Sunday, April 8, 2012

This morning I got up early.  Got ready for church.  Gave my teenager daughter her Easter gifts, and we walked across the street to my parents house to ride to church with them.  Before we left my teenage son called me from my parents house to demand (not request) I bring his black tie over - immediately.  Yes, that was rude.  Especially on Easter.  So, as I walked over there to the Big House, I carried with me Taylor's tie and his Easter gift box.

When I opened the double doors to my parents' home, I was not greeted nor acknowledged by my father, who was, by the way, in the main room.  Taylor took his tie and said, "Thank you."  His Easter box fell to the floor in transition.  He said, "And thank you for dropping that."

My feelings were hurt.  They ARE hurt.

Not just because Taylor was rude to me this morning.  But because Taylor has abandoned me. 

When we moved into this house, the one I now have returned to, about four years ago, the lines of authority began to shift.  It became too easy for Taylor and his brother and sister to go across the street to grandmother and grandfather's house.  Way too easy.  I tried to set rules and boundaries.  Those rules weren't respected by my children or my parents.  As time went by, the rules disappeared.  Even though I still saw them, no one else did.

I have no self esteem.  No self respect.  I am pretty good at faking it, but the truth is... those qualities are not within me.

After greeting my mother I went upstairs to my old bedroom - the one my son slowly but surely took occupancy of - my heart falling with every step.  Taylor was putting his tie on in the full length mirror.

Because I am pathetic, I said, "Taylor, I realize you don't want me.  You don't think you need a mother."

His reply was, "I don't want a mother.  I don't want anyone."

I sat there for a moment, saying nothing.  I used the restroom, then reentered the room furnished with high-end decor, furniture, and I felt the weight of my low-end life slam down on me.  I felt my father's disapproval.  I felt all my life failures.  If felt my son's disappointment in me, the disappointment I carry of myself.

I am dramatic.  But I meant it when I said, "I love you, Taylor, but I'm going home now," before taking leave.

I whispered to my daughter, in the library, "I'm going home.  I don't feel well."

"You can't go home, you have to go to church," she said.

"Not this time, please tell your grandmother."

"What did Taylor say to you?"  she wanted to know.

"Nothing," I said.  "I just have a headache."

She wasn't convinced.  I smiled reassuringly.  "I'll see you after church."

As I started down the stairs, Taylor came out of the bedroom and lightly grabbed my arm.  "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"There's no reason for you to go home."

"I don't feel well, Taylor."

"Mom..." Faith began.

"I'm okay," I said quietly, so my father would be less likely to hear.  I needed to be alone, to regroup, to cry like a fool.

Faith followed me outside.  I should have been stronger, but I wasn't.  Tears flowed down my face, as they do now.  As I sit here in my home office, I look up to see a beautiful and precious photograph of my boys - Taylor and his twin brother Tanner - at about age four and I wonder what happened to the little boys who clung to me leg when I took them to pre-K, not for the first week, but the whole year.  They are MY WORLD, always have been.  My heart breaks.  Not because they are selfish, but because I have been.

Somewhere along the line I gave up - not on then, never on them.  But on myself.  And now they are old enough, at 14, to recognize and name my failure.

I have made so many bad choices in my life.  I should have known they would eventually catch up to me.  When children are young they love you because you love them and because that's the nature of things.  I've always spoiled and praised and adored my children.  But they are old enough now to realize they don't have to love me and they don't have to respect me... and more and more they chose not to.

I'm divorced from their father.  I'm single.  Most of my friends are married, and let's be honest, married people mostly stick with married people.  I can do lunch with my friends, maybe go shopping or catch a movie, a play... put they have their own lives.  I have single friends, sure, but many of them... I don't know.  My kids have always been the center of my universe and now that they are older things have changed... the dynamics have changed.  My sisters are married with their own lives.  I see them some, but.. you know, it's different.  My mother loves me but she too realizes my failure.  Every time my father looks at me, I believe he sees the mistake that cost him so much when I was born.  My grandmother, who was my rock, is gone and I miss her... she who loved me unconditionally, always.  I like my freedom, I like being alone most of the time... but I feel lonely right now.

I realize I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I'm going to do it right now.  I have plenty of reasons to.  Later on today I'll pick myself back up and put on a smile - but not right now.

It's 10 a.m. and I'm going back to bed.

Happy Easter.