Unbecoming Her

I’ve been chasing a relationship with my mom that I’ve only ever imagined.

Not one I’ve actually experienced.

And I’m starting to understand—
she may not be capable of giving me that.

That’s the part I’m learning to sit with.

Yesterday was my birthday.

She didn’t mention it in the days leading up to it.
No plans. No “what do you want to do?”
Nothing like that.

She called the day before—
but it was to ask to pick up my son.

On my actual birthday, she texted me.
I said thank you.

She tried calling later. I missed it.
When I called back, she sang to me… and then spent the next hour venting.

At some point she said,
“Enough about me, what’s going on with you?”

But I didn’t really have anything to say.

Not because nothing’s going on…

But because I don’t feel met there.

About an hour later, she sent me $500.

“Happy birthday.”

And I am grateful.

I am.

But if I’m being honest…

I don’t want the money.

I don’t want the bags.
The makeup.
The “things.”

I want breakfast together.
A random lunch.
A pedicure.
Time.

Something simple.

Something real.

And I’m realizing—
I’ve been trying to get that from someone who doesn’t show love that way.

Maybe doesn’t even know how.

And I don’t think that makes her a bad person.

But it does mean…

I have to stop expecting something she’s never consistently shown me she can give.

And that part?

That part hurts.