Woke up a few mornings ago with this idea: Just because my mom didn’t protect me the way I wanted her to doesn’t mean she didn’t protect me. I wanted it to look a certain way – belief in my complaint, righteous anger toward The Exes, clear cut hierarchy that
Yesterday a friend said something that struck me as amazing: “I was surprised to find my relationship with my mother didn’t end when she died. In fact, it continued to grow for years after. Actually, our relationship is much better now than when she was alive.” This is not something
I spent a few days with Little and her new baby. Little is 8 and 1/2 years younger than I am. Plus, I left home when I was 14 and she, 5ish. So although I love her like crazy, our relationship has always been weird. We are kind of like
Looonnnnnnnnnggggg time readers will remember that shortly after the birth of my second child, my parents moved across country to live near me and help me get back on my feet. I had combo PPD/medical malady requiring surgeries. My mother called it my ‘come-apart.’ (I’m pretty sure this is a
— Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiigggggggggggggggggggger warning — — Long ass post alert– In the spirit of getting back to my roots and telling you stuff I’m embarrassed to say in real life (I guess this is like the Halloween edition): I’m starting to believe the emotional fall-out from the fight with my mom