Showing UP for Sophia: And Like That, She's Gone
I have work to do, but I can’t stop crying. I have to get it out first. I have to be with this. I have to feel it all. Even when my breath tightens, even when my legs can’t stop shaking, even when I have to pause typing for every word to cry. I have to understand why I feel like such a failure. I have to know to go forward. Deep down I already know what it is, I’ve just never named it. Only shamed and blamed it in others.
This is my mid-life crisis. This is where I see all of my shit. Where I face my shadows, the darker parts of myself that I don’t want you to know. So why am I telling you now? Because I’m done hiding.
I don’t trust people.
If I let you in, it’s because you showed up in a big way for me. A way that told me that you saw me and heard me, and still wanted to be with me. I know I’m unlovable. I was told from the beginning that I was “bad, good for nothing” and “ugly”. Who the fuck would want to love me?
I entered every relationship the same way they eventually ended, weighing the trust between us. If you lost mine, I was done. Who needs you? I certainly knew what it felt like to be used and abused by people I trusted throughout my childhood, adolescence, and the past two decades. Fuck reliving that nightmare again. Why should I cater to others? Or my ego? I’m tired of catering to anyone. Interestingly enough, I’ve never catered to myself. Perhaps that’s why I have to lose them all. At least temporarily. I need to be better, for all of my girls, especially Sophia who depends on me.
Earlier today I shared a meme that poked fun at a Leo’s excitement when they uncover the truth about someone they didn’t like, knowing they knew all along. I even added: “Attention fakes, cheats, and liars… you will be caught and burned by my fires.”
The nerve. Who do I think I am? As if my shit ain’t stinking under the rug right now. Damn, sometimes I’m too bold for my own good. But here we are now. You caught me.
I caught me.
I am the fake, cheat, and liar. I’m good at it. I’ve gotten away with it. Not knowing that all I was doing was surviving. I’ve been a master manipulator my whole life. I’ve had wonderful teachers who taught me what was acceptable through their actions. I heard their words but rarely listened. Why would I? To someone who claimed they loved me but beat me or ignored me? I didn’t trust them at all.
Being a parent who didn’t trust my own parents has been an interesting journey. I have no regrets. I would have my daughters all over again. I love my girls to their core. They are my everything. And… they are theirs.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve gathered pieces of the puzzle and the picture shows me what I’ve been missing all along. I still don’t see the entire picture, but I trust its on its way. I’m finding the pieces easier now. They’re making sense quicker. I’m grateful how they fit together and make the picture uniquely mine.
The picture includes parts of my daughters. Their births and their firsts. I’m grateful to have experienced years of joy and noise. I miss it already. But I know this needs to be done. The cycle needs to be broken, not just by me, but by us all. My girls have all gone. They have all flown the nest.
My middle daughter, Gianna moved out on February 1st… at 20, on her own, for the first time. The past five years have been a roller coaster for her. I’m grateful for John’s presence during such a trying time. He showed up for her. I fell in love with him for that. She needed him, even when she moved out. He helped her like he always did, but this time into her first shared apartment.
I’m proud of her. She was smart. Smarter than me. She saved up. She made sure she had money to support herself, knowing we could no longer provide for her. She was resentful, understandably. She had no choice but to leave because of my decision. I felt guilty, yet confident in her abilities and discovery of herself. I trust her to fly where she feels is right for her. It’s her life and I want her to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for my children.
While I’ve seen my daughters happy, seeing my oldest, Natalia on her recent wedding day, February 19th, was the happiest I’ve ever seen her. She radiated happiness from the moment I arrived to snap photos while she glamoured herself up to when I showered her and her new husband with kisses at the end of the night. She found her love, the one who adores her and loves watching her bloom.
Her husband, Cesar is unlike the others in her past. While they’ve all been attracted to her physically and mentally, he gets her on another level. He stays when she vents and does his best to listen. When he can’t understand her in the moment, he checks back in for resolutions. He remains calm and focused on the problem, not the person. They get through things together because they work as a team. While the marriage was last minute planning, it’s been a long time in the making because we all noticed the differences in “this one” from the start. He’s a keeper and he keeps her happy. Natalia is better since the start of their relationship, not because he helped her do the work, but because he didn’t abandon her through it. The work to be oneself is tough, it’s ugly, and they’ve done it beautifully…individually and collectively. I’m proud of my daughter for following her heart and choosing a man who knows himself and likes himself. I guess she took the lullaby I sang to her to heart. Thank goodness she was listening.
“Sleeping beauty, little baby... lying sweetly in my arms.
Sleeping beauty, little lady... Heaven blessed you with your charms.
Tiny lashes, soft and curly, and those baby brown eyes.
I love to hold you and watch over you... sleeping beauty, baby mine.
Sleeping beauty, tiny Princess... giving me a little smile.
What a cutie, you’re so precious... let me rock you for awhile.
Someday you’ll meet, someone special, who’s a Prince in your eyes.
Til’ then it’s my turn to watch over you... sleeping beauty, baby mine.”
One moves out, the other moves on, and my littlest? She’s officially gone too.
Sophia left with her father this afternoon. First stop Huntington Beach, tomorrow Utah, from there they will stop at loved ones’ homes until they reach John’s hometown in Illinois. While I’m excited for her adventure with her Big Guy, I have to trust the man who I no longer trust enough to be my love. Talk about a cluster-fuck going on in my mind. This is by far the hardest thing I’ve had to do as a parent, to let my child leave without me. I’ve always been the one who stayed. I’ve been the one who primarily raised my children. I don’t understand the concept of not. My mother guilted my brothers and I numerous times about having to stay in her unhealthy relationship with my father because of us. I wished her away. I didn’t like her when she was mean. I often wondered what it would have been like had I not lived with her. What if she had “run away” like she frequently threatened? Maybe she needed to be away from us, the same way I need to be away from Sophia.
I’m not my mother, but I have parts of her too. She was my first teacher, friend, and enemy. She taught me a lot about love, especially how to use it.
“If you… you can…”
Little threats to keep me in check. Little threats I learned to repeat. That’s how a parent parents, right? Love is given to kids who listen. But I didn’t, yet I expected my kids to. I demanded it. Not the same way as my mother, but like someone who didn’t know how to be one. How could I? Love was conditional and my mother had too many conditions, conditions that changed frequently.
Hello me!
I’ve been a fake, cheat, and liar. I’ve faked my way into motherhood, cheated my children out of fathers, and lied about knowing better than others. How? Because I said so? I need to let that part of me go.
As the picture becomes bigger, I see parts I thought were clear are distorted. The extra pieces have helped me see better. Now I need to be better. I see who I’ve been and I don’t like her. I understand her, and I’m grateful for her showing up for me, again and again, but I need to fly like my daughters. I need to learn who I am without them. I was a mother before I was a woman. I don’t think I quite know what it means to be one, and I want to.
I also want to trust people, starting with myself.
How ironic that during the month when love is most celebrated, I’m losing what I once thought was love. The conditions and the control. I don’t need any of it. They don’t either. They never did. I trust we’ll all find our own way as we explore our independence away from each other, knowing we’ll finally be able to meet who we knew was really there all along.
Until then, my gorgeous girlies… FLY FREE!
