maybe that was why i read her blog tonight. i still believe she has no idea that i know the address of it. some of the things she writes are so... out there. deep into her alternate realities and paranoid speeches. things about me, my brother, my family... things that i really don't want to read.
but in between all the paranoia and the craziness, she writes about her everyday life. taking buses to university libraries. visiting church groups. playing chess with strangers in the park.
and it makes me wonder if i know her at all. if i ever really knew her. who is "she"? it's been so long since i've had a relationship with her that i've begun to think of her as a stranger in my life. a personality rather than a person. i still have no answer to the question, do i love her? i can't say for sure that i do - because the mother i love is someone who no longer exists. how can you love a stranger that has no part in your life, other than causing pain and grief?
it goes both ways. i am sure that i am hardly the daughter she remembers. but given her writing, she still believes her daughter was murdered and covered up by her family. sigh.
families with mental illness are messy, complicated, and damaging. how do we ever recover? can we ever recover? and will i ever, ever, have some kind of closure or acceptance?
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