Rootless tree

I'm feeling odd today. A unique combination of two profoundly different emotions. I seem to have drifted apart from the only older family member I had left, and it's left me feeling both apathetic and deeply injured.

There was no major fight or disagreement. Just life and the way we want to live it. Two very separate paths that finally forked left me yet again feeling orphaned. Simply put, I am not the kind of person she chooses to be intimately involved with anymore. I choose spirituality over religion, candor over censorship, and most importantly, I choose myself over approval.

While this doesn't directly relate to my parenting of Lilah, in a way it absolutely does. She doesn't share a single drop of blood with some of the people that love her best. Adam, Dennis, Mellisa, Erin, Ryan, Rob, the Bells, Avery, Mia, Kevin, Whitney, Bob and Gen. This doesn't even touch the aunties, cousins, grandparents, and uncles who are related to her. For her, I'm truly content that she isn't missing anything. She, like Dano, is entwined in a family with history, traditions, memories, and love and is beloved and adored for who she is.

I feel a strong sense of transplantation. I was taken from where I started and I have truly thrived elsewhere. Like the tomato plants on my porch, I put down roots and grew happily where I was planted. But it's days like today where I look at the Ball tomato plants that have flourished into a veritable jungle and I look at mine and realize with a deep pang of heartbreak that their roots have hit the bottom of pot. I could take the fruits I've grown and plant them in someone else's yard and they grow into amazingly tall, healthy miracles. But mine have gone as deep as they can go and the best they have to hope for is that the seeds they worked so hard to grow will have an easier time.

As silly as it is, it hurts on Mad Men every time someone looks suspiciously at Don Draper and says accusingly, "He can't be trusted. He doesn't even have any people." And for as easily as Dano can reassuringly tell me, "Sweetheart, the past doesn't matter," it does. All those buried, half-forgotten memories and wishes no one can ever grant are ever on the lookout for the slightest foothold to claw their way to the surface again. The history I desperately wish I had is non-existent and now with this one last family tie that was so neatly snipped, I can't even pretend anymore. In a sense, it's a relief. When I realized I wasn't who she wanted, all those old emotions rushed back. "What can I do to fix it? What can I change?" But they were brushed away like a dead leaf that falls on your shoulder. I just shook my head. "Not this time." It wasn't even tempting. I've had it with this constant process of self-modification to meet the standards of others. If I have to change who I'm comfortable being and sacrifice my sense of self to be a little more palatable for you, then I'm very sorry but you aren't worth the work it would take to make you happy.


Give me one decent reason that the "me" I grew into isn't good enough for you. It's such a racket and it's a hampster wheel I hopped off of years ago.

I have just accepted that some days are worse than others. 99% of the time I'm so happy with the life I'm living, I forget the one I missed out on. It's those 1% days that are like poison in my blood. Just a drop and a few heartbeats later, I'm septic.

But not Lilah. Never Lilah. Not as long as I'm breathing. For her it's pure air, blue skies, clear water, and unconditional acceptance from the people who made her. She was "good enough" from the moment she was born and she's exceeded my expectations ever since.