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Dear Mom,

You know how I feel about Hallmark Holidays. Perhaps it’s my own inflated sense of ego, but I find myself far too original for them. Then again, Christmas has become a Hallmark Holiday, hasn’t it? And I fall for it, hook, line, and sinker. This past year, I softly played Michael Buble’s Christmas album while I roasted my sixth Thanksgiving turkey… the same thing I’ve done since I was fifteen. (Sans the Michael Buble album, which you really should check out. It’s AWESOME.) But there was really something missing, you know. There’s been something missing for a few years now, especially around the holidays.

I miss you. A lot. I miss how you used to be one of my best friends. Even now, when we DO talk, you remain one of the only people on the planet I can talk to about anything and I never feel judged or looked down on by you. But I miss our talks that lasted until you would gently fall asleep in your bed. Exhausted, I’m sure, from a long day’s work. You know, I always thought you just sat in an office all day. I never realized how hard you worked until I started doing pretty much the same thing and coming home at night entirely drained.

I miss you a lot. In the weirdest moments. There’s a saying. It says “Sometimes you just need an old movie, some chocolate pudding, and your mom.” I can’t tell you how true that is. I’m twenty-two-and-a-half years old and there are times when I still feel like falling to the floor and rocking back and forth and calling out for you until you come and save me, come and rescue me. There comes a point when you realize that you can call for your mommy as much as you want… but she can’t come and save you anymore. Suddenly, the problems in this world have become much bigger than anything she can rescue you from. She can find your yellow crayon and fix the wheel on your Barbie car and tell you that your picture is beautiful… but she can’t make your boss love you and she can’t get your driver’s license for you and she can’t end that horrible argument you just had with your boyfriend.

All of a sudden… you’re a grown-up. And “mommy” looks entirely different than it did ten years ago, fifteen years ago. I think the hardest part is that I’m not entirely sure how to navigate this new territory. I lived my entire life with you never being more than a couple of minutes away from me. When I needed a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a heart to understand… all I had to do was walk through your door and say, “Mom, help.” So I don’t know what to do with myself when it’s been months since I’ve seen you and you’re an hour away and you’re not there on a daily basis. It’s weird. It’s unsettling. It makes me miss you. What used to be. 

But this is not a day for mourning. This is a day for rejoicing. Remember, just because Amanda and I turned eighteen doesn’t mean you’re not our mom anymore. You’ll always have that distinction. It’s you whose sooner going to be Mother of the Bride and Grandma now. Think about that, will you?!? Five years ago, who would’ve thought that future was possible for ME, right?!? Thanks for keeping me sane through it, for keeping me alive. You’ll never, ever know what that means to me to this day. You were a lot of things to me. Confidante, shelter, chef, IT specialist, Mrs. Fix-It, medic, maid, chauffeur… best friend when I had none. Encouragement. Tear-catcher. Arm of strength.

Always remember this when you think you’re not strong enough: Amanda and I. If you doubt what you’ve done in this life, your impact on this world… all you have to do is look at us. We weren’t an accident. We didn’t just happen. You had a hand in that. Remember that. 

Know that no matter what happens, just as there is nothing I could do to make you love me less… the same applies to you. There is nothing you could do, nothing you could say, no where you could go, that could make me love you less. Ever. 

I love you mom.

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Favorite part of this entire freaking movie and it makes me sob EVERY time.

Jack: You’re so stupid, Rose, you’re so stupid! Why did you do that?! WHY?!

Rose: You jump, I jump, right?

BAHHHHH!

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melodiconeliners:

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Debussy. 

♥

I don’t know how to love. 

I hate admitting that. After all, I always swore I’d be better than my parents. Especially my father. I swore I’d be a good wife, kind and tender-hearted, slow to anger and abounding in patience. After all, that’s Biblical. It turns out, although I am not a wife, I’m anything but those things.

How can love make you hurt so much?

Sometimes, no matter what anyone says to contradict you, you just have to be honest with yourself. And my truth?

I’m not mentally well. That’s the long and short of it.

My other truth? When it comes to love, I fail. Over and over and over. I just fall short. I’m just not good enough. 

Have you ever had someone tell you that they hate parts of you? Have you ever told someone you hated them? Have you ever had someone make you feel lower than the fleas that live on rats in gutters? Have you ever let someone so close to your heart that you could feel every sinew tear as they ripped that heart to shreds?

Or have you ever spat words out at a person that are so obscene, so horrible, that you want to know what kind of demon has possessed your body and taken over your soul to make you speak to someone that way?

And we claim to love these people that we treat this way.

I have no fucking clue what love IS.

No clue.

All I know is that this hurt is unbearable. This pain forces me outside of my own mind and turns me into a mere spectator during the tragic trainwreck of my own life. And I keep doing it. I keep coming back to it because when it’s good, it’s so good. It’s like drugs. The high makes the crash worth it in my mind, until I’m in the middle of the crash and then I swear off the damn drugs forever because it’s the most hellish thing a human being could ever put themselves through.

I feel worthless. Not good enough. I wish people would let me be honest with myself and admit that I am uneducated, stupid, white trash, disgusting, crap. Just crap. I HATE that people won’t let me admit that to myself. Because it’s true.

I won’t ever be good enough. Ever. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t try my goddamn hardest. If I didn’t give it everything I have. And now I have nothing left. I am outside of myself. I don’t even know myself anymore and the world has gone blurry. I have lost my mind.

calihco:

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