Something about my mom’s voice is so soothing. I miss it so much. I know that she has done so many things wrong, so many things to hurt me, but there is a piece of me that longs for her in times like this. It’s a longing so deep no one can fill it, not even Bailey. I have a few clips from my childhood and tonight I couldn’t watch it enough. I haven’t watched it in a really long time but it was like I never quite watching it to begin with. The goofy voices of my family, the dysfunction of the togetherness, the monotony of the tones all seemed so soothing. The lure to engage but lack of ability, the chaos, the distance of connection all seemed so familiar and in an instant it all seemed so real, like it was happening right here. And for a moment, I felt a piece of complex simplicity run back into my life. My whole reality diminished and once again I was in my Nana’s kitchen singing her a song. I was standing in the corner for something I didn’t do, my mom and dad were fighting and then asking who we’d rather live with, my mom was screaming at me and then pushing me into the wall, splitting my lip. I wasn’t 21 anymore. I was in the midst of chaos and it felt good. It was so real. Then reality kicked in; that’s not my life anymore. My comfort should not depend on the anger in my mom’s voice or the goofiness of her high. It should come from the love and support that is surrounding me where I am, but sometimes it’s not enough. It is appreciated, and most of the time welcomed, but there are times when there is a void so deep that the love that surrounds me can’t reach. When that happens, I don’t know what to do! I fight. I refuse the love I do get from Bailey and Zhanna and sulk in my misery wishing my own mom was here to love me. I deny the affection of all who offer because I don’t like the way it feels. A part of me needs to be in the chaos of the past. A part of me strives for normalcy and healthiness but the other part refuses to allow the links of my past to diminish.