Patchwork

My mother is coming to visit this weekend.

Instead of feeling a) happy; b) excited; c) ecstatic,

I feel

stressed
nervous
worried
fearful
sad

And all the times that she's told me what she thinks of my lifestyle keep floating back into my head.

It hurts.

I know she means well and that she loves me, but I also know

she's crazy
she says one thing one day and then says the complete opposite the next day and believes herself both times
she says things that have scarred me for life (without meaning to, of course)
she believes I'm "going to hell" for playing D&D/reading Harry Potter/liking fantasy in general
she thinks I should lose weight and be 125 like she is

It hurts that I wish I never had to see her again. It pains me to feel this way. I wish we could all be happy with one another's lifestyle decisions - that's not what really matters, in the end, is it? Is that what familial love comes down to - approval of life choices? I don't think it should. And I don't think it does in healthy families.

Having an unhealthy family who pretend to be healthy is harrowing. People adore them and I just see what they're hiding. It's frustrating. I just want to shout, "BUT YOU ARE CRAZY! I KNOW IT! I'VE SEEN IT!" while everyone else is crowding 'round in adoration.

I really wish I didn't feel this way.

-

What I really wanted to write about is identity issues that were grounded in the way I grew up - from the very beginning, I have been different from my parents - I am much more like my grandmother.

Now, as I grow older, all I can see are the parts of me that ARE like my parents - I look like my mom, I'm built like Grandma, I have the same health issues that mom's side of the family have, I laugh like my Mom, I gesture like my Mom, I make faces like her, I do so many things she does - knitting, sewing, creating...it terrifies me that I AM so much like her.

I don't want to do to my kids what my mother (unconsciously) did to me.

What she didn't know when I was in counseling was that I was there to help me process through growing up with her and dad as parents.

I feel like a patchwork - I have so many different parts of me that are someone else, and little pieces here and there that are just me, and it's hard to make sense of it all. It's confusing.

I don't want to be a patchwork - but that's the way you're made - families share DNA and you end up with granny's foot size and bra size and your dad's bad eyes and teeth. You end up laughing like your mom and being made fun of for your Humes nose and pale skin.

We're all patchwork. Is it any wonder that a lot of us end up falling apart at the seams?

How can I sew myself back together?