Sunday, August 23, 2015

Even Grown-Ups Need Grown-Ups Sometimes

It has been a quite some time since I have shared a post in which I spoke of my grandma.  However, today, I am missing her like crazy.  Actually it has only been in the last few hours where I've missed her so much it hurts.  You see, a lot of women have moms where they can go and talk to them about everything, where they can seek advice, tell them about their day, and all those other joys.  If not a mom, then well an aunt or woman of sorts.  Me, I had my grandma.  In some ways my grandma was like a mom to me, well, in a lot of ways, but mostly because she just was there for me.  I could talk to her about absolutely anything and she didn't try to fix it, correct, berate me, one up me, belittle me, hurt me, chastise me, or turn it into something about her by cutting me off mid sentence. 

My grandma was the best.  In the last couple years of her life her memory wasn't the best, and with that came some moments when talking with her were more difficult than others, but still I would.  I could call grandma any time of the day, and  you know what?  I did.  The wee hours of the morning, yep.  The middle of the night, yep.  Even during Letterman she'd turn off the TV just to talk with me.  She's been gone for over two years now and I have not had another big girl conversation with anyone since.  Now, don't get me wrong, I talk a lot and have conversations with a lot of people; I mean the essence of my career is talking.  Ha!  But to have a conversation where I could just share and be free to share. Not a one.

And here I am today, tears running down my face because I struggle to know why I am not accepted by the "grow-up" women in my life.  Why I'm constantly made to feel like I'm a burden, or a pest, or merely just that person who is taking up space in their life.  This hurts.  I will not deny that I am very self-sufficient, I am quite capable of taking care of my own and I will be the last person to ask anyone for help.  It is just not me to do so, but to be reminded that there really isn't anyone who remotely cares, that hurts.  And by anyone, I mean grown-ups, you know, those in the generation before mine. (My hubby cares and he does listen to me quite well.) It all makes me what to scream from the top of my lungs, "what is wrong with me?"

I'm sure the answer is quite obvious and I'm simply too dense to see that it is staring me straight in the face.  Until then, I seriously just wish, I had a grown-up to talk to, but you know, hey, we can't all have our cake and eat it too.  Besides, to think that this is a problem that only I suffer from is quite selfish on my part.  Excuse me while I go put my big girl panties on and continue to take care of myself.  Who needs grown-ups anyway?!

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