Just can't let it go

You know, there's a reason why when you call I don't answer the phone. I mean, I don't just walk out, look to see who it is and then just not because it sounds like fun. I don't answer because I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to talk to you and I don't want to see you. Unfortunately, I know that this is inevitable as Jon and Travis' graduation is in two weeks. I know I'm going to have to go to the family dinner with you... Sit with you somewhere at the table and sit with you for two hours as we watch them in their final steps as high schoolers. I really wish I could go do all of this and just avoid you, but I know that'll be impossible. You'll want the hug, you'll want the talk. Maybe you'll tell me you miss seeing me. Maybe you'll ask me why I don't pick up the phone. Maybe you'll give me that look you always do every time I see you that says "I'm disappointed in you, I'm mad at you and I'm in the right" all in one. Quite frankly, I really don't care if you're disappointed in me because I guarantee I'm equally, if not more so, disappointed in you. I don't care if you're mad, sad or upset because I'd bet you a million dollars I'm all of that and more. You may think you're in the right, but, maybe minus a few things, you're wrong about most of it. You want to know why I don't pick up the phone, why I don't want to talk to you or see you? Because you're just a person to me. You're my mother. The woman who happened to give birth to me. You're not my mom, though, and you haven't been for years. I don't pick up because I don't want to hear it. Notice how angry I am through just this? Try imagining me talking about it and trying not to break in front of whoever it is. I was talking to my friend Julie about you and all your bullshit once a few months ago and she saw the anger ALL across my face. It actually startled her. You make me so pissed off and so hurt all at once. Part of me wants to scream and hit you, the other part just wants to break down. Typically, I don't do either. I've never hit you, I don't talk to you so I can't scream at you and I refuse to let you break me. Talk about bottling it up. How dare you just let go of all responsibility in your life for a fucking guy. How dare you turn on your children and start acting like you're twenty years old again. News flash, mother, you're going to be forty one this year. You haven't been able to act irresponsible without having to worry about the immediate after effect on other people in twenty years. Guess what. This time twenty years ago, you were pregnant with me. Yeah. I'm turning twenty this year. Interesting how things change over twenty years. Interesting how I used to want to be around you all the time and now I fight to stay away. I've been meaning to let all of this out... To write it for a while now. I just never got around to it until now. Why now? I don't know. I've been thinking about a lot of things lately... Especially pertaining to next year. James being here... Meeting my best friends, meeting my close friends, meeting church family and meeting blood family. I don't know if I want you to be one of those people. I'm sure he'd like to meet you, but I also know for a fact that if I said I didn't want him to at this point, he wouldn't push me on it or give it a second thought. Know why? Because he doesn't like his dad. If he doesn't want me to meet his dad, I won't push it. Do I want you at my wedding when I get married? I don't know. Do I want you to be in the room with me when I'm giving birth to my first child? Or my second? Or my third? Or fourth? Or however many? Do I want you in their lives? Will I be over this in ten years? Cause I'm telling you now, in ten years, I will be married and I will have some kids. You stopped being my mom almost three years ago. I moved out almost two ago. How many times have I seen you in two years? I probably can count them on my fingers and toes... If I can't, I'd bet it wasn't many more than twenty. Twenty times, give or take, in two years I've chosen to be around you. When you were taking my room down and I was pleading with you not to, do you remember what you said? "Do you know how hard it is for me to pass this room, see it every day and know that my child hates me?" First off, taking my things out of there doesn't change anything. The room is still there. The memory that that was my room is not going to go away. The fact that when you and I first found that house and did the walk through, it was together. That room still holds my memory. Taking things out won't help you. My things are mostly out of there last time I knew... As far as I know, the walls still remain. Quite frankly, you could strip everything out and leave just the walls and I'd be okay. Those walls are important to me. Then again, that hasn't mattered to you in a while. You gave away my dog... My baby. MY dog. You threatened it for three years, promised that when you finally did, you'd tell me so I could say good bye. Did you keep your promise? No. Secondly, do you know how hard it is to have your mother turn her back on you? I mean, do you REALLY know what that's like? Do you know what it's like to have your brother SLICE his fucking thumb open so severely you can see the bone, but when you call your MOTHER to come take him to the hospital because he really does need stitches, she doesn't answer because she's too wrapped up with her boyfriend to give a shit? Do you know what it's like to have your mother try and convince you that having sex with a few guys before you get married so you "know what you're doing" is the best way to go? Do you know what it's like to have your mother disrespect your values and just blatantly not care? Because I do. I know what it's like for you to just not give a shit. For you to pick your stupid boyfriend over your children. To sit there with my brother trying to get him to stop bleeding, to stop panicking long enough so I can get him to sit down so he doesn't throw up or pass out. I had to call Tammy and wake her up in the middle of the night. Guess what she said: "I'll be right over". Our AUNT came to us at midnight because our mother wasn't answering her phone because her boyfriend is obviously more important and my brother was bleeding. I do know what it's like for my mother to tell me, after I've repeated said time and time again that it's important to me to wait to have sex until I'm married; that I don't want to sleep with a few guys for the practice. I know what it's all like. So how dare you call and expect me to answer. You can call all you want to, because there won't be a day I'll pick up. Especially when you can't even leave a message. It really must not be that important if you can't do something as simple as that.