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I could apologize for who and what I am for all eternity. And I probably would too, because that’s a big part of who I am–for better or worse. I derive the vast majority of my self-worth from my perception of what others think of me. I know my mother played a very large role in that, and I know that we share a lot of the same problems. I don’t blame her–I couldn’t possibly. I got all of the good stuff that’s in me from her and my father and my gratitude far outweighs any possible animosity. The only thing I can do now is try to let all of that good shine through me for my daughter and squelch as much as the doubt and insecurity as I possibly can.

When I want something badly enough I fight for it and try for it until I have exhausted every possible opportunity  or tiny little sliver of hope. Who wouldn’t attempt to fight to keep a person that makes her want to be a better person in her life?

The part of this situation that has left me the most confused stems mostly from the fact that she said she missed me too. To me that left open a little window of hope no matter what else was said. And my idealism makes it utterly impossible to find finality with a person that I have loved and been loved by deeply. No matter what differences or obstacles, within the self or otherwise, arise. Anything worth having takes work, and even though I have only ever publicly pledged “for better or worse” to my husband, it is the principle that I apply to all affections and relationships. Any person who gains my absolute love and trust has it always no matter what. And while that makes me incredibly vulnerable, it is this very vulnerability that makes me compassionate and empathic.

I am a dreamer, and although John Lennon has claimed that I am not the only one, I can’t help but wonder in this day of instant judgment and dismissals, if we are a dying breed?



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