It's hard going from silence and Self to constant conversation, especially when it's of the debating sort. That's one thing I always loved about my husband - his ability to be silent for long periods of time. While we lost a lot of our time like that to our children, when we were first together one of my favorite things to do was to sit and read while he watched tv or played video games. We could pass hours without speaking. I would speak more than he, but it wasn't necessary. Even in our arguments we've been able to maintain silences without the urgent need to fill them. I miss being able to be silent with him, miss being able to just be with him.
Sometimes it's just painful for me to be around other people, simply because they're there and they exist. Introvert problems.
There is a sorrow that comes when you realize you've grown past the child you were and can no longer place a parent on a pedestal. It's so much harder for me to accept my mother as human (and she seems to become more so as she ages and I age in turn), than it is to accept my father who has always had such open and apparent failings (he's actually gotten much better and I love him, no hard feelings). Like, really hard. Really, really hard. Painfully hard. I often find myself, recently, puzzled over her behavior, as though someone has taken my mother for a moment, and put someone else in her place. Did I miss this all along? Or, is it as new as it appears to be? Maybe both? It is a cause of stress for me right now, in the midst of all of this upheaval, to be having to reorder my recognition of my mother.
Maybe this is because when faced with certain crossroads in our lives that were scarily similar, I took the path she didn't. I'm not sure. It does feel that way sometimes.
She's still there for me, in a lot of ways, but in some ways it's like....she just can't be there for me anymore. We can't reach each other.
Sometimes it's just painful for me to be around other people, simply because they're there and they exist. Introvert problems.
There is a sorrow that comes when you realize you've grown past the child you were and can no longer place a parent on a pedestal. It's so much harder for me to accept my mother as human (and she seems to become more so as she ages and I age in turn), than it is to accept my father who has always had such open and apparent failings (he's actually gotten much better and I love him, no hard feelings). Like, really hard. Really, really hard. Painfully hard. I often find myself, recently, puzzled over her behavior, as though someone has taken my mother for a moment, and put someone else in her place. Did I miss this all along? Or, is it as new as it appears to be? Maybe both? It is a cause of stress for me right now, in the midst of all of this upheaval, to be having to reorder my recognition of my mother.
Maybe this is because when faced with certain crossroads in our lives that were scarily similar, I took the path she didn't. I'm not sure. It does feel that way sometimes.
She's still there for me, in a lot of ways, but in some ways it's like....she just can't be there for me anymore. We can't reach each other.
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