Have you ever wondered, “How did I get here?” Thinking back on your choices from years earlier. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong. Sometimes I claim I wouldn’t change a thing. Sometimes I wonder how it could possibly be true that 18 years has passed since I graduated. In these moments the events of my life flash before my eyes in phases. I remember when I was 18 and pregnant. Now that my son is a senior I can’t believe I made it. Then I contemplate everything I lost along the way. The relationships I thought could only be separated with death, now that I’m older I realize that was my own wishful thinking.
My parents didn’t reach out to my son for his birthday this year. My sister texted. So did my one aunt and uncle. His father acknowledged the day that was supposed to change our lives with a simple text, but no plans were made. No gift cards were exchanged. After all this time it takes my breath away that I’m the only one left standing. Doing the work of parenting while everyone else is out living their lives. I sit and worry about the next chapter, I’m trying my best to teach driving lessons as my heart is racing, I’m hounding my teenager to submit his college applications. All of the people who were supposed to support me are nowhere to be found. Some of them can’t be bothered to send a quick message to acknowledge the day I brought him into this world.
My sister sent me several long voice memos this week, I just now tried to listen. I could only stomach two of them. There are four or five eight minute messages about her amazing beach weekend. How everything just seemed to work out perfectly, all the new people she met. Men she kissed. Me? I just recently was able to reach out to old friends after 3 years. I just recently tried to put myself out there again (and was rejected). How can we come from the same parents? I can’t help but feel inadequate.
I sit in a parking lot, early to pick up my son from his art lesson. I see a family walking out with young children, taking pictures, laughing with eachother. I sit and wonder what it will be like when my son leaves for college in less than a year now. I remember when he was small. I remember what it feels like to think he’ll never grow up. I wonder how many family members this young couple has to call. Do they both have a supportive mom, a dad that helps with projects around the house? Sisters or brothers who live nearby who surprise them with a night of babysitting so they can enjoy a night out? These are things I’ve never had in the past 18 years, but as the years carried on the little support I did have is also gone. It’s just me, alone, raising a son who will soon be considered an adult. He will go out into the world and I’ll be left with the memories of when it was just us. Soon, just me. Soon turned to dust.
Lately, I’ve been feeling the effects of irreparable flaws within myself. Maybe the lack of acknowledgement or excitement of my son is too reminiscent to what I experienced as a teenager. I’m left to wonder what would happen if I was gone. When I am gone. Will he be ok? I know what it feels like to have no one to call when you’re having a bad day. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
I know, I know. I’ve reconnected with friends now. I’ve been building this relationship with my sister. I do have bonds with other people. The trouble is no one has room for your bad feelings. No one has the capacity to help you when you need it. I’ve learned from experience it’s best to contact people only when you don’t need them. I’m not saying it’s anyone else’s responsibility to be a supportive mother figure or the father I never had. Or to fulfill the roles that are now lacking for my son. I would never expect a friend to put us first, God knows I have no idea how I even feel about romantic relationships. Family is something I’ve never been able to rely on. Should I be grateful for being put in a situation where I clearly see how alone we all are? Maybe. Sometimes though I’m jealous of everyone who gets to stay in the dark. Who currently has someone they can call if they need help. Or maybe they don’t even have to ask at all. Maybe they have always had family they could rely on.
Am I blessed or cursed to know what it feels like to be alone in the world with no support?
The Girl Without A Face 