The Birthday Call

“Bring me to my knees” was written because my mother did not call me on my birthday.  I will not try nor do I feel the need to justify my feelings about this but I have gained a lot of insight and I want to share.  If you have followed the blog you already know my history of neglect and childhood sexual trauma.

As a child living with my grand mother every birthday the only thing I really wanted was acknowledgement by my mother.  A phone call would have sufficed or a card would have been even better, but no calls or cards ever came.

I don’t have the words to explain how unimportant I felt.  It did not matter what party I had or gifts I had received, no call from her said I did not matter to any body especially my mother.  In therapy I learned to ask for what I wanted so I explained to my mother in my mid thirties how her behavior made me feel.  She started from then on at least calling me on my birthday.

This year that I turned Fifty was a big deal for me because I have survived and thrived.  There was a lot of discussion about what I was going to do for the big 50 born day and for many reasons I just wanted to be away from home.  The main reason being I did not want to spend any energy pretending every thing is okay with our family.

I was concerned that maybe something was seriously wrong with her because I had come to expect the call.  When I called to ask about her well-being she told me she did not forget.  She just did not call.

I hung up the phone and started to cry.  I was the little bare footed five-year old all alone in a dark roach infested apartment by herself with no food crying for her mother.  PTSD is horrific.

This time though I was different.  I loved my self enough to validate my own feelings.  It is okay to cry.  It is okay to feel bad about this I told myself, but it is not okay to wallow in it.  So I decided to talk about how I felt honestly with a couple of friends that I knew would just listen so I could process the feelings.

In the past I would have went straight into a deep depression feeling sorry for myself.  I used to be the queen of pity parties but I have grown.  I know not to take her behavior personally it is not now, nor has it ever been about me.  But that does not change the fact that it hurts.

I love my mother.  I want to facilitate her healing but she lacks the courage to face her demons.  So, now I find myself on my knees praying for my mother instead of praying for my self.  I pray for our healing.

I am continually striving to learn how to give more love.

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