Monday, March 17, 2014
I May or May Not Be Leaving on a Jet Plane
I'm tentatively planning a trip to London with my mom this year. I say tentatively, because I'm not actually sure I can do it -- leave my husband and child behind for 10 days. A few years ago, my husband and I had a week in New York, while my mom babysat. It was the most thrilling, romantic, fun, enjoyable second honeymoon possible, and yet I still cried pretty much daily over how much I missed my son.
My husband takes fairly regular business trips, which I've gotten used to, but the feeling of him being in China was a whole different animal to the feeling of him being in Vancouver or Philadelphia. I felt the distance. I know I will feel the distance even more when I'm the one on another continent.
People don't get this. I have not been able to find a single person I can talk to about it who understands or even takes my feelings seriously. "Oh, you'll be fine," everyone says.
Back when I was an adolescent, I was mocked by teachers for my attachment to my mom. A counselor I saw as a young adult obviously thought it was fucked up. I see it in my son now and think, yes, we do need to help him move away from us and find people outside his family to care about. But I don't judge or blame him for it. It's who he is.
Today I just feel like saying a big fuck you to everyone. This is who I am and there's fuck all I can do about it, even if I wanted to.