Thursday's Child ... has far to go ... (0nm10wn2feet) wrote,
Thursday's Child ... has far to go ...
0nm10wn2feet

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She dreams...

For my friends who read these meanderings, please pardon this one.  Just the musings of a mom who sometimes hates the fact that she IS a mom... because she can't find that damn magic wand.

Yes, she dreams.  More these days, I fear.  I think it has something to do with his proximity.  Against all logic, he is here, in this state, not 30 miles from her.  And that makes her think, and speculate, and wonder if/when she'll run into him.  If he still thinks about how close she is, or if he even thinks about her at all.  On very bad days, she still accuses me of having brought him into her life.  She's still convinced, at those times that, if he gives her any passing thought whatsoever, it is only to laugh at how incredibly naive she was then... or to speculate on how incredibly pathetic she's become.

She's sure, since he's still very good friends with the one that she once called 'friend,' they get together and laugh at her stupidity.  On really bad days, she imagines that they ridicule her and her pathetic existence... that they swap stories of her ineptitude... that they are oh-so-happy together or with others.  She views herself as too horribly flawed, both physically and emotionally, to extend herself as she once did.

Those are the very bad days, though.  On the plain bad days, she accuses me of having forced him from our lives, of meddling in hers and his both, of raising her hopes again last year.  I did what she begged me to do, what she didn't have the strength to do on her own.  I tried to feel out the mindset and was misled by what I wanted to see.  I heard what I wanted to hear.  Nothing more.  I'm a big girl, I should have known better, but it is so VERY, horribly hard to sit here and watch the bubbly, out-spoken, outrageous girl I knew fade ever-so-slightly on a daily basis before my eyes.  What kills me the most is that I had never seen her feel so right than when he was here.  In the years that have passed, she's only been even mildly attracted to two other people - neither of them people that she would ever find the courage to approach.

She wasn't even really attracted to the one she turned to when her dreams died.  He was a warm body to hold her while she cried, someone to lean on, nothing more.  The fact that he abused her in the process really meant very little to her.  She was pretty convinced that she didn't deserve anything better.  That one was there - but that was the only solace she had.  It's hard to explain how deeply invested she was in the relationship she had with the other - the one she sometimes still dreams about.  It's hard for those who have normal, stable emotions to understand how very much she opened herself to that one.  She felt, at times, as though he truly WAS her other half.  That he completed her.  That, somehow, she was a better person WITH him than she was WITHOUT him.  That he made her want to be a better person, even in her own right.

She went through the motions after he left.  She vowed she would make him see that she WAS all that he could want.  Or need.  She enrolled in college and she did an amazing job in her first semester of classes.  Unfortunately, she took classes that left her wanting to tell him all about them, to share her readings and findings with him.  She just knew that he would find those things just as fascinating as she, herself, did.  And she hoped... she hoped he would tire of the boredom in the tiny town where he was situated.  She hoped that he would turn to her again.  Instead, he turned to someone who was supposedly her friend, yet who never once divulged that interest in him to her.

Needless to say, it was devastating when the truth was made known.  And I got the blame for that too.  I suppose I deserved it.  As we all know, that road to hell is paved with "good intentions," is it not?  We lived through that, though.  I bore the abuse as best I could because I knew she had no other outlet for the feelings that welled up.  I knew that, when things calmed, as they always did, she would admit that she knew the reasons why everything happened the way it did.  There were just times when she couldn't accept those reasons as well as she could at other times.  Again, last year, when the bubble burst once more, it was my fault.  But only on the bad days.  Only on the days when she got to obsessing over her pathetic excuse of a life.  Only on the days when she would meticulously pick apart every facet of her being and find some flaw that she was sure everyone else could see at first glance.

Her nose.  It's too big and has a HUGE bump in it... so huge and horribly disfiguring that no one could possibly find her desirable.  Her thighs.  So flabby, with stretch marks there and across her hips; anyone could clearly see that, even through the ragged, threadbare, painstakingly patched jeans that she just can't force herself to quit wearing.  Her hair, too long or too short, spiky or not feathered just right.  Dark roots growing into the platinum blonde, or plain, ugly brown showing in the glossy black she prefers.  Her nails... often broken, ragged and never what she would like them to be on the few occasions that she DOES force herself out in the world.  Her eyes... too BROWN.  Too plain.  Too normal.  All this, and then she starts on her character flaws.  It's a little much for a mother to take on a regular basis, that's for sure.

Then again, her character flaws were part of what she believes drove him out of her life.  On the bad days, she voices this.  She was too... take your pick... outspoken, mouthy, loud, rude, bitchy, mean, irrational, argumentative.  Whatever you can think up, she's already found it and decided it applies to her.  On the bad days.  Even on the good days, though, she will point out those things that still drive her crazy about herself.  Those things that she claims he didn't like.  On the good days, she will get angry with herself and make herself do things that she normally wouldn't - like go places.  She will drive by herself down to that club in Detroit.  She will go to the Detroit Film Theater alone.  She goes to other movies alone.  All to prove to herself that she isn't the clingy, needy person he said she was.

I know she worries about whether or not she'll run into him.  After all, she goes to school in the city where he now lives, supposedly.  She's not sure what she would say, or do, if she did see him.  Some days, she's convinced she'd still open her arms for a hug.  Other days, she's pretty sure she'd break down crying, no matter how much she wouldn't want him to see.  Once in a while, she thinks about writing to him.  She gets as far as asking me to check his Myspace, to see if there's anything that would make her feel worse on it.  She almost got up the nerve, then lost it when trying to think of something intelligent and witty to say.  She was pretty sure that he didn't need to hear from her anyway - pretty sure that he didn't even give her a second thought anymore.

So it goes.  She wonders.  Every now and then she'll ask if I know anything and I answer as honestly as possible.  Yes, I still read his posts.  As usual, they are couched in the most vague of terms.  One never could discern what that boy was thinking from his writing - it only made sense after he explained it, or if he referenced an actual event.  And one never knows just who he's talking to, if anyone, in them.  Most are written as though they are speaking to someone, but she is sure it's not her.  I told her about one where he said he regretted not dancing with someone.  She said it wasn't about her and got very quiet, and sad.  I don't tell her about them any more.  I don't think she'll ever see him again.  I know she won't make the first move, and I'm fairly sure he won't either.

Why?  You might well ask.  Who knows?  Maybe the girl is right and he honestly has no interest whatsoever in talking to her ever again.  Maybe I'm right and he doesn't want to put himself at risk for anything that isn't a sure thing.  Maybe we're both wrong.  I don't know.  It really doesn't matter either.  Yes, I'll hear from him occasionally, maybe even hear a bit about how his life is going.  I'll see whatever he posts, maybe hear from his brother now and then.  Stuff like that.  But I know we won't see him here again.  Not even when he gets his car up here.  IF he's really still up here.  I think that's why she's having more dreams.  Of course, still living in the same place where they lived, slept, ate, played and fought together, it's a little harder to forget.  Especially when she is still building up those walls to shield herself with.  She still can't bring herself to go in that bedroom, not with that permanent marker still on the wall.  But she won't let anyone cover it up either.

On good days, though...  I live for the good days.  She's witty, funny, smart, off-beat, unpredictable and as vibrant as ever.  Her eyes flash and her smile sparkles.  Her laughter is infectious.  We were just dancing to Tom Petty during the half-time show... and she fondly recalled her Tom Petty CDs.  Fortunately, she even made her father stop singing.  I love my child's spontaneity, her enthusiasm when an idea really grabs her.  Her fire when she's worked up, and that "oh, damn" look on her face when she realizes she's been a dork.  Why can't anyone else see that?  Because she won't open her mouth in public anymore.  She doesn't dare approach people without at least a shot of 'Dutch courage.'  She's afraid of talking because she knows where that got her with him.  It makes me sad, mad, and oh-so-very frustrated.

I love my child, both of my children.  I am "mom" enough to think that they are both very unique, special individuals that have a lot to offer.  Too bad very few get to witness it.  Too bad even fewer still have any desire to.  Still, since I have yet to locate the damn magic wand I lost when they grew older, I can't kiss her 'boo-boos' and make them disappear any more.  And it's a safe bet that the one person who might be able to help "fix" her... won't.  More's the pity.  For what it's worth, though, I don't hold it against him.  He has his own demons to overcome - that's part of why he had to leave in the first place.  He never did understand that the stuff she said wasn't actually directed at him personally.  He was far too literal to realize the hidden reasons for her behavior.  And he, like I said, had far too many demons to contend with of his own.  Which he may, or may not, be working on.  Time, as always, will tell.  My heart aches for both of them, in different ways.  And still, I can do nothing.  Helpless is NOT a good feeling for a mom.  Not at all.  At least I've gotten better at saying "I don't know" without wanting to kill something, though.  I guess that's a plus.

Then again, like I said before, who knows?  Stranger things HAVE happened!  I mean, what are the odds that a kid that went to school with my son would end up on the other side of the state, and run into, of all people, my niece, Steven's cousin?  AND end up hanging out with her and her boyfriend 50 miles north of where he's living??  AND would end up calling here just to let us know?  It is a small world, friends, a very small world.  Then again, it's also bigger than one might think.  Miracles do happen, but not to us, usually.  Who knows, indeed?
:/
~~me~~

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