Bad Seed.

What were you expecting
by reaching out to me?
a disapproving stranger
without any sympathy;

I have nothing left to give you
you’ve stripped my being clean
Put that red hand back in your pocket
when you’re in my vicinity;

Your struggles and your sadness
are not lost on what I perceive
The creature you’ve turned into
was somehow born to me;

Yet, in spite of such genetics
you remain a foreign entity
I may be your mother
but my daughter is deceased;

People blame and name me
pass judgment cruelly
And perhaps, I am a failure
I don’t deny these things;

Whatever I stand up for
in the end of such tragedy
I will not be standing
for what you’ve grown up to be.

Curse the skies.

I’ve realized something within the past few weeks that feels like it changes nothing and everything all at once; I realize that the only reason I cling so desperately and miserably to any semblance of a relationship with my mother is because it’s all I have left. Without the ongoing disinformation that I feed myself regarding the likelihood of ever finding a fulfilling medium there, with her, my entire existence easily crumbles beneath me. The past and the future feel irrelevant; and the present moment is simply void of any true meaning or worth.

My good parent (my Dad) is long gone, curse the skies; my Papa too…and so went any ties to that line for me. I still technically have my brothers; but we are all grown up now and supposed to be separate, with our separate families…and, they each are, at least. I don’t begrudge them for it, either; and I am allowed into the warmth of each one’s circle occasionally, to thaw the frozenness in me enough to keep going. Sometimes, I feel bitter and very isolated upon leaving my brother’s house. My remaining full blood brother doesn’t speak to our mother when he can help it because he has the fulfillment of his wife’s huge and seemingly happy family to supplement. It was with him last week that I was having what seemed a trivial enough discussion, when our mother came up in conversation, and he said:

I try to avoid talking to Mom as much as I can; she makes me sick actually, to be honest…”

Coming from the guy who has always been on her side through the many years of turmoil and chaos between she and I, this struck me like a lightning bolt. I guess in a sense, it was validating on the one hand (as I feel like I have spent the better portion of my life in trying to make my brothers understand how totally fucked up and warped she can be), but damning on the other hand, somehow. I have been holding things together between myself and my mother through the catalyst of this specific brother for quite a while now, and without him between us anymore, there’s nothing at all.

My mother and step-dad continue to allow themselves to be used and abused by that evil Spawn of Satan that I bore almost 19 years ago. Apparently, both Boo and her no-good “boyfriend” still dominate the household over there. They made the choice to permit such bullshit, and so it goes. Boo’s 19th birthday is next week; and I am determined to let the day pass like any other day. I have not bought her a gift and do not intend to; as anything I have ever spent my money on for her gets immediately traded for drugs or given away to one of her stupid drug-addict, hooker “friends”. I don’t know how else to describe it, besides to say that I feel like I have given absolutely everything I have to give to that creature already. I simply have nothing left for her.

I will be honest with myself and say that I truly regret her; I truly dislike her; I truly want nothing more than to forget her completely – she has drained my life of so much of what’s important. She has spent everything within me already; the experience of being her mother has emptied me to my toes. I guess the combination of such an outcome for me, mixed with the perpetually deepening hollow in my heart and soul as a damaged and broken human being leaves me this way, feeling this way. Helplessness might begin to describe some of it; embitterment covers large portions of it; but emptiness pretty much buttons it up.

 

Line in the Dirt.

To shelter you in true security,
to laugh with you at funny things,
to cover you when you fall asleep,
to comfort you when you’re in need,
encourage you to do the right thing,
push you ahead when you’re faltering,
keep you tucked away in secrecy,
wrap you inside warmth for eternity,
to take you places that you like to be,
show you a world free from captivity,
to emphasize your own worth individually,
to make you understand all of this, finally,
to demonstrate the big picture clearly,
to express with a most thorough accuracy,
hold you close to the broken heart in me,
until the day that the thing refuses to beat,
to let you know of the alternate way it could be,
in the place where you have abandoned me,
to sit you down and show you the hard reality,
the line drawn in the dirt that will kill us both, eventually.

Promise.

“For you girl, the future holds never-ending promise…”;

Those are the words that my great-grandmother mumbled through her toothless mug at me last Friday when I went to see her (for the first time in way too long). At the time, I was just grateful that she hadn’t decided to Hex me somehow for allowing so much time to pass between visits; she actually never even brought up the recent negligence on my part to maintain our former schedule. I never really know where Grandma T is coming from with the randomly spouted morsels of wisdom that she is notorious for letting slip – yet, nearly everything she says out of context at the time she says it, oftentimes plays itself into the happenings of the days directly following the statement. She has always been a tearful woman; not like a psycho – cut off my hair – manic/depressive tearful, more like she remains in a constant state of mourning, all the time. I’m beginning to wonder if that has something to with me…

Yes, for me, the future holds promise; promise that things will change…good things will go sour and bad things will evolve into tolerable circumstances. That’s what Life is about.

There are promised periods of despair, self-doubt and loneliness; and I feel assured that my self-enforced alienation from my hell-bent-on-being-victimized parents will leave another hole in my Swiss Cheese heart; but I also feel very certain of my personal need to get away from the vicious cycle attached to the two of them, in accordance with my own daughter and only child. I feel as if this whole situation has always been on the brink, on the outskirts of my existence just waiting to occur. They have apparently decided to enable themselves to be destructively tossed around in that thankless and soul-sucking spin cycle; I have been swayed in the complete opposite direction.

It continues to be difficult for me to comprehend even on the most fundamental surface level: my place in this newly forged trench in the wasteland between Boo and I. I have been the spade thrower digging day and night while I am numbly sleep-walking around. I have deeply burrowed myself away from the battlefield and lost interest in the meaningless warfare.

I have, in essence, had to make the choice I’ve spent every moment in dreading recently… the choice that I feel as if I have spent forever hanging from the sharp edges of… from the two worst possible options for someone to be faced with. Cruel and unusual in nature, it’s a choice that offers a finality that will bring closure – even if it is NOT anything like the “closure” I might have liked to have. I have not yet fallen into complete resignation behind my choice yet, but, at least I have made the decision. This decision does not boast any perks for my future to come, outside of the hopeful prospect of some peace and fucking quiet; I will be cutting off my own nose to spite my own face with this choice – but the same can be said for the alternative choice being made as well.

In my adulthood (current state of being), I have allowed myself to become exceptionally recluse and isolated from others, including my family. Because of the close connections between my parents (mom and step-dad) and my only child to one another, I have spent many years leading up to this choice in being trapped between my own unrealistic, self-serving need for a family as an element of my own identity – and the reality that I my “family” is by far: the most emotionally destructive and unhealthy thing known to my existence. I am no angel, but I have learned from this Living Hell that I am also definitely not cut out for the dramatics and lack of humanity that seem to be attached to both my mother and my daughters’ personalities. I have been idly standing by throughout these past few months while my only child has single-handedly demolished whatever stability my parents had going for them, if warning and pleading with them to cut her loose means that much. The scratchy words in my throat still ring from the night before my stepfather was nearly beaten death, when I said to him,

“If you aren’t careful Pop, she’s gonna get you killed…”

They have been robbed, burglarized, my step-dad was beaten, ransacked, sucked dry of any money that they may have had prior to Boo’s return to the area; my mother’s car is totaled, the garage of their home has been crashed into and tumbled down. I get these calls from my mom detailing the extreme stupidity involved with all three sides – my mom, dad, and my daughter. I have to listen to how she lies her way back into their lives, then I have to listen to how she fucked them over again afterwards. I can’t do it.

So in essence, my mother’s refusal to keep me separate from the never-ending drama attached to my daughter, has ultimately pushed me back far enough to no longer want to return again.

I haven’t been speaking to any of my family besides my great grandma, because she lives on a reservation that my daughter will not go near out of fear of being strung up for her crimes against her family. My mother stopped calling, a sure sign that she is too ashamed to face me now – translating into the likelihood that my offspring still resides in her domain, somehow – despite the piles of bullshit and destruction that she has managed in the few months she has been around.

My decision comes down to this:

I have chosen to keep it this way; to not allow myself to get sucked back into the unhealthiness again, not by anyone, even my mom. I don’t know any other people who have a parent and a child that is bad for them; so I am totally winging it and doing what feels necessary in order to keep trying to try to survive.

Fly.

After all,
so many times,
so much love,
lost on,
this heart of mine;
I’ve seen the light,
I’ve read the lines,
I’ve lost the hope,
I’ve gained insight;
nothing’s quite,
what it should’ve been,
what it was meant to be,
when your life began,
underneath,
the pretext of,
the tragic story,
of your mother’s love,
her broken heart,
her saddest song,
the hoarsened howl,
as it leaves my lungs,
listen,
this song’s for you;
these words written true,
by the mother of you,
the tail spinning blue,
nose-diving,
throttle my womb,
head-on collision,
ran straight into,
my very worst fears,
as each one comes true,
nothing for it,
can’t ignore it,
may as well,
dive willingly into:
the losing battlefield,
my life has come to,
can’t look back,
won’t turn around,
for one last look,
at who,
you’ve grown into,
I’ve primed your wings,
I’ve tried my best,
to maintain your roots;
I’ve stroked your ego,
I’ve broken my back,
I’ve jumped through,
every hoop;
fly, fly
little blue-bird,
fly away,
and don’t fly home,
until you’re true.