And the old Facebook account
My mother and I are estranged.
After trying many old email addresses I could think of, I gained access to the Facebook account I had throughout from around 2007-2010 after trying and successfully attempting to not see the ‘this email is not associated with Facebook’ message in a red message box above the login form. The winning email address was my name at 6birds.net. XD
I un-deactivated it. It was reactivated, and I was looking for and finding certain pictures.
…however, there were other things to unveil in looking through said pictures:
- how it hurts to see pictures of my mom and I happy together;
- how it pains me deeply to see pictures of my siblings and remember those moments, only to be reminded I haven’t seen them in two years;
- how annoying my ex, CG, really was and how bad we were for each other, as well as how possessive and untrustworthy he was; and
- how painful it was when I realized the account has my mom on the friends’ list.
Finding old pictures of myself turned into a painful experience.
I looked. I looked at my mom’s profile, and even remembering seeing her happy without me, her firstborn daughter, creates this horrendous ache in my chest I didn’t know I could have.
I realized I still don’t fully understand how or why a mother can/could hate her daughter so much and be able to just live life on as if said daughter never existed.
Honestly, the whole mother-and-child-love thing is something I still struggle accepting I might never have. I crave it to the point that I would give up dance if it meant my mom would love me — that I would succumb and change into something she would accept if it meant she would love me unconditionally and indefinitely — but that’s toxic.
And when I realized how much of a parasite the account was, I decided to quickly make an escape. It was triggering, and I saved the photos as quickly as I could. I can always go back later and gather all the photos, or maybe there’s a person with the strength to gather them all for me that I don’t know about yet. Maybe there’s an easier way I just have yet to think up.
I remembered and felt the betrayal from my mom and lard and ex-boyfriend, CG, and I realized I probably never fit or belonged in their lives in a positive, less dramatic way.
And I re-deactivated it.
And I am okay… and now I know my limits. I’m glad I did that.
…and before I did that, I took some selfies. It has been over a year since I’ve taken any, let alone taken any pictures of myself. I’m making progress.1
…and no, I don’t regret what happened between my mother and I. It’s not my fault — I realize that now — and I can’t change her, so why should I feel like it’s my fault? 🙂
- It might be worth mentioning I’ve been investing myself more into things I enjoy and have found hope in various departments and things, e.g. I really might be able to dance for the rest of my life. ↩