The older you get, the more you start to realize how right your mother was. Oh, how I wish I would have listened to her when she told me a friend of mine was no good. How could it be tho? We were so close and did almost everything together. Mom didn’t even know her and couldn’t possibly be right about this. Boy, was I wrong. To this day, I don’t always listen to my mom when she tells me she doesn’t like someone in my life.
She always tells me that I’m too kind and forgiving. Every time she says this, it’s followed by a story she loves to tell about when I was a child. The gleam in her eyes as she discusses it always makes me giggle. I can clearly see it bugs her that I’m this way but also happy I’m not bitter. The story goes like this.
It’s a hot day in Chicago, and we’re stuck in the hallway of our neighborhood church. I’m sitting on a bench with my mother while we wait our turn. The building is old, and the walls are either stained or falling apart. I look around at all the drawings from the kids before me. Art has always been a big part of my life. I would love walking down the halls and just admire it all. My mother is annoyed on the bench as I just acknowledge the rest of the kids waiting with their mothers. We’re all waiting to get the chance to enroll in our first communion class. Who the heck likes to go to church school on Friday nights or Saturday mornings? My mom is looking at a pamphlet when she hears me giggling like crazy. She directs her attention to another girl on the bench across from us. She’s apparently being extremely rude and making stupid faces at me. Giving me the stink eye and not being friendly. There I am just laughing at this girl because its hilarious to me. I didn’t see it as being mean, but she was. My mom, being this strong independent woman who always stood up for herself, was disappointed about my reaction.
I am all about energy and vibes. Why direct all my energy to something that won’t matter later? I don’t recall what my thoughts were then, but I’m glad I had that reaction. I chose to laugh and be happy rather than to worry about why she was being mean and didn’t like me. Directing my energy hasn’t been that easy with age. Growing up, I’ve always had an issue where girls automatically didn’t like me. Most of my friends told me they didn’t like me when they first met me. I thank my mom for that because I have her resting bitch face. I sweet girl with a severe case of RBF. It’s always had some energy from me; continually thinking about what I did, for them not to like me. They barely know me and they just don’t like me?
I’m tired of chasing people and trying to make them stay in my life. I chase and do what I feel they would do for me. Not even close. I’m too nice and believe in fairy tales. I do things for them because I love to show people I appreciate them and that I’m always there for them. I’m easily forgettable to them. Accusing me of not trying and that if I really wanted them around, I would work harder. Before we would go out all the time and now I’ve been replaced with someone else. When I stop trying, that’s when I’m the terrible person. That’s when the communication completely ends. The friendship ends. They have their lives and their plans, but I don’t? If you would get your head out of your ass long enough to worry about someone other than yourself you would see how fucking bad I need you. My friend.. my shoulder to cry on.. my person. I stopped responding because I’m going through my own shit.
According to my mother, I’m too sweet and that’s why people take advantage of me. She is right though. No one really cares about you. The older you get, the more you refer to your mother as your best friend, because unlike your other friends- she’ll always have your back.
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