This post hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a punch to the gut. This is what happens when dreams and goals are deferred indefinitely.
I am at that crossroads of being a mother and deferring my own dreams and goals. Many days sort of blend together like Groundhog Day. Some days are brutal, especially when my kids don’t listen to a goddamned thing I say. I feel more like their help than their mother.
But I don’t want this to be my daughter after I am gone. I don’t want her to carry my burden because I didn’t deal with it. I don’t want to project my issues onto her. I am responsible for living my best life, for making my dreams come true.
But here’s the thing about dreams. They don’t die quietly. Hers certainly didn’t. They tortured her with visions of a life un-lived and she stuffed them down and pushed them aside and put everyone else’s needs before her own and she drank to dull the sharp edges of pain and longing.
This is also why I write a blog no one reads. I always wanted to be a writer in some capacity, even a failed one, I always wanted to write. I don’t know if I am a good writer or not, just like I didn’t know if I was going to be an exceptional mother, except that I would figure it out when the opportunity presented itself.
When someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, the first answer that popped in my head is ‘writer’, so I know that is the right answer. Writing this blog is me being accountable for and executing my dreams and goals.
I don’t want my daughter to go “shopping for the best therapist” in town when I am gone, because I projected all of my shit onto her.
Source: Things my mother never did.