Curled Up in a Ball

Sunday, November 21, 2010

No sleep came for me, and I was up early, feeling sick and dizzy. My thoughts are all over the place at the moment. Everything from, "How/where/when did I screw up this motherhood thing, God?" to "What a loser my daughter is, Goddamnit!"

We have breakfast every Sunday together, have been for a while, and I wasn't going to let her out of it today. The ride was a nightmare. Maybe I could've said things differently, but you don't always think when you're feeling so intensely. We had quite the screaming match on the freeway on the way to…wherever…we bypassed our normal location because she was threatening to jump out of the car. I just kept driving on the freeway. The argument doesn't even matter because it was all nonsense and juvenile. She was angry, I was angry, she was hurt, I was hurt. It goes on and on when emotions are high and nerves are exposed.

To summarize her thinking, SHE (not I) decided that it would be better for everyone if she got a second job and found a friend to live with. I wouldn't have anyone to "ruin" my life, because she'd be out of my hair. She said it would enable me to have a happy life once and for all without the embarrassment of having her as my child. She's apparently got something up her sleeve – perhaps she has all along.

Bam, pow, smack. IN MY FACE. All I've ever wanted was to be a mom, and I want my children with me. I want HER with me. I want to take care of her and give her love and parenting and to worry about her and be there for her. Why would she want to give it up? So she could f-up without consequences? Do whatever she wants, whenever she wants? Just to bring me pain? I don't trust her reasoning, but she doesn't give me anything else.

She's off looking for that second job right now and I've been home curled up in a ball of nausea and despair. Writing this is all I've got. I have no one to talk to about this. Her father is useless and lives 1500 miles away, plus she hates him and he is of no consequence to her. My mother adores her and, at 74, doesn't need this information about her beloved granddaughter. I'm single and I don't want any of my friends to know what a terrible mother I must be. They'll only try to tell me otherwise, but I know it's true.

She just called to tell me she made it to her first location to fill out applications and she's safe. She signed off with "I love you, and I'll talk to you later."