Baby Steps

My relationship with my parents has always been a complicated one. If I'm being truthful my bipolar exasperates that, as it does with my sisters, husband, kids, and in-laws. Bipolar is ugly and it has made me do ugly things. Things that perhaps some will never forgive. I honestly think that's the case with my father and one of my sisters. That's not to say that I don't have a relationship with them but it's awkward and strained, at best. I've made my peace with it and accept my responsibility in the state of those relationships. Is it hard, yes, but it is what it is. In a perfect world, everyone could see past the awful I've done due to many years of poor mental health but the world is not perfect.

This past spring the relationship with my mom came to an ugly place. I'm not here to point blame because that doesn't help anything. But at this point, we're just broken. And as anyone who's had an estrangement from a parent would understand no matter what the reasons are, it hurts...a lot. I'm sure it hurts the parent just as deeply. I'm a mom and the thought of one of my kids not wanting to speak to me fills me with emptiness. The thought of them doing something that would disappoint me so deeply that I wouldn't want to speak to them completely devastates me. And my bipolar make me analyze, then re-analyze, then think about things a bit before I analyze them once again. So that leaves me replaying all the ways I've disappointed her and all the ways she's disappointed me. It goes both ways...disappointment on both sides.

This leads to yesterday...my 43rd birthday. And being a mom, she reached out. To be honest, my first reaction was not kind. If fact, it was mean. I've spend all these years as a mother telling my children that every interaction with another human should be a kind one giving the other person the benefit of the doubt. But I didn't, instead, I was a complete asshole. So now I'm disappointed with myself once again. I allowed to let the pain to intensify because I just couldn't accept the birthday wish in the way in which it was intended; as words from a broken mother to her broken daughter letting her know that no matter what happens she loves her.  I've said for years that I've doubted her love for me and that when she did love me it was conditional but when she reached out with love, I rebuffed it. Maybe I'm more damaged than I'll ever realize. Or maybe, I'm just human.

As the day went on, I decided to be the kind person that I tell my children to be. It was hard but at the end of the day, all we can really control is how we treat others. I invited my mom to stop in to see me at work...and she did. Like every year before this one my mom shared a special moment with me on my birthday. Was it awkward? Yes. Was it strained? Yes. Did it make me cry? Um, yes...a lot. But ultimately, was it a good decision? Yes, it was. As I talked to someone who was estranged from her mother at the time of her mother's death, she reminded me that I only get one mom. While it's not perfect perhaps it can get better.

Like most people, I reflect of my successes and failures of the past year when I celebrate a birthday. What I learned on my 43rd is that sometimes the hardest things to do are the most worthwhile. For my mom to reach had to be ridiculously hard and I know, that accepting her love was extraordinarily hard but it was a step. One step at a time may be all we can do but maybe it's all we need. I know it was just a few baby steps but for those baby steps, I'm grateful.