Tonight, I am creating an emotional stew, a conglomeration of ingredients thrown into a steaming a cauldron of mixed emotions. A phone call tonight has my cauldron overflowing.
The contents of the phone call were rather non-descript. A little chit-chat about mutual friends and current events. But a simple throwaway remark from my friend threw me into a state of meditation regarding my past, and led me to a brutally honest self-assessment of my many failures in my personal life. As I contemplate the litany of bad decisions my life has been, I realize there is one common denominator throughout the whole string of misdeeds and poor critical thinking episodes I have experienced- My Mother.
Don't get me wrong. I loved my mother very much while she was still alive, and I miss her terribly sometimes. But as I look back at my life, I realize that it was her decisions regarding my life and my upbringing that contributed to the mess I am today. My friend who called me referred to another one of our mutual friends from "back in the day" as a former lover. No big deal, I thought, although I was shocked. You see, we were all part of a religious group with very strict standards. Through my conversations with my friend, it has become clear to me that I was the only teen in the congregation who abided by the rules. This revelation, to be frank about it, pisses me off. I missed out on the fun, the sexual hijinks, the altered state of mind from illicit substances, and all because my mom taught me this was how it was supposed to be.
I now realize that I missed out on what should have been the best years of my life, and for what? Because of the religion, I had no fun. Because of the religion, I was ridiculed. Because of the religion, I lived a life of frustration and humiliation. And most horrifying of all, because of the religion, I shunned the one true love I've had in my life, only to live with that regret ever since.
I left that religion when I was old enough, but the damage was done. I cannot reclaim my youth, and the fun I missed out on. I cannot wipe away the emotional and mental scars the resulting life events have etched so painfully into my memory. I can only look back, and get angry.
I'll wake up tomorrow, go to work, and do the same monotonous adult things I've done since I moved out of my mom's house. I'll go to dinner with one lady or another, maybe have the occasional night of libations, and whatever simple pleasures life at my age may afford me.
But I will never be able to have the youth I wanted. My mom took those years away from me, and as much as I loved her, I cannot forgive her for that.
I guess I can add a pinch of shame to that cauldron now...
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