I got up early and went to church today in my new city. My beloved Pastor Barb from my beloved former church had sent me two possibilities where I could continue my relationship with God. I wasn’t really feeling either, so I picked the one that sounded more like a church “plant” than a “real” church.
The good news is, the church is two blocks from the Apple Store. Great choice, Goddess!
I was bored to absolute tears during the sermon. I miss our rock band and our American Idol-worthy musicians. I miss our bursting-with-personality pastors. I miss coming out and seeing my friends.
I was so bored that even I was appalled at how salacious my thoughts became as my mind wandered. I mean, I always think about sex while I’m in church. But today my mind really went there. 
It was a similar setup. Lots of singing and such before the message. OK use of TV screens to show us the song lyrics and Bible passages. My old church used to use movie clips and other videos specially prepared for the presentation. I have no doubt that my former fellowship worked a hell of a lot harder between Sundays.
But it seems like they have a lot to offer here in the way of activities. I think I may finally make Barb proud and join a small group. (She’s been after me for a year and a half about that.) Hey, it’s a brand-new life for me down here — I may finally have the time to devote!
In other news …
OK, so I lost my Extended Houseguest for a while last night. I mean, I’m always trying to run the hell away and, since she refuses to drive anywhere, I often think about taking off while she’s not looking and making her find her own way back.
Hey, I could be plotting worse, you know! And don’t get me started on my sudden sympathy for Death Row inmates because I can UNDERSTAND in some cases what got them there.
She was as usual up my ass about taking her out yesterday. She will ask up to a dozen times a day; I usually don’t take the bait but I realize it’s easier to shut her the fuck up if I just take her out after 10 requests because she will KEEP ASKING.
Besides, my new life starts tomorrow, as far as I’m concerned, with starting the new job. So fine, I used the opportunity to lecture her on pretty much everything I’ve already lectured her on.
So we got to the beach (we were stopping for pizza in downtown and you have to park at the beach and hoof it). I decided I wanted to walk down to the water and hoof the block between the car and the pizza shop in the sand. I asked if she wanted to do that and she said yes.
So as I was doing the walk, she vanished. Like, did she fall in the water or take a stroke on the sand? I was feeling so free and giddy and not paying a whit of attention to her. In this short amount of time, the sun went down and it became nearly pitch-black. It’s not like beaches have floodlights so you’re taking your chances when you’re there at night.
I literally ran up and down the beach no fewer than three times but couldn’t find her. The good news here is that we’re all permanently windblown with faded makeup, so I could easily go into a restaurant looking all haggy and shit because EVERYONE ELSE DOES. But yeah, I could not find her.
I tried calling her cell 17 times. Which I learned later that she’d left it at home. With her keys, which she never carries. (Another point about which I lecture her; why does she insist on being completely dependent on me?)
I found her out by the car, after an hour of running around like a fool. But what was funny was that I didn’t find myself bartering with God — I didn’t do any of those, “If she’s OK, then I’ll be nicer to her” things. Funk dat. But I thought about it for a millisecond. Mostly I was just angry that she has a way of ruining all of my plans somehow.
She had gone back out to the street because she was exhausted. Because I was out frolicking and having a ball (I seriously do love it down here at the beach), and she just couldn’t keep up.
Suddenly I understood her — why she CLINGS to me and wants to do everything I do, go everywhere I go and basically not want to give me the space I crave. She spent her whole life caring for people as they got older and closer to the grave. When she had the youth and energy on her side, she was walking baby steps beside walkers, canes and wheelchairs. She could have run circles around the relatives; she just didn’t.
So maybe I represent that lost youth. That I’m unafraid and energetic and don’t want to miss out on a single thing in life. I’ve often said that it’s better to soar with the eagles than run with the turkeys, but I’ve said it in regard to the relationships I’ve been in. I never thought of myself as the eagle until now. (When did that happen?)
And while I’d never want to purposely hurt her (any more than she says I do because I give her the truth 100% of the time), I wonder if she realized that she really can’t keep up with me … on any level.
And on one hand, she shouldn’t stop trying, because I’m going places and there are worse people to emulate. But on the other hand, does she not see the pain and aggravation that dragging her weight too causes me? I mean, I’m feeling embarrassed that I have to keep bugging Tom and Tiff for tech support issues, but then I think how the roomie brings me everything from “you have to show me how to turn on the TV” and “you have to take me around the corner to the grocery store” and “how did those paper towels get over there,” and I just hope my questions are a little less annoying.
Anyway, like I say, I don’t mean to make her out to be the enemy. If nothing else, she’s always on my side. And she can wake up every day, completely forgetting the tension of the previous day. (Which bugs me because I can continue a fight for YEARS.)
But this was a breakthrough for me, to get that she wants to be not just like me, but I think she wants to be me. And refuses to accept that she can’t and, in trying to do so, my reaction is to get away as far and as fast as I can.
I basically said this is it; we need to live separate lives. Go do your own thing so that I can do mine. That’s what I’ve always expected in the past year and a half, and she’s lived in a completely different delusion that we’re still friends! That I love having my mommy in my house! That I enjoy doing things together! That buying two dinners is twice the fun!
One of my boys said to change the locks in six months. I passed that along last night. Because she doesn’t give a shit what I think, but when my famous friends weigh in, it starts to mean something.
I have a friend in a similar situation, and his mother is just downright unpleasant to be around. Mine is the opposite — she sparkles for strangers. As long as no one knows what’s going on, then everything MUST be fine. So this blog is a source of stress because she may not read it, but she knows it’s out there. And like I keep telling her, there’s one last chance to make me proud.
I’d rather be telling success stories. You’re more likely to hear a positive recommendation from me about someone than a negative one. But that means THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING POSITIVE to share.
I’ll keep praying for that positive thing. And really, the only thing that will make me jump for joy is to be able to change the locks because she’s done gone and gotten her own life. Not that she carries her keys anyway, but you know what I mean. 
I know we all have our crosses to bear, but Jesus, why make someone carry it for you while you’re perennially perched on top of it?
