Finding the Matriarchal Strength

I’ve truly come to love the silence, oh so much.  I don’t know what it is about sitting here with a computer and television both turned on, but with no sound coming out of either of them.  Doesn’t that just make the TV doubly pointless?  I mean, right now, it’s just a blank, blue screen (the Input, as I was playing my 360 earlier through the AV jacks).  But, yes…I do so love the silence.  About the only thing I’m even willing to break it for these days is the sounds of some music, but that’s only from time to time.  With all the noise that surrounds me at work, and when I’m not home alone…well…I take the silence when and where I can get it.  And I’d truly forgotten how much I had adored it.

Thankfully, though, it appears that I shall be able to enjoy it just about any time I please coming up in the next few months.  That much beloved by all roommate of mine, Shera, is talking seriously about moving back in with her parents.  Apparently she hates Gallatin so much that anything else is a proper alternative.  Not to mention that she’s pretty much completely broke (as she has effectively quit her job…continuing to work there two days a week notwithstanding).  And since she’s likely to take next semester off of school to get her head straight (she says), she knows I’ll be asking her to kick in half the bills, and that she also knows I won’t back off it like I have her meager share she’s supposed to be chipping in now.  And I’m not discouraging her leaving.  At all.  As we all know, I’ve always been about whatever is best for her……but this is also about what is best for ME.  Point blank and bluntly…I’m happier when she isn’t here.  When she is here, whether alone or with Chris, I’m always stressed, jumpy, stepped on, or some other such negative thing.  But never happy.  I’m pretty much always annoyed about something.

And here’s what I believe that "something" has evolved into…

I’ve said many times that it rather upsets me and pisses me off the level to which myself and my contributions to Shera’s life are completely taken for granted.  And it just continues to get worse every time we talk about remotely similar issues because all these things she says she wants from life, she has right in front of her and she doesn’t even seem to either notice, nor care.  One of her issues is how she always has to compete with her mother for her own "friends’" attentions, and how she just wants a friend that is only hers.  Which I’ve always been to her.  She needs and wants people in her life who are going to encourage her and push her towards what she wants for herself.  Which I’ve always done, without fail.  And she says things like this without ever seeming to acknowledge that I’ve always been these things for her.  It pretty much makes it seem like I’ve never really existed.  And that’s what pisses me off the most about our "friendship."  The fact that she seems to ignore that it’s all happened a certain way……her sense of revisionist history, and complete ignorance of the role I’ve played, and even continue to play now, in her life over the past 15 months.

And to close the Shera part of this entry….a story about "us."

A few nights ago, we finally delved into the topic of why there never officially became an "us."  Her reason?  We butt heads too much and fight too much.  Nevermind that we weren’t like that until after she started slowly, but completely, breaking my heart.  But it’s also a point I’ll never dispute, because we do argue often.  Have for a long time now.  Much of it out of mutual bull-headedness.  But my point to her on this was simply that I’ve always just been angry because it never got a chance to work or to fail.  And boy if I had a dollar for every time I’ve had to say those words in reference to a relationship….  That would be a rather nice collection of Washingtons.  I also brought up to her that I don’t think she and I will even be on speaking terms a year from now, which was a sentiment she kind of echoed.  And, truthfully, I’ll force it to become that way once she moves out.  I’m pretty well just done with her at this point.  All I get out of our "friendship" is shit.  All the benefit is hers, and that just doesn’t work for me.  I’m all for letting her realize what it is she’s missing when I’m gone from the stage of her life.  Does that make me a vindictive bastard?  Probably.  But y’know what?  I truly don’t give a fuck.

Now Playing in Dave’s Mental Jukebox:  "Lost" by Red, "Til You Feel Something" by Dropping Daylight, "Kill Tomorrow" by Mushroomhead

The call I’ve been expecting to get since Saturday that my uncle Jerry has died still hasn’t come as of 3AM Tuesday morning.  Between the cancer and pneumonia, he’s still putting up a fight.  The display of strength that shows me actually just makes me think of my mother.  My mother is, without a single doubt in my mind, the strongest person I’ve ever known.  And it’s kind of weird to hear myself say that, because when you look at my mom, or even talk to my mom….you’d never guess such a thing.  Honestly, something about her seems (and to an extent is) very weak and passive and timid.  But there’s this whole other side of her…this steely resolve….this all-encompassing inner strength….that you can only really see in times of crisis, or when you really delve into what she’s done in her life.

Take the following few examples as a nice "for instance"….

My mother’s duty when both her father and mother died within a couple years of each other was to go into their hospital rooms when they were at death’s door and look them in the eyes and tell them it was okay for them to go.  It’s also to be her duty for Jerry when that time comes (I was told she was going to do it this past Saturday afternoon, but I don’t know if she did or not).  Now, I guess that someone really kind of should do something like this, but, to me, shouldn’t a responsibility like that fall to the oldest child?  My mom is the third of four.  She has an older sister and older brother, neither of whom had the strength to perform this duty.  It’s kind of awe-inspiring to me.  And the more I think about it, the more it makes me so horribly ashamed of the years I spent resenting my mother.  God, I’m so horribly ashamed of that.  Considering all of the horrible things I’ve done in my life (and they’re more numerous and despicable than any of you could possibly know), that’s what I’m most ashamed of in my near 28 years on this Earth.  It’s the thing I’d most like to go back in time and change, which, again, speaks volumes considering some of the other things I could change.

I can only dream of someday having my mother’s strength of character.  But, hey, maybe somehow this two main topics are related.  Maybe I’m starting to walk the path towards my own inner strength.  Only time will tell.  Because, while I do know I have a certain level of inner strength…..it pales in comparison to what she has.

I’ll just have to wait and see.

Sayonara.