People talk about how kids stay with you forever, how the commitment is not for 18 or 20 or 22 years. It's always. They stay with you, they follow you. You put a piece of yourself out there and that person is now walking around with part of you. You can't let them go, you don't just let be, you are always worried, they are always yours...your babies, your loves, a big part of your soul.
But, the same goes for parents. Their words, their actions, their mannerisms, their presence, their being, it all stays with you. It does not matter if they are still walking this earth or not, they stay with you. And, as hard as you try to be like them, or not be like them, you worry. Me, I worry about this a lot. Their words, actions, the way the communicate, it keeps putting a heavy weight on me.
I get a lot from mine. My crazy about clean, that's all my mom. My want to make hosts feel a part of my home, as welcome as possible, that's all her.
I get my anger from him. Damn, I tried so so hard, but it's in there. It creeps up and takes over and once the shouting and rage are brought up, I cannot back down. I also get being triggered by too loud and too much anger. It sends me into this ball of rage/silence/worry/concern/fear/fight. All of it. I get my ability to hold a grudge like it is my job. I am getting "better" but nowhere near how I should be acting.
But, you know what else I get? I get my homemade touches. I get my loud and all in self. I get the way that I love. The family I desperately wanted and needed around me. I get my love of pasta and sauce. I get my desire for a second kitchen. I get why weddings are so important. I get how family is something you throw yourself in front of a bus for. I get my stubborn and holy hell is my stubborn something no one wants to come across. I dig in, and I will do it. That has served me well and miserably in life. It is a superpower that I need to learn how to control in order to use it for good.
I get how crazy my family was and is and will always and forever be. I get to love the ease of my life because I came from hard.
I get my work ethic from them. The one that almost killed me. And yes, that's a good and bad thing, but it's so refreshing to also know that when the going gets tough, I woman up and I get tougher.
See, he wanted two girls that were delicate and fragile. He wanted two girls that needed to be taken care of. He wanted them to become mammas and that's all they did, was be a "woman" in every traditional sense of the word. What he got was something quite different and as crazy as that makes him, it makes me smile a little broader knowing this was my final word on the subject.
What he got was a DAUGHTER that works her ass to the bone. A DAUGHTER that fights. A DAUGHTER that takes care of her family in every sense of the word and has a partner, two that lean on each other a lot.
She got a daughter whose husband makes her dinner. One that makes the bed, crafts, changed diapers, woke up in the middle of the night, bathed them, does bedtime. She is amazed every day by her son-in-laws and cannot imagine why anyone would fight them on anything.
They were so insistent on a very specific future, and it did stay with me, but I went in the opposite direction.
So, no matter where they are, they are right here inside of me. The good, the bad, the ugly. And recently, it has been hard with them. I can't explain it all, but it just has. There is a lot that I am managing with the past, the today, and the tomorrow of this relationship. A lot I am questioning and trying to come to grips with. It is one day at a time, and every week something changes. I need to remember that it's okay to take a relationship one day at a time. It's not my way, I'm either all in or all out, but this one is different. This one needs to be managed differently. And, just like my babies are walking around with bits and pieces and parts of me...just like I am not whole because they took a little bit of this mama with them...they too have that, with me. And I realize more and more, they will always stay right here, with me.
