...sometimes moms have a way...

Most of you remember last September when my mom had her plane ticket, days off work and was going to fly up to see Aidan and me... except that she didn't actually have the ticket or the days off, so she didn't come. That was pretty disappointing, and I will admit that I got the little-girl lump in my throat and my eyes got a little bit wet. Then I got so frustrated with myself for allowing myself that hope.

I'm actually over that. You know how much therapy they make you get when you're going into the field of therapy?!?! They don't want you bringing your baggage to the table when you have a client sitting in front of you. But tonight I read a blog that brought some of that up. It a good, healthy, sustainable sort of way. So when I read my friend's blog I felt compelled to send him a message. Then I remembered that I have a couple of you who can completely relate. So I thought I'd share... enjoy!

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Just don't let the crazy people in your life harden your heart to the good and loving ones out there. Just think to yourself that they are diseased. They may not have a tangible cancer, but their mind is black and that is not a reflection on your worth. Nor is it an example of the others in this world who claim to love you- or those in the future who will love you.

Nowadays, we have a tendency toward self-protection and it creeps up on us. It creeps so that we never see it coming. And sometimes some people never even realize it's there. Remember that. Hold onto whatever naiveté you might still have. Cultivate it and grow it. Love it like your lover. Let it grow as you think about how all those people passed you except that one van. Think about how he was probably going somewhere and stopped to go out of his way for a struggling stranger. Pay it forward.

Love for the sake of it.

Love because your mother doesn't know how.

Love because there's extra in this world, since she's so full of hate.

Let her have yours. Your hate. Shrug it off, don't own it, let her have it because you refuse to give into it. Let her have the sorrow of losing a wonderful man from her life. Because as you grow your love, you will be rich and she will be poor, and she will envy your riches.

My mom is similar to yours, but worse. Mine loves me. No. Mine pretends she loves me. She tells me she loves me. Then moves to Texas when I'm 19, unwed and pregnant. Mine loves me. She calls and tells me so. She calls and tells my son how much she loves him. Then she tells him how I ran away from home when I was a teenager and that if he ever needs to leave she will be there. My son was 7 when she said that. But my mom loves me. She tells me so. She sends me Hallmark cards with flowers and poems and sappy crap. That means she really, super loves me. My mom loves me so much that she was never here when I was despairing and needing a mother, rather I had a sofa, an empty apartment and my arms wrapped around my knees because I just needed a hug. But she loves me, and because she tells me she loves me so profusely, I forget not to believe her. I forget until I'm crying again.

Sometimes I get angry and I wish she would disown me. Because I grow my love goshdarnit. I grow it because I refuse to let her have it. I choose to love her. I'm better than her. When I tell her I love her, I mean it. When I cry in a disappointment in only tears she can elicit at the ripe ol' age of thirty, I mean every tear. I feel each one. You know why?

Because I love.

Because I choose to love.

Because I am hopeful.

I am not hopeful she will change. She is diseased. You can't cure that, only mask the symptoms. But I am hopeful. I am hopeful that I will raise my son to know how to love and to know how to hurt. I will raise my son to know that hurting is human and because it's SO WONDERFUL to love, you have to accept that sometimes the consequence is pain. But to cut off the pain is to dull the love.

And why dull something so joyous? Love like you're a little kid and your mom loves you and the sun is shining and the bluebirds are singing. Love her like that through your anger and pain and frustration. Just don't let her know it. Don't let her exploit it. Don't let her abuse your love. It's YOUR love.