a slap to the face just outta the blue

my mom stopped by the house today.  she had not been invited and didn’t bother to call and say “hey i am on my way over…is now a good time?” nope, she just pulled up and came in.  it is so hard to be around her.

she does not approve of me, at all.  nothing about my lifestyle or my choices seem to fall in line w her philosophy of how ppl are supposed to be.  i am queer-that in and of itself is repulsive to her.  when she sees amy  and i she tells herself and everyone else that we are just best friends.  i am opposed to capitalism, therefore having a bunch of frilly fancy shit around my house isn’t going to happen.  all of my art and all of my books and all of my stuff was either made by us, made by friends, found in the trash, found in a second hand store or stolen-that is where most of our books came from, except the ones that our friends wrote or illustrated then they were gifts.  everything i have means something to me, i do not have random things just to have things.  and we live in a very colorful very creative household.  one of my prize possessions is an avocado tree named oliva that my friend who is 10 little weyodi gave to me.  she started it from a seed for me bc we are friends.  everytime my mom sees me she tells me i need to shave.  everytime she sees the kids there is something they are doing or are not doing that is just not right…cut your hair, don’t stand like that, what is that shirt all about…it’s negative and demeaning.  she is mean to ted.  flat out rude to him.  he shouldn’t be here that is just not what ppl do and blah blah blah!  but he makes me happy and he helps take care of me and he is the boys father-they need all of us!  it’s how i live.

my mom was brought up in an upper middle class family.  my grandmother, her mother, was the first female business owner in north texas.  my mom was a debutant.  but she grew up married a welder, became a drunk and a drug addict and for the better part of my life we lived wo a stable source of food, and our toilet held up with 2×4’s bc the floor was falling down around it.  but somehow she has always maintained that entitled attitude of a middle class white woman. she wouldn’t even pump her own gas until i was 20!

now days she lives in a house w my sister and my niece.  she took me over there today.  i really didn’t have a choice, and it gave me the opportunity to see my niece who i adore as though she was my very own baby.  this was the first time for me to see her new house, and it’s cute, it’s beige very beige but i mean it’s cute.  i am glad she is doing good.

when she was walking through my house she didn’t say a word.  she just looked.  i am an overly clean person.  my house is clean.  she commented on that. “well, it is very clean!” she said in her unmistakably north texas accent.  that and her commenting on a picture i have in the living room of her mom and dad and her when she was a little girl, that was all she said about our house.

amy tells me all the time to just stay away from her, i am always hurt when i see her and we have nothing in common.  that is really easy for someone who was raised by parents who gave a shit about them and have a wonderful family relationship with to say.  it’s not so easy when the relationship in itself is based on years and years of mental, emotional and spiritual abuse, when you were the only one cleaning the sick off your mother, and carrying her into a clinic bc she had major staph infections.  when the relationship is more about a clinging need than want is a sick and twisted thing, and breaking those roots is almost impossible.  

i grew up with this want of family.  i grew up with a desire to have a family of good ppl and support and love and opportunity.  i have that now.  my boys amy and ted and i are very close and we are always here for each other.  i would do anything for the boys.  i adore them.  that is what every kid deserves.  but everytime i see my mom it is just a punch to the ego.  and it takes so long to recover from it.  

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