Mindfuck

Please excuse the obscene title. I seriously could not think of anything better to name this entry. I hate that what I'm about to spew out is a bunch of confusion and random facts about how my relationship with my mother has been strained since losing my daughter, but I really desperately need to let off the steam somewhere.

We used to be pretty close. Close when it came to relating to insignificant things I guess. We used to go shopping together and we had a ball. We used to talk about a lot of happy, cheery things. My mother is a person who always brushes off difficulties and always keeps a smile on her face in an almost unnatural manner. Since losing Freja, I have become quite the opposite. I used to try being the "happy happy, joy, joy" type, even when I was hurting. I would hide my pain from the world and slap a smile on my face. But I can't do that anymore. I'm not saying that I'm a miserable, frowning person all the time now - quite the opposite in fact. But not I allow myself to feel what I am feeling. There is nothing to hide. There is no reason to hide hurt, or sadness. There is no reason to pretend that I'm something I'm not. I can have weak moments, and I'm not ashamed. I am human, and I have endured more in my life than most people could ever wrap their mind around. And it's okay to admit that. No, I try not to dwell on everything that I've been through since birth, but it's no secret that it has worn on me. Most specifically, this last blow of losing my daughter, which has by far been the MOST PAINFUL thing that I could ever imagine having to go through.

I look back now to the first couple of days in the hospital after Freja's birth and think to myself how different my relationship with my mother was then. I layed in my bed one night in the hospital crying hysterically from both the emotional and physical pain I was in. In between gasps for air I begged for my mom to come be with me. I felt she was the only person in the world who could comfort me and I felt like a vulnerable little child, begging for the comfort of her mother. Little did I know at the time that that type of comfort would never be available.

Instead, there was distance. And hurtful comments which despite my efforts to forgive, still come back and haunt me. I think for the most part I have done well to forgive and move forward from the things that were said which made my head spin, but it is impossible to forget. That hurt is so deep rooted and it's impossible to not think about it, although I have been trying to accept that people say stupid things. I cannot change what others do or say to me, but I do struggle with trying to figure out why. I desperately need to stop trying to figure out why and just let it slide off me instead of taking it so personally.

I think what it comes down to is that I am incredibly thin-skinned since losing Freja. I cannot handle conflict and stress. Especially really stupid, selfish conflict and stress. I have tried to handle this kind of thing in the last two-and-a-half-years in the only way I know: To limit my exposure to those who frazzle my nerves and set me back in my journey of healing. To not be around those who fail to acknowledge just how trying each day can be and to avoid those who cannot be sensitive or find kind things to say. Not just about Freja, but about everything in life. Her and I have had more disagreements than I can count about things as simple as disciplining children (which for the record, she is pretty much completely against. Even something as simple as saying "no" to a child and giving them limits.) I don't even think these kind of topics should be up for debate. It's my life, and they are my children, and if I feel I should put my foot down about certain things then it is my right! I will not be told what to do or how to live my life! I have come a long way in the last two and a half years and I know what is right for my family and I.

I hate playing mind games and I really hate trying to be controlled. It seems we can never just have a nice enjoyable conversation as two adults. It always has to come down to her telling me what to do when I was not at all looking for advice. And she doesn't relent. If there is ever a time I need to vent to her about something, it always comes down to the fact that there must be something wrong with ME because I am upset. I can never just get an understanding shoulder to lean on. I don't get it.

A daughter will always try to seek a connection with her mother. Understanding of a mother goes a long way. I feel like I have been sticking my finger in the fire again and again, only to be burnt each each time. I could probably count on one hand the number of times that my mother and I have really connected since Freja died. Most of the time we just do not see eye to eye, and she refuses to (or is incapable of,) trying to see things from my point of view.

I know my mother will always be there in some ways. Bringing my children gifts of clothing and toys and whatever material things they could ever want. But that doesn't fill the gap. I wish we could have an understanding, her and I.... As two mothers who have both lost children, I wish this could've brought us closer together. I wish she could've shared more wisdom and compassion with me. Instead, it has left us awkward and anxious when we are together. And empty. And my nerves are shot.

A daughter will always seek that connection with her mother.

I never pictured that things would be this way.