Bad Memories

Tuesday, February 7, 2023

There was a death today and it’s making me think.

I’m not going to go into the person that passed, who they were, because that’s not my story to tell. However, I will tell you that it’s made me think about what will happen when the person that gave birth to me dies… or as I told my dad, “When the demon that spawned me goes back to Hell.” Yeah, no love lost there.

I haven’t seen her in almost 18 years. It’s weird to think that someone who was born the last time I had any interaction with her, is now an adult. It was my choice. Well, I’m not sure “choice” is the right word. More like, I NEEDED to cut that toxicity out of my life. That woman was never meant to be a mother. She doesn’t know how to focus on anyone other than herself. Bipolar, drug and alcohol addicted, narcissist. Yeah, my childhood was traumatic.

I think I’ve already mourned the loss, not so much the loss of the a mother, but the loss of the idea of a mother. I’ve come to terms that I will never see her again, God willing. But, I still think of what will happen when she actually dies. To be honest, I’m surprised she hasn’t already. I know I’ll find out. I have maternal family that I am still in contact with, plus my God-Mother still speaks to her, for some unknown reason. I don’t know if I’ll find out right away, but I will find out. I don’t think I’ll be sad. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll feel anything.

She’s a distant memory. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent my adulthood trying to undo the trauma from the first 23 years of my life. The mental scars. The PTSD. The crippling anxiety. The emotional damage. I don’t have many happy memories. I have a hard time picturing her face. I catch glimpses every now and then when I look in the mirror. I look a lot like her and I’m at the age she was when I saw her last. I have my father’s nose (which I am eternally grateful for), but the rest is her. The large green eyes. The mouth. The hair. It’s all her. And yet, her face is still fuzzy. I do have photos of her. Not many, maybe 4 or 5, but I don’t make it a habit to look at them. I’m sure the decades of drug and alcohol abuse has taken its’ toll. A lifetime of scowls and lies and evil has probably shown through. I don’t imagine she would still be consider pretty.

I try not think of her. Most days, I don’t. Hopefully, some day, I never will again.