I asked my daughter to come home from her summer job (about an hour away) this weekend to help with me with the garage sale.
What’s left in the house, I don’t want “-” or his new family, to have. So, I want to try to sell it — or give it away — so that the house is as bare as possible. Including light bulbs, I thought, until I did a cost/analysis on the time it would take me to unscrew all the fixtures to get the bulbs out. So, “screw” that particular idea.
My daughter said she had a camp alumni thing on Saturday in our hometown, but that she would help Friday night with set up or with the aftermath Sunday.
Then she texed that the camp where she is working as a counselor asked her to sing in a video on Saturday. She couldn’t get out of it. They needed her, you see.
I felt duped, disrespected, unimportant, unappreciated, slighted, taken for granted, and like the curator of my dead nuclear family’s detritus.
I told her my feelings. I tried to be gentle. She said I seemed mad. I said it was ok. My friends would help me. She said see, now, she feels guilty. I said it is what it is.
I am always shocked at how intensely my feelings are on some of this stuff. I guess I believe the horseshit I tell myself along the way, like, “My job as the mom is to always be nurturing, always put my kids before myself, always take the higher road, always forgive, always uplift, remember what it was like to be a self-absorbed young adult.”
I don’t need her. I have two bfs who get where I am — my boyfriend and my best friend — both of them are giving up their weekend to help me through this last push of a garage sale to move on from the past.
My daughter texed me this morning. She had asked the camp if she could do her part of the video some other time. Sure, they said. How about tonight? The sign up date for attendance at the alumni day on Saturday was past. So, she could help all day on Saturday.
I feel seen. Can you see me? Respected, important, appreciated, noticed. Cared for.
It will be nice to hold the hand of one of the family members who survived this hell with me as we bury the body of the past. I need her, you see.
Major. Kudos. Kiddo.