December 2020, something…

“What the fuck is this?” I flipped the envelope back and forth. I instantly recognized the handwriting. My mother’s handwriting.

My once shattered heart exploded in my brain at full force. All the memories hit me at once. The memories I’ve been trying to ignore. The memories that remind me of why I love my mother.

I really just missed you on this day, mom. With my 30th birthday approaching, I remember the particular moments of laughter about where we would be when I turned 30. And oh how we would celebrate.

Never in a million moments did I ever believe that I would be celebrating without my mother. Without her presence. And if she just so happened to pass, I believe this feeling wouldn’t be so intense. But my once best friend, however, lurks in the shadows. And those shadows love to taunt me from time to time. Especially in these particular millstone moments. At least on my 21st birthday, you still were present in my life.

But that is a story for a different day.

It’s quite sad, even after all these years my heart still aches for you. But my hazel eyes have come to realize that pain of you, your memory, will never leave my once shattered heart.

And for me, on moments like this, where I always believed you would be here, my heart’s emotions overtake and remind my pulse of our once shattered relationship.

Triggers, memories, and flashbacks arrive trying to wake up my lovely, lovely voice Her.

Her hasn’t made her presence known for quite some time now. For those that don’t remember who Her might be, she is the side of myself that loves to remind me of all my past mistakes.

Her is who I use to be.

And I vow never to be Her. Hence the name.

But from time to time, she makes her presence known, and fuck is it hard to overlook that freckled face.

That girl was broken.

Beyond broken actually.

And with Her, hiding so silently, waiting for the perfect moment. My clammy, shaking, pale hand decided to impulsively open the envelope from my mother.

I wish I would have just thought about it. Just even for a few seconds really.

But I know all, right?

But that mistake is a story for a different day…

After I sliced open the envelope, I closed my gloomy, hazel eyes, took a much-needed deep, deep breath.

And at that moment when I allowed the breath to overtake, my body decide to allow the butterflies of hope to enter my universe.

I’ve learned over time, just sometimes, very rarely, hope can blind you. Just like love.

And this was one of those unfortunate, blinding moments.

As I opened my freckled, hopeful, hazel eyes, I slowly opened the card.

Hope kept rushing through my universe. I just felt as if this would be the moment of change. I felt a change coming. I felt it throughout my bones. I so desperately hoped for some change in my dull, dull life. And hope convinced me that this would be this moment.

I mean my 30th birthday was approaching. So I of course was contemplating my entire world. Like who doesn’t from time to time?

But this particular moment was not the change that would soon be arriving.

That moment did happen. I just had to learn those harsh lessons along the way, of course. But again a story for a different day…

An, I love you so much Brit. I am so sorry. That simple phrase would have been wonderful to see on my 30th birthday card…

But once again, my bleeding heart as people like to say, blinded the reality of the situation.

My mother did what she always does. Money. Well, a gift card, but same concept.

But anyway, that’s how my family says I love you. I wish my entire family would realize money doesn’t dictate happiness.

Money is truly the root of all evil. And for some strange reason, an object has so much control over the emotions of us, humans.

An object cannot bring love.

My Mother’s presence would be love. My Mother’s compassion would be love…

All I wanted on this very day was just a simple phrase, really. A truly, simple phrase.

“Brit, I am sorry.” Would have done wonders to my hopeful heart.

Who knows what my bleeding heart would have done…

I just wanted my mother to care. To care for me. And once again my foolish self was reminded of why I’ve decided to turn my back on my family. But mostly her. It took a year of fucking up my life to finally realize that my happiness truly means more than anyone. Including family.

I am still amazed that I’ve never, not once, contacted my mother. I have my moments of weakness. Like this very moment right here.

But moments like this remind me why I chose to walk away. Instead of dwelling on the fact that my family is basically pieces of shit, to say the least. I remind myself like I’ve done many times before, I will only grieve my mother once. I will only grieve my family once.

It’s just quite a strange situation in particular moments with a mother who truly lurks in the shadows.

I have my very own living ghost.

But fuck, moments of weakness happen. And I refuse to punish myself for feeling. Even if it’s a little too much. Numbness to me, is more terrifying than feeling just a tad over the top. I wouldn’t wish numbness on my worst enemy.

I just need to be aware. Aware of what is happening. Aware that my feelings may be blinding my soul. And ground myself back to my universe.

And I thank the universe above, for the harsh moment of pain. I needed to be reminded. Reminded why hope is not always truthful. And I need to listen to my intuition. Listen to my body. My very own universe.

Hence this time back in December, my universe reminded me once more that my mother will never change.

And in a fucked up way I am thankful my mother will never change, or I would not live the life of complete bliss I’ve enjoyed over this last year.

But again, that is a story for a different day.