My mom's 7th anniversary of her death is coming in less than two months. That means in one more year, it'll have been 8 years since she died. I was sixteen when she was found dead. In one year, I'll have spent half as much time without her, as I did with her. Which means in nine short years, I'll have spent more time on this earth without my mom, than I did with her.
I know nine years probably seems far away. But for me, it's not. I don't want that day to come. That day where a majority of my life will have been spent with no mom there to guide me, no mother-daughter talks, no laughing at her stupid, silly, sometimes perverted (okay, usually perverted) humor. I'll have been a motherless daughter for far too long.
I am terrified that one day the memories I have of her will slip away, entirely. And she'll just become this blank image of a woman I once knew as my mother. I'll be able to see her silhouette but nothing more than that. I'm scared that one day, it'll stop hurting completely. I'll be able to fully 100% live with the fact that I am a motherless daughter. And I pray and pray that day never comes. The day it stops hurting, is the day I've stopped missing her. The day the grief is no longer there. And I'm afraid that if I stop grieving her, it'll mean I don't miss having her in my life. And I worry that day will come because one day, I will have outlived my mother. One day, I will have more memories on this earth without her, than I do with her.
I don't ever want to stop missing her or loving her or stop crying over her. I sit here trying to remember specific memories with her and I just always feel like I come up short. Like there aren't enough memories there. There wasn't enough time there. I didn't pay attention enough, observe her enough, almost like I didn't care enough.
And now I lay her without her, unable to do anything to change that. I can't make more memories. I can't ask her questions. I can't get to know her. My biggest fear is forgetting her. Right now, it feels like all my memories of her are on DVDs and I should be able to play them over and over and over. But I can't. They're all scratched and I can only get little clips here and there that show me who she was to me, what she meant to me, what kind of person she was, what we did when we spent our time together. But it doesn't paint a whole picture. There's so much that feels like it's missing. Painted in black. Scratched out. And I can never recover any of it. It's all lost, somewhere. And I can never add to it. It's an unfinished canvas of a mother-daughter relationship, and forever, it'll remain incomplete.
I've tried to learn this. I try to observe more, pay more attention, so that one day, when other people I care for die, I'll have these specific concrete memories I can draw from.
Like my dad.. I go to his house every week for dinner. He might think it's because I don't want to cook for myself. Or because I don't want to spend money on groceries. But it's because it's a memory I want to have of him. To think back to all the weekly dinners we had. I'll be able to say that he made dinner for us, always letting me get my plate first. We'd sit down and watch the 5:30 news on Channel 13. After would be NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, followed by the 6:00 news then Wheel of Fortunate after. Sometimes we'd talk about the news topics, other times we wouldn't say much. But I always finished my dinner before he got even half of his ate. We always tried to guess the Wheel of Fortune puzzles, he is usually better than me. I always love when he bitched about work. He is such a calm, laid back person that I love when he actual states an opinion about something or talks about changing things to make himself happy. He always seemed to be so focused on my happiness that it's a nice change to see him thinking about himself. And every night I leave, I'd thank him for the dinner and he would say "I'll send ya bill. Drive safe, the deer are out!" And I would be on my way.
Losing my mom and feeling like there aren't enough memories there to get me through the rest of my years without her, has made building memories and paying attention that much more important. I'm going to lose my dad someday. I'm going to lose one of my best friends someday. Depending on how long I live, I could end up losing a lot of people I care about.
At 23 years old, there may not be many things I am aware of. But one thing I do know I am aware of, is I have one regret in my entire life. And that was not cherishing the moments I had with my mom nearly enough. So I continue to challenge myself to cherish all my moments. I make it a conscious decision to pay attention to the details about my life, about my loved ones.
Like my friend Cassie.. I've always known how much she loves to laugh and how easy it is to make her laugh with her quirky sense of humor but now it's one of the things I appreciate the most about her and it's something I'll always be able to remember. Like laying in bed for one of our many sleepovers and she would lay there and read the silliest (and sometimes really lame) jokes but she would let all of her laughter out, not holding back an ounce of it. And I love that about her. I actually even envy that quality she has.
I strive to appreciate my job and every single one of my clients. And when I'm with them, I try to stop thinking about everything else going on in my life and focus on them. Because even though I am there to help them, they are teaching me things everyday, helping me to become a better social worker. I am not there with them just for a paycheck. I am there because our lives brought us together and for some reason I ended up as there worker. And I need to be alive, in that moment with them.
I need to be alive and presence in all my moments. It is easy to disappear when someone is talking about something we don't really care about or when our facebook notifications are blowing up or a cute boy is texting us. It's easy to forget about the moment just to try and capture a picture or tweet about it. It's easy to be listening to your friend talking to you about her life and for some reason your mind starts wandering off to all the things you have left to do today.
But I don't want to get lost and disappear anymore. I don't want to miss anymore memories. I don't want to have any regrets.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Celebrating My Mother's 45th Birthday
I'm 22 years old. My mother would have been 45 years old, tomorrow. It's been over six years since I've seen my mother, since I've talked to my mother, since I've felt her arms around me. I can't remember her voice. I can't hear her laugh anymore. Did she laugh obnoxiously loud or was she the silent laugh with her hands kind? I have no idea if her eyes were completely brown or if they had a hint of green like mine do. Was she just as bad of a singer as me? I couldn't tell ya.
Tomorrow's her birthday, I want to celebrate her but how am I supposed to do that when I can't remember anything about her? Why didn't I pay more attention to these things when she was alive? Why didn't I celebrate her then? I can't even tell you if I got her a gift for her last birthday. I have no idea if I saw her. I have no idea if I even wished her a happy birthday. But now that she isn't here with me, every year, there's a count down starting about a week or two before her birthday. Every year I plan exactly what I'm going to do - eat Reese's Cups and drink Mountain Dew because how much she loved them is something I do remember.
I don't know what kind of person can forget so much about someone who would call just about everyday to tell me she's so proud of me and how much she loves me. I know my brother and I were her world, we were her everything. And even though she was my world too, she was my rock, my strength, my supporter, my everything, I don't think I ever really took the time to let her know, to let her know just how much she means to me. That even though she made so many mistakes, her mistakes led me to my passion to help people who were dealt shitty cards in life. That if it weren't for her believing in me, I never would have believed in myself. From such a young age, she started a fire in my heart, a fire that burns with passion and with empathy to see every person's self worth, no matter their path in life.
When I was younger, about 10 years old, I remember telling my friends I love every person in the world and my friends would say "Even murderers? and people who rape other people?" and I would so innocently reply, "Yes." and my friends thought I was seriously messed up in the head. But it's because of my mother I felt such an innocent love for these people. I would tell my friends "Every person deserves love." And I remember this so clearly because my friends response was so opposite of what I was feeling and I couldn't explain it to them even though I so badly wanted to. My mom taught me that every person makes mistakes and the people we love so dearly may hurt us because of their mistakes but their mistakes say nothing about how much that person loves us and cares for us. And in my mind as a 10 year old, that meant to me, that just because someone harms others that doesn't mean that person should not be loved. My mom model this for me, showed me it really is possible to love those that harm us because despite those that had caused harm to her, including the man who shot her, she continued to love them and show them grace.
Everyday I work with parents who make mistakes that in turn affect their children and many people wonder "How could someone who loves their children so much do that to them?!" and I work with children everyday who are living in environments that don't have all the resources to allow them to succeed and reach their full potential. But I believe the reason why I can work with these family in such an optimistic way is because of the fire my mom ignited inside of me to see strength's in even the weakest people, in the families where you could easily justify giving up on them. Some may call me naive but I call myself a true believer.
Imagine if people gave up on my mom, imagine if people gave up on me and my brother, but they didn't. And while my mother did ultimately lose her battle, she was able to be a large part of my life for 16 years. My brother is an Airman and I'm a social worker. There is light in even the darkest of places. You just have to be willing to search for it and once you've found it, don't stop until it's shining brighter than the black of the darkness.
I think where this post has lead me, without even me realizing it, is I may not remember the tiny details about my mom like her voice, her laugh but there's something that is just as important about her that I do remember. I remember the lessons she taught me. And the amount of love she was constantly pouring over me. I'll never forget the way she made me feel. Even in her darkest times, her laugh and smile would remind me that everything is okay, that she is okay, that I'm going to be okay. Her heart was so full of love and she was so good to the core that her voice and essence would always make me feel so safe. She would remind me to laugh at every situation because life's too short to be taken seriously.
Everyone makes mistakes, some big, some small, some that hurt those around you. But your mistakes don't define who you are. My mother is not defined by her meth addiction. My mother is defined by the amount of love she gave to those around her, by her strength to keep her own light inside of her shining, by the life lessons she taught to those around her, including her children, without even recognizing she was doing it, her selfless-ness, her goofy, up beat personality that reminded me life is still good no matter the amount of shit that's been dumped on you.
And most importantly, I believe my mother is defined by her children. And this is because, I feel my life, my choices, my career path show that my mother's life lessons are carried on through me. Because even though I don't remember what her singing sounds like, the fire she started in my heart, continues to burn and continues to grow.
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So tomorrow when I celebrate my mother's birthday, I'll be enjoying a Reece's cup, a mountain dew but everyday I hope to celebrate her by spreading the amount of love she spread to me and those around her. That love is something that I will never forget.
Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.
Tomorrow's her birthday, I want to celebrate her but how am I supposed to do that when I can't remember anything about her? Why didn't I pay more attention to these things when she was alive? Why didn't I celebrate her then? I can't even tell you if I got her a gift for her last birthday. I have no idea if I saw her. I have no idea if I even wished her a happy birthday. But now that she isn't here with me, every year, there's a count down starting about a week or two before her birthday. Every year I plan exactly what I'm going to do - eat Reese's Cups and drink Mountain Dew because how much she loved them is something I do remember.
I don't know what kind of person can forget so much about someone who would call just about everyday to tell me she's so proud of me and how much she loves me. I know my brother and I were her world, we were her everything. And even though she was my world too, she was my rock, my strength, my supporter, my everything, I don't think I ever really took the time to let her know, to let her know just how much she means to me. That even though she made so many mistakes, her mistakes led me to my passion to help people who were dealt shitty cards in life. That if it weren't for her believing in me, I never would have believed in myself. From such a young age, she started a fire in my heart, a fire that burns with passion and with empathy to see every person's self worth, no matter their path in life.
When I was younger, about 10 years old, I remember telling my friends I love every person in the world and my friends would say "Even murderers? and people who rape other people?" and I would so innocently reply, "Yes." and my friends thought I was seriously messed up in the head. But it's because of my mother I felt such an innocent love for these people. I would tell my friends "Every person deserves love." And I remember this so clearly because my friends response was so opposite of what I was feeling and I couldn't explain it to them even though I so badly wanted to. My mom taught me that every person makes mistakes and the people we love so dearly may hurt us because of their mistakes but their mistakes say nothing about how much that person loves us and cares for us. And in my mind as a 10 year old, that meant to me, that just because someone harms others that doesn't mean that person should not be loved. My mom model this for me, showed me it really is possible to love those that harm us because despite those that had caused harm to her, including the man who shot her, she continued to love them and show them grace.
Everyday I work with parents who make mistakes that in turn affect their children and many people wonder "How could someone who loves their children so much do that to them?!" and I work with children everyday who are living in environments that don't have all the resources to allow them to succeed and reach their full potential. But I believe the reason why I can work with these family in such an optimistic way is because of the fire my mom ignited inside of me to see strength's in even the weakest people, in the families where you could easily justify giving up on them. Some may call me naive but I call myself a true believer.
Imagine if people gave up on my mom, imagine if people gave up on me and my brother, but they didn't. And while my mother did ultimately lose her battle, she was able to be a large part of my life for 16 years. My brother is an Airman and I'm a social worker. There is light in even the darkest of places. You just have to be willing to search for it and once you've found it, don't stop until it's shining brighter than the black of the darkness.
I think where this post has lead me, without even me realizing it, is I may not remember the tiny details about my mom like her voice, her laugh but there's something that is just as important about her that I do remember. I remember the lessons she taught me. And the amount of love she was constantly pouring over me. I'll never forget the way she made me feel. Even in her darkest times, her laugh and smile would remind me that everything is okay, that she is okay, that I'm going to be okay. Her heart was so full of love and she was so good to the core that her voice and essence would always make me feel so safe. She would remind me to laugh at every situation because life's too short to be taken seriously.
Everyone makes mistakes, some big, some small, some that hurt those around you. But your mistakes don't define who you are. My mother is not defined by her meth addiction. My mother is defined by the amount of love she gave to those around her, by her strength to keep her own light inside of her shining, by the life lessons she taught to those around her, including her children, without even recognizing she was doing it, her selfless-ness, her goofy, up beat personality that reminded me life is still good no matter the amount of shit that's been dumped on you.
And most importantly, I believe my mother is defined by her children. And this is because, I feel my life, my choices, my career path show that my mother's life lessons are carried on through me. Because even though I don't remember what her singing sounds like, the fire she started in my heart, continues to burn and continues to grow.
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Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Untitled (2)
I have always had a dream, to run away, to a new place far enough away that the "Wauters" reputation can't follow me or find me. Pack up my belongings, drive till the land turns blue, settle down and begin a new Wauters family tradition. Go to a place where when I'm asked who my mother is and my answer is "Denise Wauters" they won't automatically know that I come from that family and there isn't the reaction of "wait.. you're Denise's daughter? and you're doing this well for yourself?"
I don't know how to share my passions with people I have relationships with without sharing my past. Whenever I have a new relationship, I have a constant battle on knowing when and how or if I even should share my past because I know it's such a large part of who I am and without understanding my past, I don't feel like people can truly understand me. It makes things extremely complicated for me, like I'm going through a maze and I have no idea if sharing my past be the right turn to build the relationship or if it will lead me to a road block. My past isn't something I can tell just anyone but at the same time I have such a strong urge to tell people because I feel it's the only way they'll truly know who I am.
I hope for a day when someone can know me, really know me, without needing to know my past. But at this point in my life, if I am beginning a relationship with someone, I feel as though until they know of my past, they can't know me.
And it breaks my heart to know I am defined by my past. I want to be able to start fresh and just be me. Not the girl who overcame adversities. I hope my path of self discovery can lead me to that one day. And that each day I continue to take steps to create myself, to find out who I am so that one day, I can feel like even if someone doesn't know my past, it doesn't mean they don't understand me.
I really question myself on if that's really possible. All the reasons why I do what I do, why I have the passions and morals I do, why I love and receive love the way I do, is because of my past. I don't have the power to change my past or the way it has impacted me. And I know everyone's past has shaped them, it's not just me who is shaped by their past. But I have this really strong urge to want to have a separate identity from my past but I want it to still be an identify that is true to myself. I don't want to pretend to be somebody I am not.
This is something I am struggling with so much. This isn't my first post about my past being my identity and wanting to get away from it. I honestly wish I knew what to do here because I am stuck and I feel like I am banging my head on a wall because like I said, I can't change my past or it's affects on me. But my biggest desire right here, right now, is just feeling like someone can know me and more importantly, understand me, without knowing about my past. I wonder why that is something I want so badly.
Don't get me wrong, I am not ashamed of my past. This dream of eloping isn't because I want to deny who I am and where I came from. I have my mother to thank for shaping me and molding me into the person I am today, I could never deny her. My dream isn't about running away from my past as much as it is about creating my own identify for myself.
In some ways, I know I have already done this by achieving goals I have laid out for myself. But I can't shake my past. I don't know how to fit it into who I am today.
For instance, I was transporting a client I work with to a doctor's appointment and during the drive we were talking and somehow we figured out that she knew my mother. She used to party with my mother and knew me when I was a little girl. And one thing she said during this conversation was "Wow, no one ever thought you would do anything." When I was in high school and college a comment like this would make me really proud.. I would think "That's right, I am not a statistic, I beat the odds." But now, I wish when people did find out about the past I overcame that my achievements wouldn't be about the fact that I overcame adversities.
And I wish I could understand why I don't want it to be about my past anymore, but I absolutely don't. I wish I knew what I did want it to be about but I have no idea.
I mean.. for people who didn't have to overcome the adversities I did and they make the same achievements I did.. what do people say to them?
I am just so sick of hearing that I wasn't expected to do anything. Because really, it honestly hurts my feelings so much to know that at the age of 5, at the age of 8, at the age of 10 and whatever other age, I was already being casted as someone who wouldn't achieve anything. How can people make that judgement about someone who is so young and whose life hasn't even started yet?
And I wish I could understand why I don't want it to be about my past anymore, but I absolutely don't. I wish I knew what I did want it to be about but I have no idea.
I mean.. for people who didn't have to overcome the adversities I did and they make the same achievements I did.. what do people say to them?
I am just so sick of hearing that I wasn't expected to do anything. Because really, it honestly hurts my feelings so much to know that at the age of 5, at the age of 8, at the age of 10 and whatever other age, I was already being casted as someone who wouldn't achieve anything. How can people make that judgement about someone who is so young and whose life hasn't even started yet?
Am I proud of the things I have accomplished? Without a doubt, 100%. Do I know my past has shaped me and lead me to my passions? Yes, there is no denying that. But I want to figure out a way to not have my past be so strongly embedded into me.
I don't know how to share my passions with people I have relationships with without sharing my past. Whenever I have a new relationship, I have a constant battle on knowing when and how or if I even should share my past because I know it's such a large part of who I am and without understanding my past, I don't feel like people can truly understand me. It makes things extremely complicated for me, like I'm going through a maze and I have no idea if sharing my past be the right turn to build the relationship or if it will lead me to a road block. My past isn't something I can tell just anyone but at the same time I have such a strong urge to tell people because I feel it's the only way they'll truly know who I am.
I hope for a day when someone can know me, really know me, without needing to know my past. But at this point in my life, if I am beginning a relationship with someone, I feel as though until they know of my past, they can't know me.
And it breaks my heart to know I am defined by my past. I want to be able to start fresh and just be me. Not the girl who overcame adversities. I hope my path of self discovery can lead me to that one day. And that each day I continue to take steps to create myself, to find out who I am so that one day, I can feel like even if someone doesn't know my past, it doesn't mean they don't understand me.
I really question myself on if that's really possible. All the reasons why I do what I do, why I have the passions and morals I do, why I love and receive love the way I do, is because of my past. I don't have the power to change my past or the way it has impacted me. And I know everyone's past has shaped them, it's not just me who is shaped by their past. But I have this really strong urge to want to have a separate identity from my past but I want it to still be an identify that is true to myself. I don't want to pretend to be somebody I am not.
This is something I am struggling with so much. This isn't my first post about my past being my identity and wanting to get away from it. I honestly wish I knew what to do here because I am stuck and I feel like I am banging my head on a wall because like I said, I can't change my past or it's affects on me. But my biggest desire right here, right now, is just feeling like someone can know me and more importantly, understand me, without knowing about my past. I wonder why that is something I want so badly.
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