This post is inspired by Lizzy. Never have I ever been vulnerable on this blog. People always say that is what blogs are for.
Not in my mind. In my mind it is for presenting your best self, the self that never gets hurt, or that is sad, or anything like that.
But, in the interest in trying something new, here it goes.
My mom died 2 and a half years ago. Most of the people reading this know that, but I never say it. I never write it. I hope that makes it less true.
But it doesn’t.
2 and a half years ago seems like ages. But it also seems like a minute ago. 2 and a half years feels like I should be healed.
Unfortunately, I just realize more and more how broken I am.
I long for a maternal relationship in my life. I long to feel the unconditional love that it seems only a mother can provide. Someone who cares if I bought a new lampshade or what I made for dinner. Someone who wants to egg the house of a boy that hurt me. Someone who is more proud of my accomplishments than I am.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t really exist. It is kind of a one time shot, and my chance got cut short. Which stinks.
I wasn’t ready. I needed more time.