From the way things started out this morning (read Jev's entry for more details), I thought today might be a complete and total loss. But somehow, we managed to work out our problems as always, and the day got better.
Looking back, it was actually a pretty good day, if you don't count my raging insecurities that kept trying to convince me I wasn't worth Jev's time. He spent his lunch break online, talking to me while we watched TV together, then came right back again after his afternoon classes, and except for running off for a bit for dinner, he spent the entire evening with me, as well. I'm not sure if he was trying to make up for being gone so much over the weekend, but whatever his intent, I do appreciate it.
I tried to be nice to myself, too... I went back to Mary Engelbreit's site again to see if perhaps the links to the coloring pages had been updated (I stumbled over them last week, but the links on the activities page were incorrect), and I noticed that there was a site map page; sure enough, both the coloring pages were linked there, so I fired up the printer and gave myself something to do.
Coloring is relaxing.... like cross stitching, it gives your hands something to do, and gives your mind the freedom to wander. I spent a good two hours coloring the first picture (I was using colored pencils, so it went a little slow), and then after Jev headed off to afternoon classes, I fired up Paint Shop Pro and opened the image in there, and played artist with my drawing tablet. It's nice to relax and be a kid sometimes. Especially when fixing it when you go out of the lines is as easy as clicking the undo button. And when you have neato toys like Filter Factory filters and Blade Pro to do things you just can't do with crayons.
This evening when Jev climbed up into bed, I turned off the light and the monitor, but I stayed here in my chair; I didn't want to chance a repeat of last night. I felt like I owed Jev some babbling about what was on my mind, since that was what he'd been hoping for last night, and so I told him the short version of my mom's adoption search. I wish I were better at storytelling... orally, that is. Even with an audience of one, it's hard for me to do; even if I'm reading a book, I trip over words.
It's so much easier just to sit and type. My fingers are slower than my mind, so I suppose that gives me time to think and put my words in order before I put them down on the page, or screen. When I talk though, my mouth gets ahead of the rest of me, and I trip over my words and don't know what to say, and it makes me feel very foolish. As self-conscious as I already am, that makes it even harder for me to get up in front of people.
Mom often pokes fun at me for not being able to speak well, and that serves only to make me more self-conscious and nervous, and prone to make more mistakes. I really have to wonder if she knows that she's making things worse. I suppose I could try to tell her, but I'd probably trip over my words doing it, and she'd just make fun of me again. I don't know why she can't see that I have feelings, just like any other human being.
The question just popped into my mind, Do I want to get my degree so I can show it to Mom and say, "So there!" or do I want to do this for myself? I don't think that a truthful answer could be so black and white... yes, there is a part of me that wants to show her a nice framed paper claiming that I'm a Bachelor of Somethingorother, and be able to think if not say, "I'm a lot smarter than you ever gave me credit to my face for."
See... Mom sings my praises to all her friends: I'm so smart, I'm so good on the computer, I'm such a wonderful daughter. But when it's just her and me, I can't do anything right, she almost always knows best, and it drives me crazy. It's hardly any wonder I want to stay in my room all the time when I'm home... or better yet crawl under the covers and stay there. But then she'd come and feel my forehead and ask me if I'm okay... then ask again to make sure I'm telling the truth.
I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything left of a relationship between her and I to salvage. I find myself saying "I love you too" when she tells me she loves me, or "I miss you too" when she tells me she misses me when I'm away, but I don't feel like I mean it. There's some unwritten rule that says you have to love your mother, somewhere deep down inside, and I don't think that tiny spark has died; as for the voluntary part, it died long ago. Is the spark of 'necessary' love enough to rekindle anything else there? I feel like it's so far dead that there's no hope. I won't miss her a bit when I move, though I imagine I'll be sorry I didn't try to rebuild that relationship, once she's gone. Is it terrible of me to feel that way?
On another note... as I was talking to Jev this evening about how screwed up our relationships with our parents are (not just his and mine, but most everyone I know anymore)... I told him that it was almost a relief thinking that we'll never have kids; we'll never put them through the kind of hell we went through growing up. It hit me when I said that... I think it's the first time I've acknowledged that Jev and I won't have any kids... I don't think we'll even adopt. I suppose pets are as close as we'll ever come, and I guess that's not such a bad thing. I used to think I'd be a good parent, but I'm not sure of that anymore. I still think Jev would be a good parent, but it remains to be seen whether he'll have the chance.
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