Everyday she would get these fleeting flashes of what she believed she was becoming. The sacrificing mother, the one who could’ve done this or been that, an immense amount of … Continue reading Hysterical Blindness
Tag: nonfiction
Dearest Me
She knew what she was doing and knew what she did. Bella knew this would happen and she honestly Fucken thought she could endure like always. Let herself believe that … Continue reading Dearest Me
Maybe
It was the need for him to acknowledge her. To look at her, address her. Anything. She clawed for that Maybe. “maybe” he would look at her and she would … Continue reading Maybe
Dark Waters and Endless Fires
She just felt so fucking unheard. As the old saying goes “her words fell on deaf ears”. It was as though she was screaming under water. The depths were thick … Continue reading Dark Waters and Endless Fires
The Wall
It wasn’t that she didn’t clean, it wasn’t that she couldn’t clean. Normally she had a pristine and tidy home. Those feelings though… She knew what they were, even if … Continue reading The Wall
21 Days Til the Sun Died
She carried The Suicide book with her everywhere. That little purple burden. It was both heavy and light. The place where the darkest and saddest parts of her rested. Bella … Continue reading 21 Days Til the Sun Died
Come and Go
One day long ago she watched her heart walk away under a trilby hat.
Bella didn’t know that when he walked away. She didn’t know that was the last hug, the last kiss, the Last picture to be taken.
The last laugh.
The last time she would hear his voice.
Somedays she was not sure who left who. Those are the happier days. On the days where the sun hides behind the clouds, or near certain dates she felt more she left him. Bella ghosted away and hoped that the feeling would fade and with time the memory would become more of just that. A memory, dulled with time.
It still feels new, she can remember it like it happened last week. It’s always fresh and too new and every time if she dare to seek it, she can find where there is a spot empty in her soul. The piece that she gave Mr Trilby, the toymaker, that he kept.
It’s a different kind of empty. Bella knows she will never be whole and nothing will ever fill that space. She may well be forever incomplete.
And also, with him taken, another string in the disentanglement of Bella and Linus
Somethings Are Better said with the lights out
There’s something to be said about the battles Bella had fought. The years spent in humbling realness doing all she could to keep herself from starvation and homelessness. There’s something to be said about the people who stood by and watched it happen. But she wasn’t about to say anything, she did the “adult” thing, she cut them out accordingly. Using whichever method got the job done best for that particular situation. Some were easy some were tough. Sometimes time did the job for her, others, she had to say those cutting but true things,
Bella had worked hard to survive so she had to ask herself, “How the fuck did I end up here… again?”
This thought made her ponder dark thoughts. Was she the problem? Well yes, to some extent. Was she the reason for the misery around her? Again, a little perhaps.
She sat there staring blankly as her mind, somewhere else, put the pieces together. Everyone around her over time seemed to get over her, feel a strong desire to be free of her. She felt like a heavy burden. She sat there, she thought more on how she could fix this mess she found herself. She could only come up with one not so clean, but at least tidy solution.
There’s something to be said in regaining control of one’s life, no matter how dark or permanent.
With that comforting notion, she wrote another letter. The ink from her pen wrote away yet another string in the disentaglement of Bella and Linus
Mother Dearest
I was 14 years old when I learned that it was actually the norm to not just love your mother but like her, adore her, have her treat you like you are indeed a person.
I was 16 when I learned that it was common for her to be a close confidant and respected person in ones life.
My most prominent memories of my mother are of resentment and her treating me like an object she owned and her servant. And for a long time I thought that’s how it was supposed to be. No one in my family ever said different and I just never brought it up to my friends.
The crazy part is, I found a picture today of myself as 5 year old girl with my mother and I remember it wasn’t like that at all. But I can’t recall when or how it changed.
I know I changed when she made me reloacte to small town hell and I know she changed when she saw my I unhappiness coupled with her preexisting depression and her troubles conceiving a baby after myself and my brother. Truth be told most who know me know I don’t care for my mother and it would appear that I never have. She was a shitty person. And she did shitty things to me and my brother and dad and she didn’t care.
She died two years ago. I wasn’t very cut up about it.
At first
A month ago I dreamt of her. I was in a community hall back home and it was dimly lit. And sitting around a circular table were all the versions of my mother I’ve seen throughout our life. I was a little weary hahaha! But I sat I wanted to speak to her. And that’s when I realized after this long Fucken internal battle with myself over our life and what she did to me and how I treated her because of it that I felt as though I should be nicer because I love her but at the same time she failed hard as a mother and I just couldn’t ever treat her the way she thought I should.
I have always loved my mom. But fuck me if I didn’t Fucken loathe her. But 20 years ago I not only loved her I trusted her and felt safe and protected when I was with her. I knew she would kick a baby to save my life. She was this bright, active, caring, intelligent, nurturing woman. She took care of us and she gave a shit. My mom who I had until I was 11 is my mom. I love her and I lost her the winter I was 11. But every now and then I would get glimpses of her as an adult. And I was on that shit like white on rice. I spent every moment she was like that with her.
My mother was an amazing woman who was too self conscious to see what she was capable of. And her mental illness won the war after a hard year in our family.
Trust me I am not making excuses for her. She shit the bed hard and failed my brother and myself in the most Fucken epic hurtful ways. She was a cunt for the last 15 years and I made sure she knew I felt that way.
But back to the dream. I told her that the version in the tye dye with the long hair was my favorite her. She was the mom I remember when I think of the happy. I didn’t like who she turned into. She gave up and took it out on us. Among other crap.
But I told her she was my favorite version of her and I’m sorry but I hated the others. They betrayed me and stole from me and spread lies and cost us a family member becasue she became a selfish coward and she told me she already knew that and it was ok. She hugged me and we smiled and the dream ended as abruptly as it started.
And I don’t expect anyone to hop on my theory boat here. But I only dream of people when I truly deep down miss them or need them and I believe it’s really them just because of how I feel when it’s over and the way the dream plays out.
And I truly miss her. I have always loved my mother. The mom that was there when I was little is the reason I kept coming back and I helped take of her when she was sick. Why I ever stopped my kids from seeing her, why despite the shitty person she was I never totally walked away from her. That part of me just couldn’t let her go.
Fuck I fought myself for years overnt because I didn’t understand it. But I’ve been thinking about her a lot and I saw the picture today and it just hit me.
My mom was a great Fucken lady when she cared about herself and others. But life happens and it turned her into a whiny greedy manipulative bitch.
I loved her everyday even when she sucker as a human because she really was wonderful. I just wish she’d never given up.
Shit happens and people are people and sometimes we change our minds.
Well remember this is Mz.R.E forever teaching you how to not live your life.
Oh and remember children, love your mother. But you don’t have to like her. At all. Ever.
The Misadventures of the Late Mz. R.E. 