Going Home is Missing my Mom

Homesickness is one thing, especially if you know who you will go home to.  Since my mother’s death that home feeling died.  I recreated my own home, but now it’s different. I yearn to have my mother’s home for better or worse.everyone retreated and now I must choose where I can return..not and easy task with family scattered in LA, Texas, Ohio, Fla, Chicago, and soon Virginia.

Here’s my problem.  I live in the Netherlands.  My life is undergoing major stressors.  So much is up in the air including my health.  I need a vacation. I need a reprieve from the daily life.  I need to recharge and go back into my mother’s arms.  I dream about this ideal where we’d sit tigether with coffee, me tea. We discuss my kids.  We’d agree to disagree, I hope on many of those issues, but she’d be there.  I could count on her smile, her food, her smells, and the feeling of “oh yeah this is where I am from.”

Losing your mom and leaving your mother country is serious surrender.  I desperately need to be with someone who really knows me. Who can laugh with me and say its going to be alright inthe most feminine motherly way.  I want to be a daughter again.  I want to melt my 36 year old mother/adult self into a small child and cry for mama.  

I thought at 36 I might not need mama, but, oh yes, I do.  Unfortunately, I am asking others nuturing women whom I often just met to care for this wounded grieving child.  People I care for deeply are serving as the projections of my mother simply because of their warm nuturing energy fulfills me.  I am using them. They know it too, but I always find that out too late.  Here I want to heal.  It kills my relationships with women that I want to honor the most.  Not sure how to escape this pattern.  

I am planning an emergency trip to my roots.  Will it feed me?  Not sure.  My brother is there.  He will do his best.  My aunt perhaps…big hope,but even she cannot replace the feelings of missing Beth Mitchell.   She could impart much of the wisdom I needed and similar energy.  That would be like manna ( projected mama sent from heaven!) sent from heaven.  However, I am not sure that my aunt is ready for that.  Will she want me to project my grief and fears on to her?  Will she accept the lava of emotions that I need to release?  Will she give me rest?  Will I return home better off for the experience? I am not sure.  But I do miss her for who she is and our lost time together.

My aunt and I are kindred sprits.  We get each other.  We are slowly building a relationship.  That makes me feel a little more complete.  I didnt lose everything when the Titanic of my mother’s death occurred.

Still I sit in the Netherlands wounded with homesickness. Where do I go to solve this?  Europe and sunshine might lift the mood, but being in America will fill my lungs.  My need to be in my environment is so strong that I could break down.  I want to see the people I love.  I want to hear my own language and the local slang.  I want to see the brands that I love and hate!  I want to see the election nonsnense and then be happy to leave it.  I want to meet new people and understand my country in new ways with my half-dutch eyes.  I want to breathe easy.

I have seemed to trust and managed creating an  almost free trip.  First Cincinnati for a few days. Free housing, car and some food.  Airmiles to LA.  Then with couchsurfing.com free space to stay and possible new friends! Yeah!  Plus ocean, sun, and mountains to chill.  It’s been set up. Need to pull the trigger.  Except, now I am hoping I can go to texas to see my aunt.  Cant force this one.  Dont how I’d get there without canceling LA or her funding me a ticket.  So I surrender this to God here.  

This trip feels more than going home. It feels like a lesson in trusting people who’ve burned you or who could.  So many risks I am taking in my plan.  With my chronic fatigue and fibro, I dont know if meeting my brother or seeing my aunt or my dad in Cincinnati is going to do me any good at all.  But being on American soil will. That alone gives me peace.  America is not dead to me.  After my last visit, I thought, nope dont need it anymore—pure denial.  It is waiting to heal me and others who are open to it.  

No overt messages here.  I am only a homesick American mother who needs a break- who needs to be a daughter in her old space with people who might allow her to feel safe in that role.  I suspect that when I am 80 i will feel the same, but will have learned to cope.

Thanks for reading.  Welcome to comment should it strike you.  

Love to you all,


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