My mom is here for a visit. It's her first visit down here since we lost my dad in February. And it's strange.
One minute it's great. The next it's terrible. There are times where I'm frustrated with her and then I feel guilty. Really guilty.
I haven't been on the computer. I haven't blogged. I feel disconnected. I don't like it.
I'm still that middle schooler. I don't want to let my mom in. I don't want her to know what I'm doing. I don't want her to judge me. I like my independence. I like my privacy.
I want to share things with her. I want to make her happy. I just don't know how. We've been dancing this same dance for years. I don't think we can change. We don't have any other moves. The floor is worn. The grooves are too deep.
I've been feeling this tug-of-war for the past few weeks. The ballerinas, LB's teacher, BSD, and my mom are on one end of the rope, all needing attention. I'm on the other end pulling with all my might just to keep myself from drowning emotionally.
It will get better. In two days, LB's teacher will drop the rope. In another week, my mom's grip will loosen too. And then, I hope to get back to this blogging gig. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it makes me happy. And keeps me sane.