Progress. Oh My God, People, We Have Progress

Well, if this keeps up, I'll be a regular blogger again! My mother called me last night. I was on the other line when she called, so I didn't answer, and she left a very nice voicemail. She said that she just wanted to let me know she was thinking about me. So I called her back, and we had a really nice little chat. It was about 7:30 and I was driving home (I had gone to a Zumba class after work), and when I told her that, she laughed because she had waited to call, thinking that I would be home, have dinner over with and be free to talk. (HA to the HA. If only my life were that orderly.) We talked about regular stuff, my job and her job, and her family. (My great-aunt is still alive, thank God. I was really worried that she had passed away and no one knew how to get in touch with me. Which is a situation I created, but still. I was worried.) And I invited her to come visit sometime. We didn't set a time for her to visit, but still. Baby steps. And at the end of the call, I told her I loved her. Um, because I didn't the last time. The call lasted about 20 minutes, and then we ran out of things to say, so I guess that means that my mom and I can get along in 20 minute increments. It's a start. I still feel really conflicted about all this. I feel like I'm waiting on the other shoe to drop. Sure, she's being nice now, but how long is that going to last? Part of me is really pissed off that I'm being so naive as to let her back in. That part of me feels like I'm going to feel like a huge fool when she hurts me again. But part of me is a little hopeful that maybe we can have a decent relationship. I'm not saying I think we'll be besties and go shopping together on the weekends, but maybe we can talk and not hate each other. She sounds old on the phone, you guys. She has one of those brittle, old lady voices. I didn't recognize her voice when I called her last week. It makes me kind of sad to hear it. And my dad looks older every time I see him. That's one of the reasons I decided to call her again after all these years. Neither of them will live forever. Might as well at least try to make peace with her now.

Breaking News

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I called my mother Sunday night. For the first time in seven years.

There were a lot of different catalysts for it. I'd been thinking about writing her a letter since before Christmas, but I never got around to it. I'd talked to a few friends and my dad about getting back in touch with her. Most seemed to think it was a good idea, but that I should be careful so that I don't get hurt again.

You know how sometimes an idea or a word keeps popping up, in lots of different contexts? I've had that going on lately about the idea of standing up for myself. And the main person I have always needed to stand up to was my mom. So I called her, and it went okay. It started off rocky, she started trying to argue with me and I kept blocking her and getting more frustrated and finally, when I was really feeling like the whole damn thing had been a huge mistake, I just asked her, "Look, what do you want? Do you want to be friends with me?" And she backed down and said yes, she did and that she was glad I called. She suggested that when she says something hurtful, I call her on it immediately and I said I would be willing to try that. After that, we had kind of a normal conversation, very stilted and awkward, of course, but not too bad. I gave her my phone number, so we'll see if she calls.