Dreaming seems to be the place where my whole life tries to understand itself.
Last night I guess I was.. facing the issues I have had with my mom in my past.
In my dream it was Christmas and I opened up the gifts my mother got me... and it was all stuff that I didn't need or couldn't use. I even remember clearly 2 pairs of sandals in my size.. but literally were like toddler fashion.
My sister opened up her gifts and she had gotten Abercrombie clothing as a gift for losing so much weight and a bunch of other things she could use and needed. I FLIPPED.
This is a perfect example of how I've felt about my mother my whole life. That she's always created the 'illusion' to others that she's cared or that she's loved me... when in reality, it's all been bullshit. Then everyone views me as the ungrateful selfish bitch. They claim I should be more appreciative that I get anything at all. But really - the only reason I did get anything at all was so she wouldn't look 'bad' and so that people would accept her. It was never about me. It was always about her and her attempt at showing others she was being or could be a good parent to me, without ever actually being that good parent. Plus I've always felt like the reject child.
Growing up... I don't even remember her. Isn't that weird? She worked from home, so it's not even like I never seen her or that she was always busy. But most of the time I remember her locked in her room doing God knows what. The only time I remember her being around was for dinner time - but I guess that makes sense her being extremely overweight and such my whole life. I have one memory of my mother... we were camping and I had a Mickey mouse coloring book - I was 5 I believe it was when I broke my leg and was in the wagon. Well, my mom finally agreed to color with me. She colored a picture of Goofy... and I remember looking at it and wanting to be able to color just like her.
In my teen years I told everyone I hated my dad and that he was awful. And yes - we fought a LOT when I was a teen... fist fights and all. But my dad taught me what guilt is.. he taught me what learning was, he taught me what motivation was, he taught me what understanding of others was, he taught me everything great that I know now.
My dad taught me to read and write, he was patient with me. He read my sister and I bedtime stories all the time. I remember we had this HUGE princess book that had golden pages. And my sister and I took turns choosing a story, which my dad took the time to read us. I remember climbing up on my dads lap while he was doing crossword puzzles and him making the examples easier for me to guess the answer - and he wouldn't write the answer in until I guessed it or until he explained whatever it was and helped me understand it. I remember when my dad would put puzzles together, the big ones that you build into figurines and such and I liked to watch him. I thought my dad was so smart and awesome. I remember when I was really little (no idea the age), one day my dad was outside with me.. it was sunny and hot out... he just laid on the grass with me looking up at the sky and he taught me to use my imagination, making pictures out of clouds. I think I may have even been too little to really make pictures out of the clouds... I probably just shouted random things and pretended I saw them, but he just laughed along with me. I remember when I was little he taught me how to swim... at something like 5 years old I could swim. I remember I told him I wanted to swim without arm floats and he told me to swim back and forth across the pool something like 3 times.. and I did. I felt so proud of myself and I mostly felt that way because I felt that my dad was proud of me. I also remember when I was older - maybe 10? I don't really know.. he spent time with me outside teaching me to ride a bike on my own. And I appreciated that probably more than he knows. I remember whenever I asked him questions he answered me to the best of his ability - which is a parenting trait I now have for my own children, and I love it. In my teen years we fought a lot... nobody in my family was perfect. But what mattered the most to me was when my dad came in and hugged me, when he just tried to talk to me and explain things to me. The most important thing though was when he was apologize to me. And because of that - I now can apologize to others as well - even my children. I am grateful for my dad and I am even more grateful that I still have him in my life today. He means a lot more to me than he knows.
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