There were some good moments today, perhaps. At least in my head anyway.

The morning was painful, from what I remember. Just disorganized attachment at its worst. Can’t even remember what I thought. I did think later, what am I even supposed to do about this? What even helps? I have no idea. I don’t know why it’s happening or what I am supposed to do and no one else really seems to know either although there are a lot of people who seem very confident about their not knowing.

I administered an exam. Somewhere in the middle—lots of time for thoughts—I began to think I really needed my mom. I was thinking about my mother’s constant interruption, which I inevitably rejected. I was angry at her. She came looking for connection and I pushed her away because I needed her so much, and I was so angry at my need and her lack of capacity to meet that need. That seemed to open up something in me. I have never really thought of my mother that way. I think I find it hard to even really think of her as a human being, but all of my pondering of myself and VP Ma’am and C has humanized her to me in some way. I was so angry and I needed her so much.

It’s like I thought of her as a machine standing in my way, an obstacle and the universe was unfair for providing me with no mother when I needed. No, there was a mother. It was her. And I needed her to take care of me.

So I think that was good.

I think about something like that with C. She needs her mother to be her mother, and her mother can’t be her mother, because there is something very deeply wrong—trauma or mental illness or something. She needs her mom to be her mom. I am trying to help, but I can’t do what she needs her mom to do. I think C sometimes C feels angry at me for not being able to mother her the way she needs. I don’t think she can even consider that she might be angry at her own mom.

I think I felt that way as a child. I was so angry at my mother, but I couldn’t understand why I was angry. I could never have guessed I was angry at her for not rocking me or feeding me or responding to me as a baby and instead terrorizing and then later not being able to support me through the problems this caused for me. I needed her support in working through the trauma after the neglect was less significant and the abuse had mostly stopped. I needed her so much.

But I think that never quite connected for me. I couldn’t quite expect my mom to be my mom and to take care of me, and I felt so angry and betrayed by everyone else instead.

Grief is so complicated.