Free

She met me in my dreams last night again as she does every few months or so… my mother. As always, it’s as though we are the same as we were over a decade ago– before the dementia and the loss of her, though not yet physical. She is visiting and I have my son with me– an unusual departure from past dreams where I typically revert back to days before this incredible life that I have created with my boys. She is annoyed and disinterested in my son, her focus entirely on me and what I can do for her. My husband is not in the room, and I seem to not want him to be. I message him on my phone telling him that she is still here and to please not show up until she is gone but he doesn’t get the message and soon walks into the room. Now she is angry. Why is he here? Why have I hidden him from her? I finally speak the only words said out loud in this dream and they are to him. “She wishes that I’d never found you. If it were up to her, I would be alone for my entire life.” Then I wake up.

In my past life with my mom, there was no room for anyone but her. She monopolized my life, and this was how she’d wanted it to always be. Today, as she is now in a home and unable to care for herself, I can’t help but constantly wonder what she would think if she could see that I have remained broken free with this life that I have built that is entirely my own. From the earliest I can remember, she would ask me often- “You’ll take care of me forever, right? I know you’ll be the one to do it.” Sometimes I almost feel guilty about it. Then I fall asleep and meet my past yet again and I remember why I worked so hard to get to this life. And, when I awake, I am once again free.

Outside the box.

Twenty seven… I was twenty seven years old and still I had never opened my heart to someone who might break it. I had never even opened my hand to allow in some else’s much less something breakable. Who does that? Mostly those who get hurt and sometimes those who get lucky. At twenty seven, I am independent, I am strong, and I don’t believe in love. Love is fleeting. Love almost certainly goes away in time. I don’t need fleeting. I don’t need love.

And then enters a man who takes everything that I know and turns it upside down. He talks to me; I don’t look at his face. He texts me; I (intentionally) wait an hour to reply. He tells me he’s taking my wall down; I don’t believe him. I have a whole lifetime of research to refer to. He’ll be gone in twenty minutes. No worries here.

But he just keeps coming back, again and again. He doesn’t stopping looking at me, he doesn’t stop texting and he doesn’t go away. Who is this person? More importantly– why the fuck me?

It took so long for me to realize what kind of box I’d placed myself in. I’d spent a good deal of time in my late teens/ early twenties telling myself just how strong I was, and how brave. Look at me! I don’t need a single soul to get by. I have come back from the bottom, taken nothing and made it something amazing. Yes– and yet, here I was in the crappy little box I’d placed myself in and marked in big black letters: DAMAGED. Powerful and strong for me and those who needed me. Too damaged for those who wanted me. I was selling myself and the possibilities so short and mostly due to a fear of failure. I didn’t want to try and then fail so I just didn’t try at all. But not this time. Not with this one.

It’s over nine months later and I’ve not only let him through my wall but so deeply into my life. We laugh, argue, cry (that one’s all me), we kiss and we make up and I’ve only recently stopped looking for him to walk out the door and out of my life. It’s a process. It’s not easy. It never could be. But he makes easier. And that’s all I’ve ever needed.