I still cry about my mom but no one really knows

I’m honestly nervous to post this. I have never opened up this much in a blog post. This goes relatively deep into my wounds, I shed a lot of tearing pushing through these paragraphs. Thank you for wanting to read my story and I hope someone who can relate will find comfort in my words.

When I was, maybe 4 or 5, I had a repetitive dream. In this dream, my brother and I were playing in this immense building that was full of semi trucks. A huge garage lined with semi trucks. As we were running we found a bomb. We saw that the bomb had very little time until it would explode, so we took. We ran as fast as we could and pushed the back doors to the building open, ran up a tall hill covered in bright green grass and we laid on our stomachs, ready to watch the building explode. We were so excited, giggling and getting comfortable with our heads being propped up by our elbows. We started to count down together and then we saw our mom. She seemed to be injured because she was limping very slowly out of the back doors of the garage. My brother started screaming for her to run and hurry. I kept counting, fearing to make my way from ten to one. The building exploded and the flames swallowed her whole. I couldn’t see my mom anymore. I knew she was dead.

This dream still fucking haunts me to this day. I remember the first time that I had it, I just out of bed, ran into my parents room and snugged right up next to her. It terrified me to think of losing the woman I loved so much. She was God to me. Now that I am an adult, the dream kind of pisses me off. The best way that I can explain it is that I wanted the dream to be wrong. I never wanted to actually feel the loss of my mother.

I don’t always “feel” the loss of my mother. Sometimes I don’t even know how I’ve get here. How did my mom slip into my thoughts? My thoughts become so saturated and heavy that I almost want to explode. Some times I hide it by crying in the shower. It doesn’t make me feel as guilty, almost as if the water is washing my thoughts away before they stick to my skin.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think about her constantly or dwell on everything that happened by any means. But sometimes something will cause her to cross my mind. I mean, she’s my mom, I’ll always wish I had what never was.

I have an older brother. It infuriates me to even say this but he was a little less fortunate than me. My father’s mother took custody of me and he was left with our cracked out mother living in her drug dealer’s house. Why didn’t anyone take him? I was 12 or 13 so I understood but I didn’t understand the full picture. There was no one biologically that could take my brother. My mom wouldn’t let them. Bullshit. Someone should have went to court and fought for him. He was worth fighting for.

So many things went wrong for me growing up. I lost contact with my brother. I’d talk to him every few years.

My first car was an old Chevy Lumina. I hadn’t really talked to my brother but I knew he didn’t have a car so when I turned 18 I bought a Pontiac Alero. I called my brother that he could have it free of charge, I wanted him to have something to drive. He was beyond grateful. Before I drove it over and dropped it off, I stuck a 20 dollar bill in the ash tray with a note that said, “If you ever need a little extra gas.” I never really was able to stay in contact much after that. I spent a few years begging for him to be apart of mine and the kids family but he wasn’t ready. The sting was still running deep for him. I saw him for the first time in about 4 years on my daughter’s 5th birthday. She will be 6 in March so we are coming up on a year of consistent contact. I married my husband last August and my brother was there to witness it. I finally got to ask him if he ever found that 20 dollar bill in that ash tray.

My brother and I have not talked too much about my mom. He did have a few drinks one night and open up a lot about how there are still demons trying to haunt him. As he explained how he had and had felt and the aftermaths of it, I could completely relate. I, too, struggled the same way he has. It made me feel a little less crazy. That’s the thing about siblings, they are usually the only ones who can exactly relate to the growing pains of childhood. You go through everything together.

What my brother and I went through shaped us a lot.

I use it as my drive to be an amazing mother. I’m by no means perfect but I know I try my hardest to be everything for my kids and that makes these years the best years of my life. They are the first solid family that I have ever had, the first people to make me feel like the most important thing in the world. They unconditionally love me so much, I could never leave them or lose them. I am going to be such a happy memory of each of their childhoods and I am so proud of that. They will bring my grandchildren over on holidays. My daughter will call when she needs help cooking something. My son will call to tell me about his new career offer. They will be by my side when I take my last breath. My mother had a rough childhood that she passed on to me but the cycle stops here.

I have a hard time getting close to people. I keep everyone at arms length because I feel that everyone will only let me down or maybe I don’t really belong. It’s really difficult to really explain this one. A part of me almost feels that something must be different about me because the one person design to love me no matter what, chose drugs over me. Am I that worthless? I know that I’m not but I struggle with this. I so badly want to feel like I matter to someone other than my kids but I don’t want to let anyone to close to me either. My husband and I struggle with this, neither of us being at fault. I am a romantic, poet type of lover and he is more prim and proper, no PDA type of lover. Which is fine. I have learned that the way I need loves isn’t the same way he needs loved. I want him to occasionally remind me that I so blessed. He’s absolutely wonderful but no one is perfect. And I’m sure my extra emotional baggage can feel heavy sometimes. But him and my children fix me, I need that from him.

I am very compassionate. My brother actually told me quote from a physiatrist at a university. It was along the lines of saying to have true compassion for others and the world, you have to know that there are bad things out there. Some things that I witnessed with my mother, I will take to my grave because talking about them are not worth remembering the pain. I’ve witnessed the demons that can take over a family, I’ve stood face to face with it. And once it touches you, the scent never leaves your skin. I don’t wish my pain on anyone and I wish I could take away all of the pain in the world. I know darkness, therefore, I try as hard as I can to be the light.

Those are probably the biggest things that result from my childhood. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to forget everything. It’s just so painful to not have a mom. I feel empty in some places. I do feel with time I will accept these empty spaces, I just don’t think I’ll ever fully understand.

When my mother was about 32 or 33, not long after my grandmother took custody of me, my mother had a few medical problems. She was in prison and she had a stroke. She fell and hit her head and that set off a brain aneurysm. She loss her short term memory. I remember my grandma telling me about what happen and then taking me to see her. Half of her head was shaved and she had staples in her head. Every 10 minuets or so she would say, “So, Erica, what have you been doing?!” At first I didn’t understand and I would repeat myself to her and then I gave up. She was gone for good this time. It was excruciating to watch the mother who was once everything to me, disappear.

My mother is still very much alive but I have no contact with her. I don’t know her and she can’t remember much. I’ll never be able to get her point of view to try to understand why she became who she was. It is as if she is dead to me, the mother I once had it anyways.

And that shit hurts.

I have worked really hard on these set backs to use them as my motivation but I accept that I will probably just never be whole. And maybe that’s okay because I love very deeply and I fight really hard for what I believe in.

New Years Resolutions, 2k18

Happy New Year, Everyone!!! We are already on day three of 2018. It’s already been a blur.

When I think of New Years I think of resolutions. Obviously, the every day stress will follow me from 2017 and 2018. But resolutions are a great way to reflect on the downsides of the previous year and the high times of the previous year. I can’t control everything but I can control who I am and how I react to the uncontrollably. Each year I like to reflect and revaluate what I want to accomplish, regardless of what it is.

Basically, resolutions are great. They give us a sense of a fresh start and fresh starting points. Every goal has a starting point and various ending points. They can not always be defined in a year. Reflection helps give those resolutions a bigger purpose. Progress is what matters.

I have my obvious resolutions such as eat healthier, work out more, get more sleep (never gonna happen). But I have a lot more passionate ones that I put a lot more thought into.

Here they are.

Be a better mother. This is one that I don’t think will ever leave the list. I am confident when I say that I’m a great mom but I’m not sure I’ll ever be good enough for my kids. Each year I hope to give them just a little more patience and a lot more love than I did the year before. My goal is to raise compassionate, intelligent adults. I want them to be the good in the world but I also want them to know reality and discipline. It’s a lot of pressure from one year to the next.

Change the world. This is another one that I think will be on her for awhile. I, obviously, want to continue to be kind and compassionate. I want to always find a way to be a positive moment in every ones day. Each year I want to find a way to contribute a little more to making this world a better place. I am not naïve enough to think I can single handily change the whole planet but I do believe I can make a small difference in someone’s life which in turn could change their own outlook of the world.

Be a better person in general. I know that my body is a lot smaller than the size of my heart. All of my intentions are good and my selflessness is endless but I do struggle with becoming detached from people and basically going MIA. I have an undying need for space and to keep to myself. It sounds harmless, but I have some very important people who deserve to hear from me on almost an every day basis. I try each year to improve this and give the people I love what they deserve.

Be a good wife. I was just married in August 2017 so this is a fresh one to my list. I am taking being a wife very seriously, I’m very old school romantic so I except myself to tend to my husband a lot. Ironically, my husband expects nothing from me but always appreciates everything I do. That is just an added bonus and motivates me more to be everything for my husband.

Be true to myself. I have struggled with this one for a very long time but I do feel that I’m getting better. It’s not that I ever tried to be someone that I wasn’t but I often will sacrifice my own happiness and energy to make someone else happy. The older that I get, the more I value how I spend my time and invest my energy in. Life is too short to be anything but unhappy. With that being said, it makes me VERY happy to make other people happy. I’ll always be a giver but I am finding that it’s okay to give back to myself sometimes.

Be a writer. I remember writing a book report in the fourth grade about, The Black Stallion by Walter Farley. I was excited to read the book and I was excited to write about it. I remember taking time to really craft my openings so I knew who ever read this would want to read more. I turned it into my teacher and she was blow away at my use of words and how I wrote. That started it for me. I fell head over heels in love with writing. All through school and college I had teachers compliment my writing in some way. I loved every English class and always looked forward to them. At a very young age I started keeping notebooks with poems and songs written in them. I had notebooks with pages full of my writing. Whichever notebook I was currently writing in, always came with me. I’d have a burst of inspiration and I’d start writing no matter where I was. I never fully believed in myself though. I didn’t see it as something I could be successful at. And then one day I thought, “why not?” My dream is to write children’s book and eventually a few fiction novels. I hope to one day publish a book that keeps being read long after I am gone. To know my words could leave an impression on so many people for so many years to come gives me all of the feels. That is my dream. Will that goal be reached in 2018? Probably not but by the end of the year, I will have made PROGRESS. Each year it becomes more important to me.

I’m always so disappoint when I see people talk negatively about resolutions. Sometimes it takes people a few times of trying before they gather their strength to truly commit. Be support and kind to people. As the saying goes, fall down seven and stand up eight.

To all of my readers, I hope you find inspiration from me in some way from reading my post. It’s New Year. If you want a new you, go for it! Maybe you won’t crush your goals this year but you will be a little closer to crushing it.

XOXO