Let me just preface this post by saying that I'm 26 years old. 26. That's an adult, for all intensive purposes. I can drive. I can vote. I can drink. I can rent a car. I'm old enough to do anything an adult can do short of running for president and signing up for AARP. So why do I feel like such a child?
An infant, even?
I got some weird news today that I expected but didn't necessarily want to hear:
My mother is getting married.
I want to be happy for her. I love my mom very much. I'm just afraid she'll get hurt. She's been engaged twice since my Dad passed away in 2003. The first time it didn't work out. Who knows what will happen this time? I want the best for her. I want to be happy to her. But she's only known this man a month. One month! And she's getting married? I know that she is an adult fully capable of making sound decisions. I trust her. But she is my mother. I want her to be happy. I want her to be safe. I want to protect her. To what extent is that my place? She is the mother and I am the child.
Who knows, he could be a really nice guy. They could be very in love. They could have a happy marriage. It just doesn't feel right to me. Then again, this isn't about me.
I've tried to convince myself for the last seven years that it doesn't bother me when my mom dates a man. My father is gone. I understand that. He isn't coming back. I know he wouldn't want my mother to be alone. I don't want her to be alone either. But part of me doesn't want to share her. How messed up is that? I guess I feel that by marrying someone else, a part of the perfect life and family unit we used to have (she as mother, father as father, me as child, brother as brother) is dashed all to hell when she marries this guy. All I have left are the memories of that perfect home and childhood. I feel like that's being threatened. Then again, this isn't about me.
Besides, there are so many questions.
Will she change her last name?
Will she have to move?
Will she still be buried beside my father?
What if she loves him more than she loved Daddy?
I can't and won't influence her decision. I made mine. I packed everything I owned and moved out west. To Las Vegas. To California. To places so magical and far away they seemed make believe. I left her behind. And I didn't look back. Who am I to be upset if she does the same thing?
I would never tell her these things. I don't want to rain on her proverbial parade. I think part of the reason this bothers me so much is because I don't have any control.
Hello, eating disorder.
I can't control this situation. This is out of my hands. This is not my decision. It makes me want to restrict. I haven't had an appetite since I found out from her about it all this morning.
Why am I being such a baby?
The hardest thing I've ever had to do is grow up.