The Tranquil Vintessa

Sitting in my car, tired from the day, I’m debating on making this call. It’s late in the evening on Mother’s Day, and outside of a text, I haven’t spoken to my mom today, nor has she reached out to ask why. We were never close growing up, and the distance between us has continued to grow even in adulthood. There were never shopping trips with her, or “mom and me” days. Hell, it’s not uncommon for me to go weeks or months without hearing from her. And despite all that time elapsing, when we do talk, it’s like talking to an extended family member who tells you they used to change your diapers when you were a baby.

I can hardly remember a time when I was younger receiving a hug or encouraging words from my mom. She just wasn’t around much. I’m not sure where she was, but it wasn’t home. Every graduation or ceremony, I would look out and she wasn’t there. While most of my peers’ parents were hugging and congratulating them, I was searching for a phone to call my mom to let her know I was done. Your first thought is possibly she was at work or something, but no, it’s more likely she was talking to or out with her friends. My Dad was the one at work. No one was ever home. I was far past the traditional latchkey kids of the 80s; I was just a kid forgotten. In my teenage years, I grew angry, and after my parents’ divorce, I was forced into an entire new world I didn’t know and grew even more angry and alone. We fought a lot, and we said some very hurtful things.

I’ll never forget coming home one day after being out, and her looking at me with a smirk and saying, “You are my most difficult child.” Or crying to her asking for support, and her assuming I was calling her a bad mom and demanding I say she was good before she kicked me out. I would beg for love or care and was given neglect and rejection. As you can imagine, this didn’t give me the best setup mentally or emotionally. After my mental break in my late 20s, I tried to repair my relationship with my family. One member responded fairly positively, and my mother, well, she was never there, and it doesn’t look like it’ll change. I’m only left to assume that she doesn’t want a relationship with me.

I shake these thoughts and press the call button on my phone. It’s Mother’s Day after all! The day to celebrate Mothers all over the world. She’ll want to see me, I convince myself. The phone rings and eventually goes to voicemail. I send a text telling her I was planning on stopping by, but she must be busy. Before I have time to press send, she calls back. I wish her a happy Mother’s Day and tell her I’ll be over shortly, to which she replies, “Oh, or you can come another weekend,” she says in a reluctant, cheery tone. I was taken aback. Does she not want her gifts? Or any adoration? I asked if she was sure; she confirmed, saying she already had dinner plans and was headed there. I conceded. It’s her day, right? She can spend it how she wants, and she didn’t want to see me. It was another rejection, another bitter reminder that she is not the one to go to for love or acceptance. It was the confirmation that I needed to move on and no longer work towards repairing this relationship. I mean, if you don’t want to see me on holidays, then you just don’t. And it sucks, but it is what it is. You can’t make someone care even if you think they should. This is why over the past couple of months, I’ve been focusing on building my own community and deeper friendships. When you can’t depend on the community you were born into, then maybe you need to find one.

I took a long, deep breath and walked into my apartment to my bouncing puppy. He was happy to see me and had been waiting for me all day. It brought such a smile to my face, and I almost forgot about that nasty incidence that just happened. I relaxed on my vintage leather couch with a tall glass of Pinot Noir and watched movies until late in the evening.

The next day, I received a message from a new friend I met in the area to go out and meet for brunch. Then I went to work and my favorite coworker was in, and we were able to laugh and joke throughout the day. It was refreshing knowing that I’m still loved and appreciated by others, even if it’s not from the one I wanted the most. My little (and growing) community showed me I don’t have to change who I am or twist myself to be loved. And despite your or my past, we are all worthy of love just as we are.