Airolg

Dear…..
It’s difficult, writing when I can’t even figure out how to address you. “Dear Gloria” sounds so formal. “Dear Mom” isn’t logical and feels weird. And even tho I’ve just begun, I realize that my second conundrum is how to sign off. “Dear [echo]” is what I’d normally use. But in your mind, I bet you still think of me as Melanie. Hard to change a 24 year old habit.

You’ve been on my mind all day. Yesterday too. Much of the week, I suppose. But alot of the time I brush the thoughts to the side. And I realized today that I lump you in with all of my “Stuff” which is mostly Not Good Stuff. And that makes me feel bad. Makes me feel guilty. You shouldn’t be Bad Stuff to me. It shouldn’t be that way.

You know I wonder about you…what you’re doing, how you’re doing, if you’re alright or not. It’s in my nature to worry, I think, and so mostly I worry about you. How you’re doing without being with your boys all of the time, without being able to live the life you’ve lived for so long. Change is difficult, and if we share similar personalities and traits…well, I don’t necessarily handle change like a champ.

Do we, I wonder? Do we share personalities? I gather from y(our) family that sarcasm is a main staple, which makes me smile. What about laughter as a defense mechanism? I’m good at that one.

I searched and searched, and I found you. And now I know that alcoholism runs rampant in my blood line. I know that cancer is also somewhat common, along with depression and a bit of thyroid disease. I know that you have 2 small children. That you have freckles and less than perfect eye sight. But do I know what makes you laugh? Or what you do in your spare time? What your favourite music is or if you like to read?

Sometimes I wish that it had been you who found me. I feel like I started the ball rolling, so it’s up to me to keep the momentum, steer the course, avoid cliffs and trees and anything else that might unsettle or pop it. heh. What is it J says about me? One of my strengths is that I’m responsible but one of my problems is that I tend to be over-responsible. I’ve been trying, ya know, to let things go. To not blame myself for everything, not believe that everything is my fault or my duty to fix. But this…you…I suppose I’m having trouble letting the sense of duty go with this.

I don’t know why you’re so fiercely fixed in the forefront of my mind lately. It’s not my birthday or yours, not mother’s day or Christmas. No special anniversaries that I’m aware of. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been so well, emotionally, lately. I’m still walking on ice, but now I have better shoes. Except sometimes it feels like all this weight is on me…you, Elmer, Asshole…you shouldn’t be a cause for the laces to come undone. Them, yeah. But not you. Shouldn’t you be a happy spot in my life? Shouldn’t you be all goodness and light?

Of course, nothing is all good or all light. But why must you be lumped with those things that are so dark? Why can’t I come to terms with whatever it is you and I have? Acceptance. Acceptance is difficult for me.

I read the note your mother sent to me, the day we met (she signed it “Gran”) In it, she mentioned that the day you left me at the hospital was one of the saddest days of her life, that she tried to convince you to keep me, that she’d help you raise me.

Where would I be, if that had been the way it played out? Certainly not in this small college town on my way to a second degree. I’m not sure I would have had the chance to go to college. (And as for desire…I never really had a desire to attend college. It was just another duty that wasn’t to be questioned. I certainly don’t regret it, but if circumstances had been different, I mightn’t have ever gotten a first degree, letalone a second.) I’m not sure that I’d be the person that I am. And…I think maybe I’m finally getting comfortable with the person that I am.

Perhaps that’s a side effect? The by-product of not being raised with people genetically similar to me…thereby changing some of the patterns of my life…enhancing things that otherwise wouldn’t’ve been enhance, not nurturing things that may’ve otherwise been nurtured. Maybe the body and brain, when that happens, needs extra time to come to terms with the altered outcomes.

It’s late. I’ve been on this subject too long. I need a distraction but am having trouble finding one strong enough. It’s time for me to go to bed, but I fear my mind will still be composing the rest of this letter. But I’m tired. My eyes hurt, and my cat is indicating that she’d like me to get out of her chair so that either she can lay here or so that I will go feed them.

I know not how to end this. So I shall just say, be well. Perhaps one day I’ll send something similar. Perhaps not. Only time can tell.