I am thirty years old and I am searching for my mommy. I wonder where she went. If she is gone for good. Why she left. Who this woman is who has taken her place.
I am not sad as I saw it coming. Her departure was gradual. Bit by bit, pieces of her whittled away. I try to figure out whether or not I did something to cause her erosion. Perhaps.
If there seemed to be something to be done to fix it that would not require me transforming into a sacrificial lamb, I would do it. However, it seems the only thing that could satisfy her is my eternal indentured servitude ... simply because mommy says so.
Please do not mistake me. Respect is due and necessary. Complete control is not. Control is not synonymous with respect. Clearly, her definition and mine differ. But, where do I find common ground. Is there?
If I were given a choice at the beginning of life, an opportunity to choose my vessel into life, I would still choose her.
My mother loves me. Loves me the only way she knows how. But there is better love. And, while I grow and change, she seems to become more set in her “loveless” way. She wants to control my way more and more. She likes me less and less. Acts like every little thing isn’t good enough.
I’m not rattled, but worried. Worried that my mommy is gone forever and wondering who this impostor is that has replaced her. Wondering, has this thing stolen other mommies too.
