Your Children Are Treating You Like You Treated Us – Mother to Daughter

It’s always nice when you call you parents to ask them a question that was about good times and nostalgia and end up getting the “talk”.  My son went to see my parents today.  I haven’t seen him in a couple of months.  He told my mother that he hates that I live in a “dump” while his father is looking at a $2 million home.  Personally I don’t care and I don’t think my place is a dump.  Small?  Yes, but I remember the fun times I had in my little fort when I was a kid in the crawl space.  No one knew about it for quite some time and I enjoyed going there to sit and listen to music.  My little sister ended up being invited, but she also ratted me out, and when mom found out she asked if I was hiding boys down there.  LOL.  Ya right.  I was 13 years old and really how was I going to sneak them by the most intuitive person I have ever known in my life?

So this little cubby place I live in suits me fine.  It’s a roof over my head, affordable, pet friendly, keeps me busy, nice sunny kitchen, warm cuddly bed and silence.  Silence and away from the world I choose to be away from.  Judgement, hatred, crime, anger.  Here it’s fun, happiness, quiet and I bake, cook and clean for me.  I miss my children, but if they feel I’m an embarrassment to them, then so be it.  They need not come by to see me, visit me.  I’m just their mother.  I’m just the one that was there for their first 13 years trying to teach them the value of life, not money.  The sun is shining, I have a smile on my face and animals that love me no matter what.  I’m happy.  My mental state is getting better and this is what I need right now.  Yes.  I use I alot, and me alot, because for years it was always about them.  Husband, children, friends, family.  Always about them, not me.  So it’s me time now.  I have the right and the choice.  Mental health.  It’s what I need and what I am getting.  Here.  Alone, but not lonely.  Me, myself and I.  I have learned to love myself, not always defend myself, but I know that I am there for me until I die.  Just me.  No one else.  And so, to ME my best friend, I say, who cares what anyone else thinks.  If “we” are happy, that’s all that matters in life.

Maybe I’m living my character “Hampy”‘s life.  You can find the book on  It’s about me.  Look up Hampy.  He’s a cute distorted guy with a hump on his back.  But he left the world to hide away and it made him happy.  So hump and happy made for Hampy.  He’s so much of me.  And to this I end this blog.

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