Tag: Relationships

A New Plan

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

You know when you sit down to write your blog or finish it, and you have a plan…a perfectly good plan. Maybe even an interesting plan (you hope)…and instead of following the plan, which is what you’ve focused on, your writing takes you here….

When I was 29, I was in the middle of a divorce. My husband at the time had informed me he was gay…well, that makes it sound like we sat down and talked about it. He informed me by having affairs. Although he said a one-night stand was not an affair. I’m not sure the label really mattered. We were in a marriage counselors office, and the pastor of our church was there with us. I don’t remember why he was there, but he was a friend. The counselor began the session by asking a question, “Can we all agree that at this point (fill in name here) has not acted on his feelings?” I said yes right away. I can’t remember if my husband said yes or nothing. When she got to the pastor, he said he couldn’t answer the question. This is where you’d inject the Debbie Downer music. Seriously, where does a counseling session go after that. I don’t remember anything anyone said the rest of the hour. On the way home he confirmed that he had in fact had an affair…or one night stand or whatever the fuck you want to call it. He didn’t volunteer the information, but he did answer me honestly when asked.

Our separation began that day. I told him he had to go until he decided what he wanted. He didn’t think he wanted to be married anymore…at least not to me. Now if you’re thinking, “They’re both gay?” That’s true we are. I’ve written about it before. Look at my blog post “Gay by Design” and you’ll get your questions answered…or email me. I won’t go back through the whole story now because that’s not where I’m headed…at least I don’t think so. I’ve been surprised once already today.

So, we separated. He, thinking this was a short-term problem, started sleeping on the couch at his office. It was a family run business, and his mom was his boss…and a lovely person. I don’t know why he thought this would be a quick reconciliation, but he did. I was at home with a 4-year-old, a 2-year-old, and a 4-month-old infant. So, I was bored. Lol…that would be hysterical, right!?

All of this was taking place in Colorado. I graduated from the University of Colorado, got married, and then made my home there. I always said Chicago was a good place to be from…and I was. I went to junior high and high school in Naperville, the fastest growing suburb of Chicago at the time. Before my wedding, my parents moved back to St. Louis, where my sister and I were born and where my parents grew up. Now the scene is set….

So, I was talking to my mom one day…on the phone of course…and I was stressed. Have you ever noticed how all your children need you NOW as soon as you pick up the phone? It’s a law of nature. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but my mom wanted me to move back to St. Louis and live with them. She wanted me to move “home.” I told her that Colorado was my home now and that I wasn’t going to move. I would not take my kids away from their dad…plus it seemed like a bad idea, although I know she was offering me help. I said no and she said, “That’s okay. You won’t make it out there by yourself and you’ll end up back here.” Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say? That was what I thought but I said nothing. That moment is seared into my memory, so I feel confident that this was her exact quote. Need I say this was not the best time of my life.

I was stunned. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. In my mind I wondered if she wanted me to fail. And why would she? I got off the phone fast. I was devastated. Who says that to their daughter? Their daughter going through a divorce with 3 children under the age of 5? Why would she say that to me? My self-confidence was already at an all time low. And this wasn’t just about me. I had 3 little precious humans looking to me for security and answers to why daddy didn’t want to be married anymore. They depended on me to make everything okay for them even after their world was turned upside down. If I was okay, they knew they’d be okay. I was about as far from okay as you can be but my 3 little babies depending on me was more than enough motivation. Children take their cues from us, so I needed to fake it until I really was okay again.

So, we survived and lived happily ever after…yay. That’s not the point of the story. I’ve been reading about trauma and core language…as in what your core beliefs are that you communicate to yourself. Turns out I have a core message rumbling around in this head telling me that I won’t make it. I’ll never make it…I will always fail. At what specifically? Everything. The things that make you “successful.” In my family, a career and money were the main factors in success. A job people would ohhhh and ahhhh at and enough money to set yourself apart from others…providing a feeling of superiority. Being a “have” and not a “have not.”

Divorced with 3 babies…not a “have” for sure. A degree in psychology…but I “don’t know anything about psychology.” A master’s degree in counseling…but that wasn’t from a “real” school. A child protection worker…let someone else do that. Law degree…check. (I got one). A lawyer representing abused and neglected children…was I afraid to make money? I never even mentioned my last master’s degree. No point. Developed and ran a mindfulness program for young children…a what? So many fails. So many “not enoughs” … not even close.

I’ve heard the definition of sin as “missing the mark.” I think that may be the definition of my life according to my parents, not the sin part, but always missing the mark. Never quite got it right. Never making it…according to them.

But here’s the thing, my thoughts, my actions, my beliefs, my feelings are mine. All mine. They are my choices. No one else makes those choices for me. So, when I hear negative messages about myself, I have a choice…believe it or ignore it. Now when I was younger, it didn’t feel like much of a choice. Kids, even adults, believe what their parents tell them…because parents are supposed to know. Right? It took a long time to learn that just because they said something and they believed it didn’t make it true. It makes it their opinion. That’s all. Certainly, they’re entitled to their opinion…I wish they had not shared them so freely.

But now, now I’m a grown ass women (as my daughter loves to say) and I make my own choices. I decide what I believe about me…not my parents, not anyone else. Even though my parents are dead I still hear their voices in my head. Repeating messages of the past. The question now is how I respond to those voices, theirs and others. Everyone has an opinion. If I go along blindly with whatever the opinion of the day is about me then I abdicate my responsibility to myself. That would be failing…not making it…not succeeding. My success is not something I owe anyone, except myself. And I am the only one who knows what success looks like for me.

We become what we believe…what we think. With our thoughts we create the world. That’s why individuals can experience the same event and each interpret it differently and respond to it differently. We see differently because we think differently. We see differently because the framework through which we see the world and make sense of it is unique to each of us. We all have a story of what is real or not real, true or false, accepted or rejected. Everything we see, hear, feel, or experience goes through that story…the narration of our life…according to us.

I can be taught to believe certain things. I can be told all sorts of stories. And I can experience a lifetime of challenges or successes. Ultimately, the only thing that’s real and true for me is what I tell myself. What I believe is what I make real. That is what is true for me. I am the only person with the power to change the story that I have created about my life. Only me. I created it. I can change it. It is a tremendous act of self love to tell myself the truth…to tell yourself the truth. It requires awareness on my part. To know myself well enough to know what’s true. And the wisdom to know that what’s true today may not be true tomorrow…because I am always changing. You are always changing.

I want to be more…more kind, compassionate, loving, understanding, flexible, open, present, aware. I want that for me. I want that for you. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Love yourself enough to know yourself. Love other people enough for them to feel safe in sharing who they are. And believe them when they show you. Whatever the question is, love is the answer…always.

Three Things

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Now here it is, already 2025…20 days in and I am still not ready. The year went so fast and so many things did not go how I planned…I hate it when that happens…and so I have been dragging my ass into 2025, a little bit kicking and screaming. My resistance reminds me of a quote I read, from someone, that said, “I never let go of anything that didn’t have claw marks on it.” That is an exact description of me…written by someone who does not even know me. If you read my blogs, you are nodding your head right now because you know. You know it’s true. If you don’t follow me, see what you’re missing? Also, it’s time to start…Now! Please.

One of the things that did not turn out the way I planned was the presidential election. I was ready for a President Harris. I feel like I am living in backwards world, where being a dishonest, arrogant, hateful, convicted felon paves the way for you to become President and being an honest, compassionate, and intelligent woman gets you nowhere. So, as the inauguration is taking place, I am reminded of 3 things I did immediately after the results of the election:

I joined the ACLU and signed up to volunteer.

I bought all my grandchildren, (ages 11 to 20) a copy of the US Constitution and told them to read it. I instructed them to learn what their rights are because they may not have them much longer.

Finally, I told my son and his fiancé to get married now. They want to have a big, beautiful wedding and that is a celebration I am eager to be a part of. Planning that takes time…and I’m not sure how much time there is after January 20th. I suggested they get the marriage license now and get legally married while they still can. The supporters of Project 2025, with the cooperation of the Supreme Court, aim to reverse marriage equality. To which I’ve been known to say, “Just try and get my marriage license from me.” I don’t think you can un-marry people or nullify marriages…not legally anyway. But that may not matter. Clarence Thomas has already said that marriage equality needs to be “revisited” by the high court. There is an Idaho case working its way to the Supreme Court right now that seeks to redefine marriage as between one man and one woman. That is happening as I write.

Of my many grandchildren, one said she would keep the constitution in her purse, and one sat down and started reading it…I don’t play favorites but come on, he sat down and started reading immediately. I am a proud grandmother.

Most importantly, my son and his now husband got legally married on December 29th! I am so happy for them and so relieved. I’m not sure if straight people can understand how important it is to be legally married. If getting married was a given for you, I guess you might take it for granted. But if you have been denied that right, it is huge…HUGE! To be recognized as a married person…no special rights, just equality. It is something I did not think I would see in my lifetime. To have your marriage vows honored for their importance in your life and in our society. Being a family…legally a family. That is important shit right there. That is a right I fought for and that is a right I will continue to fight for. Maybe the President will find out that someone in his life, that he loves, is gay and he will reconsider. Or maybe he will grow a heart…him, the Tin Man and the Grinch. Maybe he will learn some kindness and equity. Maybe he will grow to see beyond dollar signs and what benefits him and his cohort of billionaires. Maybe, maybe, maybe…unlikely, I fear.

So where am I going with all of this? I wish I knew. I am tired, frustrated, and terrified. The future seems more unknown than normal…and more out of control. So, what to do, besides meditate, pray, volunteer, give money, educate myself and others, and hope. It seems like conditions are ripe in this country for hate, violence, domination, and fascism to run rampant over the rights of the non-elite. Even President Biden warned of a growing oligarchy right here at home…just like other autocracies. Fuck.

We all know the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” In some ways this is killing me…killing all of us…our collective spirits for sure. What I have always believed about this country and the rights guaranteed to us in our constitution has been completely blow the fuck up. And although they, the new autocracy, may not see it now, this will destroy their supporters as well. I fear we are all headed over a cliff, many voluntarily, and most leaving claw marks as they try to resist…as I try to resist. This is a proper place for claw marks. You cannot destroy other people and be unaffected. You cannot create bigotry, fear, and hatred and remain undamaged…or untwisted. And there are some fucking twisted people running things now.

Although I do believe that difficult circumstances can make us stronger, I prefer to believe that what doesn’t kill us makes us kinder…or it can make us kinder. We must cooperate to become kinder…we have to learn from our circumstances and allow ourselves to seek kindness as a character trait. I must understand, we must understand, that what we do affects other people and the choices others make impact us too. We do not live or move or act in a bubble. Our actions have consequences. Our inaction has consequences as well.

I have been re-reading The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. In the book he discusses the term “domestication” which seems particularly relevant right now. From birth we are taught what to believe and how to act. We are rewarded for “good” behavior and punished for “bad.”  We learn to seek rewards and fear punishment. We learn our lessons and bury our own opinions or beliefs. We are afraid of the consequences of disagreeing or forging our own path. And so, tamed and trained we become compliant. Silent and compliant.

If ever there was ever a time in our history not to blindly follow, comply or agree, it is surely today. Today is the day to wake up. Wake up to the new form of domestication we are experiencing in subtle and not so subtle ways. The push to doubt what we see with our own eyes. To accept lies as the truth, “alternative facts” right? To hate anyone who is not like “us.” “Us” being white, wealthy, heterosexual, Christian, republican, and if you are male, all the better.

As I have said before I am trying to live “off the edge.” The edge being a chronic, low-level anxiety that seems to be my neutral…waiting for the next catastrophic or traumatizing event to occur. Today is not the day to lose my feel for the edge. For me, our nation is on the edge. The edge of what exactly I’m not sure…although it does not feel like anything good.

The best I have to offer myself or anyone else today is to take a deep breath. Breathe deeply and feel yourself grounded wherever you are. In this one moment, in that one breath, I am okay. For one breath you are okay. That is all we have, one breath at a time…for the next 4 years. We must wake up and remain awake even when other forces strengthen their attempts at domestication. No one gets to decide what I believe. They may have when I was younger but not now. I am who I am. I believe what I know to be true…what I see with my own eyes and what I hear with my own ears, what I investigate, study, and learn. Guided by my spirituality and the golden rule.

I cannot come off the edge today, or even in the near future, but I can remain attentive and aware of what is happening…in me, around me, and in the world. I can be aware and engaged. I can continue to breathe and be engaged…even when it’s hard…even when it sucks. That is all I have for now…breathe, stay grounded, stay engaged, and most importantly, allow this world to make me kinder…to make us kinder. Even when it seems impossible. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Choose love…every time. Love will win. It always does. And be kind…please. Now more than ever.

Difficult Teachers

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

I was catching up on the tv show “The Good Doctor” earlier this week. This is the final season so I guess it’ll be extra dramatic…as if a drama needs more drama. Anyway, a main character was murdered. He was killed in an anti-Semitic, anti-gay hate crime. Being a card-carrying member of the LGBTQ+ community that was difficult to watch…even when it’s not real…probably because it is real. So, Asher died and there was very sad funeral. All the people were crying, and I started crying. Pretty soon I was sobbing…and sobbing.

Have I mentioned that I’ve been having a hard time grieving for my parents? I guess mostly for my mom. I have such mixed-up feelings about her. I’ve been pretty shut down…sad but shut down. I feel confused about grieving for someone I loved so much but was angry at and deeply hurt by. I have unresolved feelings about her and I’m not sure how to resolve them or come to terms with them…or even just how to not allow her to hurt me anymore. I realize she’s gone but I have an excellent memory…and she was a powerful figure in my life.

I read a story about Buddha where he talked about a personal attendant of his who aggravated him and made him angry. His attendant was difficult to deal with. Buddha had the choice to send him away, but he didn’t. He said that it’s the difficult people in our lives who are our best teachers. Those are the people who challenge us to really look at ourselves honestly. My mom was definitely one of those people for me.

Growing up I didn’t want to be like her. I was afraid of her. I think I developed my personality in reaction to her…or reaction against her. I am who I am in large part because of her. I had an idea of who I thought she was, or how I thought she was, and I was determined not to be like her at all.

I never thought I was much like my dad either until my parents lived with us. I have some the the same quirky habits he had. My wife would say annoying not quirky. If he wanted something to eat, he’d tell you, but he’d also tell you exactly how he wanted it. For example, chicken noodle soup in a cup, not a bowl, with a chicken leg in the cup so the soup would warm it up. Or 3 crackers with a small spoon of cheese spread, and 3 olives. My mom got so mad at him for that. I got mad at him for mansplaining to me how to clean up my dogs’ vomit…so I understand the frustration. When my wife offers to make me a sandwich, I give instructions too…very specific instructions. That is why she doesn’t make me sandwiches anymore. I get that.

In a song from the musical, “Wicked” called “For Good.” It’s Elphaba and Glenda singing about their friendship. When they first met, they hated each other…there’s a song called “What Is This Feeling” and what they feel for each other is loathing. But I digress…the change song talks about people coming into our lives for a reason, which we may or may not understand. They come to teach us something. We are led to people who will help us to grow. The women say that because of their friendship they’ve been changed for good…as in permanently. They question whether they’ve been changed for the better but definitely for good. At the end of the song, they say that because they knew each other, they have been changed for the better…and for good.

I became who I am because of my parents. I was definitely changed for good…and I think for the better. There’s an ebb and flow in relationships…all relationships. There are times we’re closer to someone and times we feel more distant. Sometimes we need the proximity and sometimes we need the space. Relationships are constantly changing and constantly in motion. That continuous flow changes us. Rocks are shaped by the movement of water. Water wore through rock over millions of years and as a result we have the Grand Canyon.

People are shaped by movement as well. The movement of negotiating relationships…all of them. Personalities rub against each other and the rough edges of who we are, the things we cling to smooth out over time. They change us for good. We are not the same person we were at the beginning of the relationship. They also change us for the better if we are intentional about our relationships and our interactions. We become more of who we were meant to be…we become more truly who we are.

Some people believe that we chose the life and family we’re born into long before we are ever born. Maybe I did. Maybe I chose all the pain and challenges I was born into. I know that because I knew my parents, as my parents, I was changed for good, and I was changed for the better. I am a better person because of them.

Let’s be real…we are shaped and sculpted by all the relationships we have in our lives. And we are a force that shapes others as well. Let’s lead with love in all of our interactions. Let’s be aware of what we’re doing and how we are impacting the people we come into contact with each day. Let’s love to change people for good, and because they knew us, for better. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people…let’s love them well.

Where She Go?

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

When our soon to be 13-year-old grandson, Anthony, was a toddler, and he couldn’t find something, he’d say, “Where she go?” It was funny and adorable and not usually about a person…just something missing. He’d put his arms out with his palms up and turn his head side to side, and look around quizzically as he said, “Where she go?” I’m not sure why it was all “she.” It might have been as simple as him having a lot of women in his life. His two grandmas took care of him every day, and he had two other grandmothers, as well as, two sisters, and of course his mom. There were a lot of “she” in his life.

Yesterday I was sending out letters telling banks and creditors that my mom died. I was looking at the death certificates for both of my parents and I felt panic…where she go? How can she be gone? It’s the panic a child feels when they wander away from their mom in a store and when they turn around, they don’t see her. Where she go? Where the fuck are my parents asks the lost child and the panicked adult? Now I’m not wondering if they’re in heaven or hell…I don’t actually believe in either. I mean how could they possibly have death certificates? Only dead people have those. Why can’t I find her? She’s definitely missing. 

I packed up my mom’s clothes and have them loaded up for a donation today. All that’s left is pictures and memories. I just typed that sentence and remembered Jim Croce had a song in the 70’s called “Photographs and Memories.” My sister always said I liked sad music. She might be right…I did like his music…and it is kind of sad. Pictures and memories are what I have left of my parents. They are what remains for me to remember them. It doesn’t feel like enough…at least not today.

I feel untethered. Set adrift to…I have no fucking idea where. That feels a little risky…not knowing where I’m going. I’m 63 years old. I have plans and goals. I have a family. We moved to Florida to retire. I know where I’m going. I don’t know where I’m going with my parents…or my mom. There were years that I did not see my parents or talk to them, from 50 to 61, although I’m not sure why. I’m sure they had their reasons; I just don’t know what they were. I guess it doesn’t matter now. It seems that feeling untethered is a familiar feeling after all.

There were other times my parents and I didn’t communicate for a period of years, but the 50 to 61 period started on my 50th birthday. My mom remembered birthdays and she always called. Sometimes she’d send a card, but she always called…but on that day she didn’t call. No call and no card…I was in trouble. Why? No clue. I called my mom a week or two later, but she didn’t answer and didn’t return my call. That went on for several weeks…calling, no answer, leaving a message, no return call. And then I stopped calling. All I was doing was hurting myself by hoping she’d answer the phone…but she never did. And I quit trying. 

Maybe I should have persisted with my calls. I don’t know. I didn’t want to beg to be their daughter…and that’s how it felt. Like when your child comes up to you, usually while you’re on the phone, and pokes you repeatedly in the leg saying, “Mom! Mom! Mom!” Because all urgent matters take place while you’re on the phone. All my unanswered calls felt like me jumping around and poking her leg, and still getting nothing from her. I felt unwanted, or worse…like I didn’t exist. That’s when I felt like an orphan. From 50 to 61 I was an orphan. I was an abandoned child…although not exactly a child…not understanding where my parents went. They disappeared from my life.

For a long time, I thought there must really be something wrong with me because my own mom didn’t want me…didn’t love me. I felt like I must be defective somehow. Living on the island of misfit toys, or misfit daughters. What was so wrong with me that she didn’t want me? 

The difficulty with my mom was that I never knew where I stood with her. I would think things were fine and then she’d be mad at me and stop answering my calls. So, I’d call and call and call until finally she would answer the phone. She’d be cold as I ice, and I’d have to apologize and apologize some more until she’d finally let it go…but it was never gone. My mom remembered every detail of every time someone hurt her. She was easily angered or offended. And she kept score. The difficulty was I frequently didn’t know what I had done wrong. So, my mom would be mad until she wasn’t and then expect everything to go back to normal. If she was okay about something, I was expected to be okay too. Her feelings ruled.

The crazy thing in all of this is that if she had just told me that there was problem, we could have talked about it and hopefully resolved whatever the issue was. Instead, I tried to figure it out and when I couldn’t I stopped trying. It took me many years and lots of dollars in therapy to reach a place where I could see that I was not the cause of all of the problems in her life. She was the only one who could have changed anything…and she didn’t. I don’t know if she didn’t want to or if she didn’t know how…maybe she didn’t care enough to try. I don’t know and I’ll never know.

Now, let’s be real…what is my fucking point? I wish I knew. I still feel shocked that both of my parents are gone. All the years that I didn’t see them, I felt rejected. Like I didn’t matter enough for them to try. Try to see me or talk to me and tell me what was on their mind. Sometimes what I think I missed most about my parents during my 50’s was the “idea” of them. Perhaps more accurately, the “ideal” of them. Maybe that’s what I miss now too. The ideal of a mom…where she would love me just for being me. I felt the most loved when I graduated from law school. They both liked that for sure. I wanted to be loved just for being their daughter, not for an achievement. 

It’s easy to look back and question or wonder…second guess myself and my parents. I’m not sure how helpful that is. I don’t need to analyze my mom as much as I need to understand myself in relationship to her. Who was I with her and who am I without her? What habits or patterns did I develop in reaction to her? I frequently felt the need to protect myself when I was with her. How did that impact my relationship with her? How did it affect my relationships with other people? Does it still affect them? It all feels confusing right now. There’s a mountain of feelings and experiences to sort through. 

What I do know is that I can always love better. I’m guessing that my parents were hurt and I’m not sure how well I responded with love. And love isn’t all kisses and butterflies…it’s having hard conversations and being completely honest. It’s seriously clearing the air. Not allowing a lifetime of grievances to stack up so that even small things become a bigger deal than they need to be. 

What I know is that I tried. I did my best. I’m guessing they did too. What I’m left pondering is how I could have loved better? How could I have loved more honestly? More authentically and with more vulnerability? How could I have loved with less judgment? How can I stay grounded so that I can be my best most loving self all the time? 

I am grateful for the last couple weeks with my mom. While she was happy and relaxed, we loved each other. I know she loved me the best she could, and I loved her too. She knew I loved her. And in the end, all that matters is how we love people. So, we need to get busy loving people. Because love wins…every time.

Does Absence Really Make the Heart Grow Fonder?

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder” is a well-known saying. We say it when we’re going to be away from someone, and it feels difficult. It’s going to be hard to be apart. It’s going to be scary. We say it to comfort ourselves and convince ourselves that everything will be fine. This past year, my wife has had to live between Colorado and Florida because she still has a job in Colorado. So, half of the year she was there and half of the year she was here in Florida with me. During that time, I thought a lot about absence and whether it makes the heart grow fonder. I’ve decided absence on its own doesn’t really do anything, except maybe, make us forget.

Just being absent doesn’t automatically expand our heart or deepen our connection. While my wife was gone, six to eight weeks at a time, I did things to remind her what she means to me. We FaceTimed every day, at least once, and sent texts throughout the day. I sent her cards, flowers, cinnamon bears, words of love songs, and I wrote her a love poem. I wanted her to know she was always on my mind. It occurs to me that what I did was make myself present…instead of absent. My heart grew fonder but not because of absence. My heart grew fonder because of effort and intention. I intended to remain as present as possible in her life while she was away. I made the effort to make that happen. So maybe, absence met with intention and effort makes the heart grow fonder.

On its own, I think absence, rather than making the heart grow fonder, makes us forget. Someone who has hurt you is no longer in your life, a difficult situation has ended, an abusive situation you’ve been removed from for years – years without contact with certain people or situations and we think we’re healed…the wounded part of us is all better. But is it? Not confronting something doesn’t make it healed. It makes it repressed or buried, possibly festering from lack of attention. Sometimes the absence of something doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, even though we think it does.

I have had a challenging relationship with my parents, mostly my mom, throughout my life – I sometimes think just the sight of me or the mention of my name pisses her off. It’s scary, at least to me. There was a period of time that I didn’t have contact with my family…about twelve years. I missed them. I thought of them often, especially on special occasions. I spent holidays with my own family – my wife, all of our children and grandchildren. Some holidays we went to Texas to celebrate with my wife’s extended family. And I missed mine.

After twelve years, I saw a picture of my parents on Facebook. I was startled by how much they had changed. They looked so much older and more fragile than I remembered them. I started thinking about their eventual passing. I didn’t want to have regrets about our relationship. Regrets that I hadn’t seen them at least one more time. So, I wrote a letter to my parents. I told them that Gayle and I had taken two of our grandkids to see The Harlem Globetrotters for a birthday gift and they loved it. I remembered them taking me to see them and I was thrilled…Meadowlark Lemon and Curly Neal. It was the best. I thanked them for that memory. I thanked them for taking me to see The Carpenters and John Denver. As an adult I realize that may not have been their first choice of things to do, but they did it anyway. I told them I appreciated that. That letter was the catalyst for reconnecting. 

I sent the letter when I felt like I didn’t need or expect any response. I didn’t want my letter to have an agenda. I also knew if I had expectations, I could end up hurt. My mom called me a week or so after receiving my letter. We had a nice conversation and I caught her up on my kids and grandkids. A couple months later, I drove with my daughter and her two kids to see my parents. We were in town for a few days and while we were there, we stayed in a hotel so everyone would have space for quiet and relaxation. It had been twelve years after all. Our visit went great. We talked and laughed and spent time looking at old photo albums. Remember when those were a thing? We left on great terms, and I continued contact with my parents through daily FaceTime calls.

Things with my parents were great, so great in fact that we invited them to move to Florida with us so they could be with family. We have wonderful extended family in St. Louis, and they have their own parents and families to care for. We wanted my parents with us so that we could take care of them. My hope was that they would never need a nursing home because we would have them with us, in our home. It was so perfect…in my head. My mom really wanted to be with us in Florida and convinced my dad, who acquiesced. My sister lives in New York and I had been in Colorado and my parents needed more contact than either of us could manage long distance. So, look out Florida here we come…turns out, right back where we started from.

We had so much fun when we first got here. We tried new restaurants and took drives along the Gulf. We laughed all the time. Then the honeymoon ended. Fuck. My mom was depressed and mean. We moved May first and by Mother’s Day I was sure I had asked someone who hates me to move in with me. She was verbally abusive to my dad and me. She said hateful things to both of us. I felt like she had stored up every negative thought she ever had about me, and once we were in Florida, felt like she needed to vomit all of it at me…usually while yelling it at me. I found out things she thought about me that really crushed me. I wish I could un-hear them but no such luck.

We forget. So, is this the forgive and forget type of forgiveness? I don’t think so. This is the I want the ideal in my head so much that I choose not to remember the past. I ignore what I know to be true. I ignore my perceptions and people’s warnings. This is the choice to ignore what’s real until reality smacks you with a two by four and knocks you flat on your ass…my ass. It didn’t feel like a choice. It felt real. I wanted it to be real. I wanted to belong to my parents, especially my mom. I wanted her to want me…to love me…to like me…me the person. But that’s not real. It’s not the experience of my life, especially here in Florida.

I came to realize that what I missed was the idea of my family, my mom. The mom who’s there after school with homemade cookies and milk. The mom who wants to hear all about your day. The mom who loves you as a daughter but also really likes you as a person. The mom who is proud of you just because of who you are, not because you went to law school. I had built up an ideal family in my mind and that’s what I was looking for. That’s what I thought I had gotten after a twelve-year separation. I thought I had achieved the “just moving forward” with my mom. 

Let me be real…it’s time for more therapy. I have personally assisted in the successful career of several therapists in my life. Doesn’t seem like therapy could hurt me. I’m already hurt. It’s time for me to separate myself from my mom, not physically, but emotionally. Everything she says hurts me and so I feel raw most of the time. I have to find a way to keep her messages out of me. Just because she says it doesn’t make it true. How long before I know that at my core?

I was so seduced by how well things went before we moved that I doubted myself and my memory of life with my parents. I wanted the seduction to be the truth, even though I should have known it wasn’t. I wanted to be able to just move forward. I forgot that my mom lives in the past. I forgot that she’s moody and depressed and won’t acknowledge it, let alone talk about it. I also let myself forget how volatile my parent’s relationship was…the fighting, screaming, throwing and breaking things, and name calling. My mom remembers every grievance she ever had against my dad. We lived in her reality of two or three stories that were supposed to show me that my dad was an ass. These incidences were from fifty years ago.

And here’s some reality, I didn’t really forget. I was in denial. Fuck. I didn’t want my memories and experiences to be real. I wanted to be wrong. It was easier to just blame myself. And so, I did. I blamed myself for every problem in my home. I rearranged the past to make it more comfortable for myself. It was so much easier for everything to me my fault. Simpler if I was the problem. If I was the problem before, and now I wasn’t, then everything would be good, right? Not so much. Just because it’s easier doesn’t make it true. I was thinking all sunshine and rainbows and instead got a hurricane of reality. The good news is the hurricane woke me up. The bad news is that I ignored everything I knew from my childhood and put myself right back in the center of the storm.

Absence didn’t make my heart grow fonder. It made my heart forget. I forgot. I tried to undo the past in my mind by blaming myself for all the problems. I allowed myself to be naïve about my parents, especially my mom. I wanted things to be good between us so fucking bad that I became blind and a bit deaf. I saw things as either/or instead of both/and. My mother can be kind and she can be mean. I can love my mom and still see who she is. Conflicting things can exist at the same time. It’s called cognitive dissonance. It’s holding two conflicting thoughts in your mind at the same time. Personally, I call it a mind fuck, but I’ll go with the official term. 

My thoughts about my mom are almost always conflicting. I remind myself that no one is one thing. No one is bad or good. We are all both. We are all shades of gray, and we change all the time. My history is to discount information that I don’t like and cling to what do. It’s time for me to do some rethinking and unlearning. I need to unlearn what I grew up believing was acceptable and rethink responsibility. I am not responsible for what went on in my house. My parents were the parents. And regardless of what someone else believes about me, it’s what I believe that matters. I decide who I am. I decide who I become.

Absence, on its own, is neutral. What we tell ourselves about absence is the story we create and the story we live. Instead of absence, I focus on presence. I need to remain present in my own life and in the lives of the people around me. I can be present even when I am physically absent. I can remain present in moments of cognitive dissonance. I can manage conflicting ideas and thoughts. And I can love imperfection…in others and myself. I can love humanness. I can love boundaries that allow me to be loving and safe. 

I live a life of intention and effort. I am thoughtful in my words and actions. I choose presence. I choose honesty and vulnerability. I choose moving forward. I choose love. In the end all that matters is how we love people…so I choose to love well.