Desperation

Last week my parents called to sing me “Happy Birthday.” They do it every year and I’ve made them promise to continue for as long as we three shall live. As usual my father harmonized then got off the phone so my mom and I could talk. As we caught up the conversation turned to my blog. Yes she reads it, but no she doesn’t understand it. “I mean are you writing about things that actually happen or are these just dreams you’re making up?” she asked.

I clarified that the title I’m Gonna Dream Out Loud is simply about putting my intentions out into the world as a step towards making them come true, but that yes the things I write about actually happen. I’m not exactly lost in a dream world, I continued. I do have a firm grip on reality. Her response was simple and to the point, as my mother always is. “You just sound so desperate all the time.”

Now before you cringe for me, or side with her, allow me to set some facts straight. My mother is an Aries, the stubborn ram. She is a staunch atheist, somewhat stoic, a tomboy. My mother does not pray. I doubt she makes wishes and I’m certain she doesn’t chant the names of ancient Hindu gods and goddesses or make shrines to her unfulfilled desires. A fire sign who gave birth to two water sign daughters, one a dreamy Pisces, the other a caretaker Cancer, both spiritually minded, overly emotional vegetarians. It’s no wonder we have forever seemed foreign to her. You kinda just want to hug her and tell her it’ll be all right, except she doesn’t need you to.

She has also stood by me in every decision I’ve ever made with utmost trust, regardless of how odd it may sound to her. Her unconditional love has nothing to do with whether she understands me or not.

It is with this information firmly rooted in my mind and heart that I can hear her say, “You just sound so desperate” and not flail myself onto the bed in a wash of tears. We have grown to respect our differing opinions and even, almost, find humor in them. She doesn’t pick on me, she doesn’t nag or set out to offend and she’s one of few people who can say something direct to me without crushing my soul.

So I can’t help but grin as I add my bed & breakfast sketches to my shrine box along with a specification of the kind of man I’d like to attract: someone who is ready to meet me.

What would Momo think of it all? She would find it useless and maybe disappointing, but she would keep that to herself. Perhaps she would outwardly sigh at its ridiculousness. She would definitely roll her eyes and wonder how in the world she ended up with a daughter who puts faith into something that seems so unreal.

Sharing my hopes and dreams helps me move towards making them come true. Talking about ideas makes them real and attainable. I love this fleshed out version of me that can live in the joy of being serious and ridiculous at the same time. And if living my best life while hoping for even better is the picture of desperation, then I have to say I’m fine with that.

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2 thoughts on “Desperation”

  1. I love this post so much, and then I read your mom’s comment and love it even more. As a daughter who didn’t get a mom’s unconditional love, I read about your relationship with a bit of envy, and a lot of joy for both you and your mom.

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  2. On the contrary….Momo doesn’t think your shrine box is useless or dissapointing and …yes I must admit to a sigh or two…but not for the reason you think. As I grow older, I find myself learning from my daughters. But putting what I am learning into practice is a somewhat slow journey…especially the part I need to focus on most and that is to “lighten up”. Having said that…we shall continue to stand by eachother.. All my love, Momo

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