a better man without you

I don’t quite know what to make of this. How to respond, or even if I want to.

A couple days ago, I received a generic LinkedIn request from my mom.

The last time we spoke was about three years ago while I was laying in my hospital bed at Maitri, trying to figure out how to go about staying alive and fighting like hell in order to do so, was when she was visiting my sister who lived in the City. My sister had told her I was in a hospice, and they called. Well, my sister called, saying that mom wanted to talk

I was hesitant about speaking to my mom – it seldom goes well, and I had cut off ties with my parents a while before due to the realization that there were differences between us that were simply insurmountable. It didn’t matter what I was doing in my life or how happy I was, it seemed. To them I would always be the screw-up, the drug addict, the lost cause.

I would never be who *they* wanted me to be.

It would be wonderful if we could patch things up, start new, without their ignorance, bigotry, thoughtlessness, and desire to change me being a factor – but as sad as it makes me, I truly don’t think that is possible without some drastic changes. Given, I wasn’t the best kid but I tried to make them happy, to make them proud of me without sacrificing my own soul to do it, but no matter what I did or who I was, it never seemed like enough. It never seemed like it was my happiness that they were interested in. It never seemed like they tried to understand that I wasn’t like them. That I had no desire to be, never would be.

I’m sure I could have tried harder. I’m certain that the fault does not only lay on them, but I also believe that through it all, they fail to try to see me – to see that maybe, just *maybe* I am a good person, and forever striving to be better. That it isn’t necessarily money or security that makes me happy. That my dreams are different, and reach different levels than theirs. Not essentially better, but better for me.

It is sad, as I’ve also lost a dad who at times could be pretty damn alright, and a sister, the same. However every time I spoke with any of them, I felt like I was being judged on standards that don’t and never will apply to me, and always left with a sense of feeling less than, a failure, the one who would never make them proud.

When I die, (*if* I ever die), and if it is before them, I feel that this is the last time I wish for them to see me. I want them to meet all of the astoundingly incredible people in my life, who will hopefully talk to them, and let them know two things: that I loved them and appreciated them, regardless – and who the person that their beliefs prevented them from ever truly getting to know actually was.

I think I’ll leave this one alone, and continue to go about my life. If she actually wants to recommence communication of any sort, I believe I’ll need more than a generic LinkedIn contact request from her – or any of them.

It’s unfortunate, but certainly not sad – and I’m better off without the weight of them crushing my spirit anymore.


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