One Way Communicators

We all have someone, or several someones, in our lives that are one way communicators. They readily reach out to you when they need something. The rest of the time they disappear into the abyss of their own lives. "I've been busy they say." But you know what that really means is "I haven't needed you for anything."

I looked at the beautiful marigolds growing in my planter. Always a pop of fiery color to brighten the day. They are associated with happiness, joy, optimism, and good luck. But they also symbolize darker emotions like grief, despair, and mourning. A perfect representation of the double-edged sword that is my life.

How long has it been now since I've heard anything? Oh yeah, actually six days ago on a Thursday with a plea for money that would be paid back on a Saturday. Sworn on her life. Well, tomorrow will be a week later and surprise, surprise, it hasn't been paid back yet. And it won't be. Just like all the other desperate pleas for money and promises of repayment. I have to wonder how many lives she thinks she has when she swears them away?

Of course, now she won't answer my calls. Just hits the reject button and then sends me an agitated message that she is doing something where she can't take calls. So, I try to text her back. She doesn't even read them. My phone shows me when she does. I try Facebook Messenger too. Same thing. I don't even register as a blip on her radar. Until she needs something again that is.

She thinks I forget and lose track of the money and that I'll never press to have it back. Used to, I could afford the luxury of forgetting. But aging out in the workforce diminishes your earnings. I'm on a precipice where I'm old enough for early retirement but not flush enough financially to do so. So, as hard as it is for her to believe, her momma doesn't have the resources in her sixties that she had in her forties.

I wouldn't mind the money really if it was going towards a good purpose. I'd just tighten my belt another notch, eat some bag lunches instead of eating out and feel good that I had helped ease her life. But it isn't going to a good purpose. I know what her and her man do, and they know that I know. But they angrily deny it. I think those denials are more for themselves than me. Like they are reassuring themselves that they haven't sunk as low in life as they know they have. If I could lift them up, I would. But only they can do that. But in reality they can't.

They scuttle away like a crab and live secretively. I guess they think that sealing off from everyone that loves them makes it better somehow. If it did, I'd accept it. But there is kids involved, my grandkids. I love them. I love all of them, adults and kids alike. But the adults have choices and they are living the life they're creating for themselves. The kids though, they are just passengers on a bus speeding along through hell.

I can't say anything anymore to her because I have nothing to say that is desired to be heard. I've pleaded, I've begged, I've professed love. I've ranted in pain, and I've lashed in anger. None of it, and I mean none of it helped anything. Not even me. It just made us all feel worse. It just complicated an already overly complicated situation.

I think the worst part is feeling like you're on an island of failure all alone. You second guess every move you've ever made. Was I too soft a parent? Too much of a hard ass? Was I too stingy with praise? Did I smother her with attention and affection to the point I crippled her? Because she truly was the center of my world. My only child. There was nothing I wouldn't have done for her. Now there seems to be nothing I can do for her. Except stay out of her way.

But how do you do that? Abandon someone that is so lost in circumstances that is destroying her health and mental clarity? And I'm destroying my health and mental clarity worrying about hers. It truly is like the snake eating it's tail.

Someone suggested that I join a group of other mothers in similar circumstances. I didn't think I could stand shoulder to shoulder with them physically so I found an online group. It gave me a sense of security that I would be somewhat anonymous. I wouldn't have to worry about running into someone while out shopping that knew all the secrets of my struggles.

It was overwhelming to find such a sea of other mothers treading water in the same turbulent sea with their children as I was with mine. I cried. I cried for them, I cried for their children, and I cried for me and mine. And it spurred me to write. And it seemed like the depths of my soul has so much to pour out. Like lancing a wound that has been unable to heal.

I wrote this for them. For me. For us.

"My footsteps echo loudly in the darkness that surrounds me. But I know I am not alone on this path. Yet I cannot see my traveling companions because they are hidden in the shadows of their own misery riddled lives. We live silently in our pain, grieving for the lost who have no idea they have gone missing. Each tear shed is one too many and yet not nearly enough. Our souls broken and corrupted in pain seeking a relief that never arrives. We want control but it isn't to be had. You cannot reign over the choices of others. You can only make your own choices. Do you hang on or let go? Can you find peace in walking away and leaving them behind embraced by the world they have created for themselves? You know it is hell on earth. They despise your ease in recognizing it. They blame you because responsibility and accountability is too difficult. And you enable them again by taking on the mantle of guilt. Adding it to your already burdensome yoke you stagger under. Somehow you consider it your duty. But is it like throwing a shovel of dirt onto their coffin in the grave?"

It's not the relationship we dreamed of, but it's the one we have.

I finished watering my marigolds, picked a few and went inside to make some tea.