The day is past...

...and I still can't seem to pick my butt up off the floor.

There's just not another time of year when I think about my mom more.  I wonder sometimes if she even thinks about me.

About a year ago, an old acquaintance from back home told me that my will often tell people she has two sons.  She doesn't say two sons and a daughter, just two sons. 

That makes me wonder how she could so easily write me off.  Does she just want to avoid any uncomfortable conversation about why I only live two hours away, but she never sees me?  Or is it just that easy to turn her back on someone she gave birth to?

My husband often tells me that people with a traumatic past have the hardest time letting things go.  Maybe he is right, even though it makes me angry every time he says it.  But maybe it's because there is so much that keeps us from being able to understand what has been done to us. 

Good grief, it isn't like I don't have ample opportunity to discuss this with someone to help make sense of it.  Most weeks, I am in counseling or therapy at least 3-4 times.  I'm convinced that those helping me struggle to explain things they also cannot understand.

I have watched ladies in our church pursue women who are less mature in their faith or just entering new phases of life.  They go after those young ladies in loving ways because they care.  Even when they get told politely to bug off, they still pursue.  I would think that a mother would work much the same. 

I would think a mother would want to always lovingly remind their daughter that they are there for them.  Even when the daughter pushes away, I would think their love runs deep enough that they never stop pursuing.

It's hard to not have that and impossible to understand why I don't. 

For the past many, many years, all I wanted to do was be a mother.  It's hard to understand how someone who was given that ability would neglect it so.

I don't know what to do, that desire just won't leave me....