Monday Blah's

I have nothing special to blog about, but I feel as though I must take what is "on my heart" and put it into words.

I was watching Brothers & Sisters this evening - I love this show. It is the modern day Waltons and deals with a plethora of family issues. Since I struggle daily with family issues - this show appeals to me. It is not the same as my family situation, but it touches something very deep within me. Identity, validation, denial, avoidance, love, invasiveness, frustration, mistrust - any way around it, I like the portrayal of this TV family.

One of the conversations tonight struck a chord - "You don't value me as a mother." It is true. I do not value my mother as a mother. I believe I have a value for her as a person who has talents and natural abilities. She has a maternal nature, but it played out negatively for me...or rather on me. I don't remember the good times as much as I remember all the negative. I have tried. 5 and 1/2 half years, I have tried to remember the good. It just doesn't come as quickly as her condescending tone. If I remember the good times, I remember when I was on stage. She was always happy with me during those moments. But the negative happened whenever I wasn't on stage. How do I claw my way through the muck and mire of those memories to find enough positive to create some level of value for her? I want to. In order to do this, am I expected to forget about the other parts of the relationship?

Let me stop and mention my dad....passive non-violent alcoholic. He was a good dad, not great. Not a great husband. He took care of our material needs and some of the emotional. He was drunk every night and passed out by 9pm - what kind of dad do you get with that behavior? Not much. He was the cook of our family and made sure the bills were paid. He cleaned up my mother's messes when she bounced checks all over town and swapped banks like water b/c no one wanted to do business with her. He kept the vehicles running, the fridge full, and our bellies sustained. It was a life of survival. He helped us live from day to day. He died 8 years ago this November, and I don't think I miss him that much anymore.

She made sure we had a ride to/from school, a cheering section in the audience, clothes that looked semi-fashionable, the most beautiful birthday cakes, Sunday lunch after church, and she made sure we went to church.

I am like both of them. Probably more mother than father. And yet, I have difficulty finding value in either of them. Probably more father than mother.

I will find it. One day. It is within me.