Time Wounds All Heels

In case you didn't notice, Sunday was Mother's Day. Guess what? It didn't suck for me this year. I was actually able to look at the endless sentimental Facebook posts - mostly adults praising their elderly mothers - and think it was sweet and nice and not get sent into a rage/sadness/jealousy/self-pity downward spiral. 

I'm not sure what the difference was, except the passage of time. It seems like an eternity since my mother re-surfaced, swearing off our old religion and promising to return to the US and start over, only to disappear as soon as my sister refused to financially support her. I remember having an overwhelming urge to break everything in the kitchen, but I'll be darned if I can remember if that was last year or the year before. It's all lost in a miasma of dance world drama, election nightmares and children's tantrums. Time wounds all heels, eh?

The Boyfriend asked what I wanted to do and I asked for a chill day in nature not involving crowded restaurants. He woke me up with flowers and breakfast and an ice cream maker (my request), then we went to the beach to fly kites, came home and had some family time in the hot tub. The day was very enjoyable. Having another adult to look out for things like that for you definitely helps. 

I had an odd moment in Korea. Our final night we did several encores, which are almost always instrumentals. Since it was such a hit last year, though, we threw in a vocal for me, "Georgia On My Mind". As I walked up to the mic, the crowd inhaled and grasped their hands together with anticipation. This is always a little terrifying to me because it's rare that people pay attention - we always play for dancers who could care less if I'm singing or not as long as the beat is good. I naturally shy away from attention - I can only be in this band because the guitar player is really the star, not me. But at that moment I told myself, "it's ok for it to be about you, now." As the child of a narcissist I really struggle with that. Even as I thought it, I felt myself denying it. No, it's not ok for it to be about me, ever. And yet, you get up on stage to sing, or run an event, or Mother's Day rolls around, and you have to let it be about you. Just once. And you have to learn how to be ok with that. 

So I sang my song and everyone cried and applauded and I was gracious as I died a little bit inside, and the children gave me hugs and "I love you"s and cute preschool presents and I was gracious as I died a little bit inside, and it was ok. And next year will be even better.