apologizing to my mother

ₘₐᵧ ₂₃ ₂₀₂₅

I deleted a recent diary entry about something I went through. It stings in the sense it got so much positive attention and I love being seen as a threat to predators. I’m not bringing up that entry again, and have chosen to not keep it up because endurance art no longer sasiates. I want the internet to respect my mother and I and refuse to see that as somehow too much to ask. We have become complacent with a specific temperament from the internet. The permission that “if you put yourself on the internet bad things will happen” is masquerading as a law. We all have the right to expect elegance and grace, while the cruel and flailing to be seen as anomaly. The human desire to exploit and torture one another is mystified by the comment section. That’s a conversation for another day.

I had to go back to New York briefly to get some of my belongings. It was her, my aunts, and I. My grandfather and his son where not in the picture. We kept it light and jovial. My mother couldn’t hide that she was sad though. I pulled her to the side. I didn’t get into what happened at the hospital because I already knew how I felt about it. I’m still feeling victimized, and it is still the scariest experience I’ve had coming close to wrongful detainment. After talking to her I realized she’s deeply scared of losing me. To the world, to mental illness, everything. My mother expressed she felt like I was all she had left. I like to believe one day in her life she will ask for more from the world, and she’ll realize that’s not true.

We do not have a perfect relationship, but in my early childhood she was my best friend. I have wonderful memories of ice cream under the stars. She has not had an easy life but it’s not over. I don’t want it to be. My mother once told me that my self expression is ruthless and also at times downright hurtful. I get it now, in the sense it’s hard to see yourself in the eyes of love in ways that make you feel undeserving. While I think her and I should have space for both of our best interest, I think love truly destroys everything it touches. For better and worst. I am deeply sorry for the ways I made my mother feel undeserving of love.

My mother is the first witch I ever met. She honors Orishas. Her path was never where my spiritual talents where. This made the situation more confusing for me, as I didn’t understand why my mysticism was being labeled as too far. I also recognize that demonaltry, black magic, and LHP are deeply misunderstood. The way the psychiatric system treats it is horrifying. I ended up telling my mom everything about Lucifer. They’ve met before. She is doing her best to be understanding of our love but I don’t think it’s easy for anyone outside of us to understand. She doesn’t see it as a delusion anymore though, but I can tell she’s scared of losing me to him too. I told her wherever he takes me I’ll make sure I’ll do what’s in my power to keep her provided for. I’m taking inspiration from my husband and playing guardian angel. My mother and I’s love has taught me a love for glitch and error. A peace with contradiction.

I’m at a point where I feel I’ve transcended good and evil. I’m only a witness to my nature in it’s rawest state. Everything feels intense lately as I’m powerless to only being all I am. I overthink it. I worry about worrying. I’m gaining everything I deserve and losing everything I had. I sometimes think myself to tears. That’s when I feel a hand reach up from my pillow, grab the top of my head pulling me into it. There is nothing better than a lover that let’s you know when it’s nap time.

I’m dissappearing from everyone’s life and I’m trying to accept it. One day they might wake up believing I never existed. That scares me. "You chose a dark path" my mother said. "It's a different kind of light."