Doing All The Things: Mediocre Ramblings About Stuff

 Evening, Subheading: "How these little abandonments seem to sting so easily. I'm thirteen again; am I thirteen for good?" As mentioned in the title, this is part two of an entry on the topic of abandonment. If you haven't read the first then I'd suggest doing that.  I don't believe that all of our movement through life and our decision making processes can be blamed on our past- but it doesn't take a psychiatrist to know that the past certainly comes into play. I don't trust easily, romantically or otherwise. I think people have this perception about me that, because I am open and honest about my life and feelings, that this equates to a certain level of trust. I'm learning that, honestly, it's a bit of the opposite.  I used to choose to only trust certain people with things that I share openly now in blogs and on social media. Things about my childhood, my views on love, religion, politics. Sharing those things made me feel safe with someone,...

Evening, Subheading: On Abandonment. I will preface this piece with the following disclaimer: I have no idea where this is going; I just know I need to get some thoughts out. When I was a baby, my Mom moved to California and left me behind. I know that's a loaded place to start a story, but it was the beginning of my life, and a pattern. She moved back after a couple years, but I was raised primarily by my Grandparents until I was about 5 years old. I have memories of waiting by the door for my Mom to come visit me. Sometimes she came and sometimes she didn't, but I remember this unwavering conviction that this time would be the time she showed up. Every single time I'd tell my Grandparents, "Mom is coming. She promised." I wish I could tell you that I outgrew those baseless beliefs, or that my Mom started to show up for me as I got older, but that would be a lie. When I was about five years old, give or take, my Mom met a man named Glenn. I remember meeting him i...