I went home last weekend. Well, I went home on the Thursday before last weekend. I should have blogged sooner but the anti-depressants, or whatever, are still sucking all the energy out of me and its difficult to do just about anything. I’m so tired and so lazy.
Anyway, home.
I went home on Thursday afternoon. My mother picked me up from the station, and we went back home and cooked supper together, and talked. It was surprising how gentle and unheated the conversation was, how nice it was. So often my mother and I have nothing to say, or we can only pick at each other. But we talked easily this time, and we had a pleasant meal together, then we went upstairs to get ready for an evening out – my mother, my sister and I all together to go and see a ballet. A girls night out. The first time in a long, long time that my mother had got to spend with both her daughters. My mother was excited, which made me happy. I was the one who had arranged this, who had listened to me my mother asking to spend more time together and done something about it. I am trying so, so hard to develop a better relationship with my mother- being more patient, being more interested, contacting her more often, even if its just a random text to show her the progress on my cross stitch, or to recommend a book she may like. I’m 22 and it feels stupid that I’m still clinging to the hurt my mother gave to me when I was a teenager. I hurt her too, after all. And now time has passed and its time to let go. It helps of course that I’m not living with my mother – a certain distance between us is helpful, but its important not to let the distance get too great. I am trying to be mature. I can learn to trust and depend on my mother a little bit more.
Anyway, my mother told me how my father had given her a list of things not to say, which made me laugh. I could imagine my father fretting about the evening – knowing how rocky the relationship between us three is, wondering if it were even possible for us to spend several hours together without killing each other.
I had thought about inviting my dad too, almost felt bad about not, but I wanted it to be a girls night. I wanted to give my mother time with her daughters alone. Its important to remember that just as I like getting my parents say, without my sister, they like to get their kids to themselves sometimes. My dad certainly gets my sister and I to himself a lot – we are daddy’s girls all the way. But my mother deserved an evening with her girls. So I did not allow myself to feel too bad.
My sister arrived to come pick us up and she was in a terrible mood which made me nervous. Well, the evening went very well. We went to see Inala, a Zulu ballet with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and the music and dancing was fantastic, even if the overall message was confusing and unclear. It was very experimental. A great experience though. And we had a good night out. Except for my mother and sister fighting on the way home we got through the evening unscathed and maybe even managed to enjoy each others company. I could tell my mother was happy, and that made me happy. My sister remained in a foul mood which was disappointing, although it being a work night it was probably understandable.
The next day I went hiking with my father, which I really need to get round to writing about. It was very intense but very rewarding. I love going walking with my father.
I was tired and stiff by Saturday, but I had to wake up early as I was going shopping with my sister and for whatever reason my sister, who used to be late for everything, is now pushing for early, on-time starts (she gave my mother and I hell the Thursday night for being 5 minutes late, as if we have not spent years waiting around for her.) After my sisters foul mood on Thursday I was nervous about meeting with her. I admit I was also nervous because I made some personal confessions to her a few weeks back, and I wasn’t sure if it was going to be awkward between us now she knew. It turned out I was worrying for nothing. We had so much fun together, and a very successful shopping trip to boot. We talked practically non-stop and blew through both our budgets, and had a delicious dinner of American diner food. (Is there anything better? I had a hot dog with bacon and BBQ sauce and mayonnaise. And sweet potato fries with the same condiments. So fattening, so good.)
I love being around my sister, and yeah, I loved spending money on myself. I have to spend money though – I’ve long outgrown my old wardrobe and I needed to let myself let go of it. The other week, I took some photos of my old jeans and put them on Ebay – just like that. No hesitation. I cannot go on any longer thinking I’ll fit back into them. I’m bigger now, but healthier and the only way I’ll get smaller is by giving in to my disordered eating. I won’t do that. So I’m getting rid of my old pants and I went out and bought new pants in a significantly larger size – my sister there to reassure me that I looked fine, that I was not fat. I’m glad my sister was there.
My new jeans do look fantastic on me though. I’m not satisfied with my figure, but I’m getting there. I can recognise that having curves isn’t necessary a bad thing, even if its not what I want to be. I shouldn’t get so hung up on what the label says anyway – its how I feel, and how the clothes look on me. My new jeans fit, perfectly. They are larger than what I want but I look good in them. I feel good in them. I also bought some fitted sweaters – too long I’ve been hiding my figure in baggy tops, ashamed. I will try to show off my figure a bit more – and maybe eventually be proud of it.
Come Sunday, I was ready for a day at home and that is mostly what happened. I went to buy groceries with my dad, then my sister came around, and my mom came home from work, and we had a proper Sunday roast all together. There was some bickering, but it still felt great to be around my family. To have all of us be together. It felt a bit like an occasion – we only ever have a roast dinner on Christmas – and so it felt special. Then I had a quiet day with my family, and on Monday I came back, in time for lectures to start on Tuesday.
It’s been a miserable week. After such a great weekend it was more than disappointing to find I’m still not feeling great, the great weekend was a distraction not a cure, and being back at university is not helping. There’s so many people around, and already so much to take in information wise. I’m still behind on my theses. I need to get my act together. It’s October already! But I’ve felt tired and weepy and overwhelmed all week. This week I’ll try again. I was in a good place just before I went home – had set up good habits, begun to take control, and I took several steps back this week. But I can get there again.