Relating to the Little Mermaid

Another day immersed with my thoughts. Far too much time to think.

I was cleaning the floors earlier in my already immaculate house when The Little Mermaid song popped into my head… I want to be where the people are. I want see, see them dancing, on what’s the word again… feet. When’s it my turn….

This was my favorite childhood movie. I loved it. Loved Ariel. I was obsessed. Out of all the movies – this was it for me.

Why? I’ve decided as an almost 40 year old adult – it’s because I could empathize with Ariel. I could relate. 5 year old me had the same feelings, dreams and wishes as Ariel. 40 year old me – still has the same dreams and wishes.

My grandmother was essentially her father. My version of the “sea” was growing up in the Jehovah’s Witnesses Cult. Being part of their world – the world outside of Jehovah’s Witnesses. My Grandma and her church people said they were bad. We were never allowed to socialize with the “worldly”. They were as bad to us as humans were to mermaids.

I have gidgets and gadgets a plenty but I want more…. I had so many things. Dolls. Barbies. Books. Movies. But I wanted more – I wanted friends, love, emotional connections, family that truly cared and didn’t just dictate. I wanted so much more.

My childhood has led me to where I am today. The constant cult brainwashing combined with my narcissistic mother – Left me always wanting more. Left a gaping hole in my heart I’m constantly trying to fill and I simply can’t. I can’t make it work. I can’t figure it out. I never feel whole. I always feel like somethings missing.

I want to be part of the world with holiday gatherings. Games. Love. Hugs. Family get together. Laughing. Vacations.

Instead, I just feel alone. Knowing my own current biological family can never and will never provide that. Knowing my current relationship and his family also have no interest in providing that.

I was so close. My baby was going to be my light. I imagined loving her so much and never letting my mom brainwash her. I dreamt of the traditions we’d make together. The holidays we’d spend together. The vacations, fun, school activities. She was it. She was the missing piece to help me create the life I’ve spent nearly 40 years praying for. For 12 weeks I had absolute dreams and hope. For nearly a year, from the moment she was retrieved I had dreams. More dreams than I’d had in decades.

She’s gone now. With her death came the death of my dreams, hopes, answered prayers. We won’t forge ahead together. She won’t be my magical, missing piece. I’ll never have that beautiful person that’s 100% my family to build a life with.

Instead, it’s back to just me. The old me that had no dreams or hope. The old me that had accepted her fate was to be lonely and sad. The old me that cried regularly and always wondered in her head what it would be like to truly be “a part of their world”.

Thanks for giving me a year of hope sweet baby. It was best year of my life and the absolutely best 12 weeks I’ve ever experienced. I just wish I didn’t feel doubly broken now. I cannot wait to make it to the other side and meet my daughter. That’s the only hope I have left for today. The dream of this life ending and hearing Annabelle’s laugh and welcoming me home. It can’t come soon enough.