With my cooking blog, my writing here has become sporadic at best. I have to say that I am loving writing with a sense of purpose and creation. It’s very fulfilling. I think in some ways I have moved away from wanting to document and just talk about me all the time. Although I do still want to, to some extent, as evidenced by this entry, heh.
I don’t know. I want to have the time and the ability to be interesting enough to sustain that kind of thing, but it became work. For me, personal blogging shouldn’t be about work. I have no designs on scoring a book deal or anything like that, so I decided to just keep this little blog open. From time to time, I’ll check in, like I am today, when the spirit moves me.
Since I last wrote, Patrick turned 26 and I turned 27. We spent a beautiful weekend in Boston. I’ve said goodbye to one of my best friends as she and her husband moved north. I’ve cooked a lot, and actually started getting a bit good at it. Although I have to admit I am a bit scared, as I am contributing quite a bit food-wise to Thanksgiving this year.
I also ended up having to cut off a metaphorical “toxic” limb: my mother. Half of me is shocked, but I think half of me secretly knew this was coming. I could go through the ins and outs of what happened exactly, but it is pointless. Years of making excuses for her to family, friends, and other loved ones, only to have it all blow up in my face was the final straw. I think what hurt the most is after our little “spat” she left me a voicemail the next morning from her, telling me “Goodbye and good luck.” Oh, and that I could pick up my wedding dress from the front desk in her building.
True to fashion, that wasn’t the last I heard from her. Accusations of displacing blame from my father to her, insults, and other fun missives filled up my voicemail for a couple of weeks. I honestly didn’t know what to say to her, so I didn’t say anything… which, in retrospect, probably drove her crazy.
Today I find myself sitting here staring at a letter I wrote to her in Microsoft Word. I tried to be as calm as possible while I wrote to her the ways in which she has finally pushed me too far. The hurt, the anger, the embarrassment… everything. I put it in the mailbox yesterday, but I keep reading it and re-reading it, hoping that these words that felt so strong yesterday will reassure me that I’ve done the right thing.
I know I have done the right thing, but re-reading this letter feels like when you stare at a word written out on a sheet of paper for so long that it doesn’t look right. It couldn’t possibly be a word. It doesn’t make sense. You know what I mean?
Things are not as they should be, but when are they ever? Instead of calling her last week when I had a major breakthrough about the wedding, I have my number changed so she can no longer call me at all.
I feel as if since I sent that letter yesterday, a part of me started holding my breath. There’s that certain frozen feeling that overcomes you in those moments where it feels like time has stopped; it’s this different kind of deafening silence, and it kind of feels like that.
My life is forever changed, and for once I am truly on my own, without my parents. It’s a loneliness I have never experienced before, and it makes me angry at myself. There are people out there who have gone through far worse than I have, with parents whose misdeeds and flaws are greater than those of my parents. I feel disgusted by this worry that maybe, just maybe, I’m being a child, complaining that mommy and daddy aren’t there anymore.
It’s been a weird few weeks, and it has left me feeling out of sorts. The highs are astronomically high with our first vacation as a couple, the wedding actually coming together, me “graduating” from college freshman to college sophomore (finally), etc. The lows, however, have just been so low. The lack of an equilibrium has been a bit difficult to deal with.
I’m trying to keep my chin up, though. I think the hardest part is going through this wedding planning thing without my mom. Without any family for that matter. Most of my bridal party isn’t here, and we’re all so exceedingly busy that it’s hard to get really involved. In addition, there have been so many changes… so it’s probably become a bit anti-climactic. I just want to be excited with someone, you know?
God, I feel so selfish about that, too.
Patrick has been amazing through all of this. The past few weeks, I have been hell on wheels, as I’ve tried to deal with everything. I’ve been snapping left and right, and he’s been this rock of support. And he’s actually into wedding planning and making decisions with me, which is nice and makes everything enjoyable. Last night, as a thank you to me, he did all the dishes and took out all the trash.
I’m not sure if there is a point to any of this. I feel like I’m in this weird limbo period. We will be getting married. We will be making a major life change next year. We will, we will, we will, etc, ad infinitum. It’s like I’m in this lull between major events.
Either way, next week starts the holiday season for us, and I couldn’t be more excited. I am looking forward to it because it is my favorite time of year, but I am also looking forward to channeling my energies towards something fun and different.