This blog has been a space to put down my confusion to express the inexpressible.
I had to look up the word "inexpressible".
"(of a feeling) too strong to be described or conveyed in words."
"not capable of being expressed."
Perhaps I have troubles pinpointing the feelings to be expressed.
Because how do you express what empty feels like.
Or the content of hollow or nothing.
Yet full of every imaginable emotion.
The past is littered with volatile feelings and emotions.
It is like every emotion and then the vacuum of none.
Estrangement leaves a void that eclipse emotions.
Estrangement doesn't seem to have a feeling – just a desire for nothing.
So, with all that in mind. I will try and explain an incident that happened tonight.
My friend and I drive up to our volunteer garden, El Camino and three kayaks – we slide into a parking spot and an old woman is up ahead in front of us – walking with a cane. I feel her familiarity. Looking closer – I see my mother.
I sit in the car and watch – knowing she knows this car – or perhaps she has forgotten.
I shut off the engine and tell my friend. If my mother notices me/this car I will walk away.
I want zero interaction with her.
Walking slowly she approaches our garden, pauses for a beat or more – and then ambles off.
This feeling – of having a mother – who you haven't seen in 9 years and haven't talked to in 17 – is inexpressible.
It is unnatural.
What feelings are inside to be expressed – when what you want is space, distance, silence and no contact.
What you want is a permanent void.
But, you don't have that.
You have a life walking pausing being there.
This life, that gave you life – then gave you pain and did not notice – is in your world – unannounced.
One moment your world doesn't have her – and then she's there.
A ghost
A prick to the wound.
A reminder.
Slamming into each other are emotions and expressions.
She walks with a cane and denial.
I sit with reality and our history.
The years of healing, boundaries and absence has made me into a different person.
But she has missed all that.
To her, I would be the same; but just absent.
Not different.
What she would see and want to engage with is the old me.
The me who lived in denial. Her daughter. She would want to be my mom.
That me has died.
The woman who sat in the El Camino – is aware now.
She knows, feels and has healed years of pains and sorrows.
The old woman with a cane – doesn't know my pain or my sorrows.
She didn't see me tonight and didn't see me years ago.
A ghost walked by our garden tonight.
A critical part of my history and source of much heartbreaking emotions.
She was unaware I was so close.
Maybe I am the ghost.
I don't often wonder what she thinks or even if she thinks of me.
What would she do with a girl like me – unruly, strong, empowered, brave, badass, boundary setting lady.
She was haughty the last time we spoke.
Imagine, haughty towards a daughter who was abused by her husband.
Haughty is a good word.
Here is what that means. "arrogantly superior and disdainful."
The crazy makings of trying to articulate this – is the lack of accountability on her part. The lack of utter and overwhelming grief – that she hurt so many. Instead she comes 'home' to her family. Comes back to the scene of the crimes. Comes back like there is no past history of horrible memories. To her she is coming home to beauty.
This lack of remorse or even knowing what she participated in to her own children leaves me breathless and with zero desire to even entertain one minute of conversation.
I don't know what is normal for an estranged daughter who sees her mother.
But my reaction was to let the ladies know – I would walk away.
At times like these this bugs me too. I am unable to have a normal or regular reaction when I see my mother.
I am placed in an awkward pose.
Inside of me isn't a warm exciting longing loving feeling.
Inside of me feels like victim who sees their perpetrator.
I want distance and I don't want them to see me.
I don't want further pokes into my wound.
I want to protect my inner love and peace and joy.
I want to walk my joy away.
I did still have a good night.
We tended the garden.
We floated on the water.
I won't lie – thoughts came and went and I was distracted – jarred from seeing her.
I wonder at times why the universe plops her into my world.
What am I to learn.
Imagine the precision of timing it takes to have us in the same space at the exact moment of time.
Especially when we can go years without a sighting.
I did see her once years ago in my mail jeep – passing like ships in the night – I didn't slow down.
Anyway. I feel better having played with words trying to express the inexpressible.
I M Perfect lady 