me and blah blah blah I was intense and too much or whatever the fuck the fucker thought but I loved him. he made me feel less alone. and I have felt alone so much. sitting in that room - playing with my dolls, coloring, reading - just being out of your way. and I understand. I don't think I could be a mother either. in fact, that's the weird thing - I know you know shit about me - but there was this theory I always tell people about that children attempt to live the unloved life of their same sex parent. for you, I didn't have kids. I fucking hated you for choosing Terry over me. I hated you for always being in a plexiglass cage where I could never reach you. I hated you for never hugging me. but you're what I have. when you die - if you do before me - I'll probably be sad as shit - especially since you said you're not leaving me any money and the man you chose to marry is allowed to call us "your fucking kids" without censure. and I get it. survival has always meant a man. one of the stupid ass reasons I married Andrew was this planted in my head "your mother worries that there won't be anyone to take care of you" and I though oh fuck, I'm someone that needs taking care of, and sure I'm a fucking mess. I try to anticipate your thoughts of me to survive even when you're no where. maybe some day it will come of use. god knows I tried so very very very very very very very very very hard to be a good daughter, but I think I'm done you get what you get. if you throw me out of the charity house for my impertinence well I'm glad you didn't get any help from your parents (and shit, we know you did) and I'm sorry for the defective wiring in me that makes me care and feel all the shit. I'm sorry I didn't become a great writer. I'm sorry I didn't become an actress. I'm sorry I didn't become a wife. I'm fucking sorry. and I'm not going to look for you to love me and I don't have any other external things to look to. so there and I'll kill myself before I kill these fucking cats I hate. you should understand that. this life you were so proud of giving me, well it's been rather shit and I know I'm so so so so so lucky but goddammit do you not realize how much I had to figure out all by myself incorrectly and how much I was like "not that" about everything I saw. anyway. none of this matters. I'm just spewing. but I like to think that my daughter is lucky I never had her. I would have had no clue what to do. but goddammit I would have tried like fucking hell to do one one one thing care and actually imagine what she might be thinking and feeling. I might even go overboard on it - as you do. and thanks for the survival. thanks for the lights not going out. thanks for letting me fulfill your dream of graduating from uga. thanks for all the money. if I could have done anything in my life - but I've given up now - it would be to get through that fucking mask and have you be fucking real with me. but I guess there's not enough ecstasy and I sure as shit don't know how to even score pot without comprising everything I held true about love. he didn't love me. but goddammit it would have been great to love me. here I go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for myself. I'm sorry that I tried so hard, and it got me nothing. my sister once asked why I didn't know how to keep Leon when I had learned from the best - you. I didn't really know what she meant. I only knew that you cried and cried when he was leaving, you were gone all the time dating when he was gone and then you appeared a week after getting married and told me you were married - not before - after the fact. but you had told my sister. I guess it's weird being the youngest. I was taught to always get my real satisfaction alone and that the rest was performing. it sucked. big time. you taught me to act. you taught me that there's a tiny place inside you that is real and you only sometimes give it to lovers/spouses. and ireland. I'm wearing a t-shirt I got for there. it says "totally lucky" and everyone will say how lucky I was to have you - how kind and cool you were. and that's what's so frustrating. you were. maybe I was just an extension of you and that's why you were so hard on me - because I doubt there could be a human less like you: I write. I think. I ponder immensely what people are thinking. I anticipate. I'm messy. I suck at ironing. did you know that I don't even know how to handle my period. usually people are taught it by their mom. when I got mine, I thought something was wrong with me. luckily, I was with my grandmother - your mother - who must have been kind of a cunt - bless her heart - if she could have made you so hidden and gone. but maybe it was all daddy because I was too young with my grandmother got dementia and pretty much died inside her body, but she was the only safe adult I knew. everyone talks - well Leon did - about how immature I am....and I'm like well fuck I don't even know any mature adults. look at my family. and he did and he ran. the only one he liked was the rich one. and she's so cool, but my brother is cool too. thanks for trying. whenever I used to try to bring up shit from the past to see if I could finally be witnessed by the only witness who mattered, you're always on about "I bet you think I'm a terrible mother" and I always protest like my lines read, but sure you kind of sucked. you did the think that hurts kids the most: you didn't care about what they were going through - or if you did - do you really think that five schools in four grades is a healthy thing for a kid? really? did you really think that I just sat in my room and figured it all out by myself. I still have no idea. I know you didn't lose me Leon. and I know nothing is your fault, but god you sucked in so many ways. you remind me of him a little - so fucking distant but so close - so almost. I'm sorry I disappointed you, but welcome to the club. stop acting so fake. maybe there's time but the only reason would be to please me, and god knows that's not your m.o. tell Terry hi. it was ridiculous to see you at 87 years old acting like a teenager following me out when I was taking the trash out and showing me he texted you. my god I fucking understood but do you have any idea how oh my god it was for me? I'll try to explain. I was like "mother fucking god on fucking hell fucking shit. this is where I got the programming from: GET A MAN AT ALL COSTS and keep him." well, no man wants me or the ones who want me I don't want and I'm a weird weird package and I'm not going to just marry that 78-year old $100 millionaire just because I can. I'm going to either die of my own hand or some cancer or a car wreck or something or I'm going to try. I'll never give up. my gift to you is to love myself even though I have no idea how. and I know you don't like emotion and you'll tell me to join something or 'just lose weight' or "fix my hair" and those are all valid valid points. but goddammit (and I hardly ever say that but we're so steeped in hypocritical religion it fits) love me please. aren't you supposed to?
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