So, sort of out of the blue, a sort-of family member sent me a photo from my cousin's wedding. Five photos, actually. And in that sort-of-meddling family way, they included a photo of my mother. Who was at the wedding. But we didn't talk to each other, just like we hadn't talked to each other for the previous, oh, maybe five years? I had been horribly unprepared to encounter my mother, but I wanted to be at my cousin's wedding, so I went. And at the last minute I dragged along my husband as moral support. And I barely made it, but I made it. I was also prepared if my mother should choose to talk to me, though she didn't. So I spent the whole night without actually seeing her, since she was seated behind me at the ceremony, and in a dark corner at the reception. I left without seeing her, even though we shared the same room all night.

So the relative sent me this photo, and I see that in the photo, my mother is old. I mean, OLD. I mean, her hair is white. And thin along the part, like an old person's, even though she always had the thickest, most luxurious blond hair. And she is heavy, and wearing a dowdy old person's shirt, and the skin sags heavily on her face, and in short, she looks exactly like all the other OLD people in my life, my DH's parents and their friends, even though my DH is older than me, and his parents had him late in life. She looks older than some of my old relatives. And not joyful, even though her mouth is turned up. And it finally dawned on me that even if my life hasn't yet really begun by any standard I can measure, and even if I don't look much older now than I did 10 years ago, time is still passing for my mother, and will eventually will run out.

Let me try to calculate this ... I think she was born in 46, so that means my mother is ... 61? In August, her birthday? My mother is 61. That's not so old, and yet it's hard to imagine. In my mind, she's still that 30-something tyrant of my childhood, the one who never changes, never gives in, never lets her roots show,   never fails to win a match or the battle, especially against her children.

It's weird ... a lot of kind of bad things at once. Bad customers, the kind that don't read the descriptions (at all), and then get mad. And then a few mistakes I've made, like orders that didn't get placed, somehow, and labels I didn't enter properly in the vendor's site. One vendor who screwed up their page and stopped tracking my sales, while another vendor changed their feed so it wouldn't import, and I spent two hours trying to track down the problem. And then, a C&D letter from a very big company ordering me to cease selling several of my most profitable products, by far. All this sort of at once. Am I being sent a message? On top of this, I can't concentrate on or throw myself into work like I used to. I can't program like I used to. I feel kind of useless, and it's harder to concentrate with that maniacal single-mindedness I used to have.

I mean, I felt COMPELLED to work before in a single-minded way that sometimes kind of scared me and wore me out, but now, I feel like I can't really be effective at all. I feel like half or maybe a third of the person I used to be, work wise.

At the same time, I regret the relationships I have avoided forming all this time. I wish I were better at that.

I just joined this online group for borderlines who want to learn life skills, which focuses very heavily on learning to get more control over our own  minds, which is a doozie. Anyway, I have that car-crash fascination with most of the emails that go through this list because almost every. Single. One. Describes the same tortured process my mind goes through. The ones you could never describe to anyone else. But I don't have to describe it to them, because they understand.

So anyway, I've been having a really tough time with that seeming big selfish patch my husband's been going through. It really took the wind out of me because I'd been moving in some uncomfortable ways (everything's uncomfortable for me, especially normal intimacy) in my efforts to be more of a couple. I had taken some big steps under a leap of faith that we were working toward being a closer team and less of two independent satellites, and then I got slapped in the face with a big bout of "your needs don't matter to me right now." So that just ... floored me. And I've been having a really hard time since. Although slightly easier since tonight when husband announced he was exhibiting dry drunk behavior and would start going back to AA. 

But, with my falling apartness of late, I've been shitty at work. I mean, really bad. I mean, I've been seriously wondered what would happen if I were unable to continue in my line of work, and was forced to see my business wither away. Competition is fierce in my line. My competitors are spending about 5K a month on SEO, which I do not do. I have succeeded by working like a friendless, isolated maniac (which I am) at all hours of the day. But lately, I can't concentrate. At all. And I have little ambition.

Until I got so upset by this last issue with DH that I started staying up all hours. And for the past few days, I have this workday that starts around midnight and ends between 4 and 5 a.m. And that's not a full workday, but it's a huge improvement over where I've been. AND, during these quiet hours, it's like I'm my old self. I have ideas. I have little inspirations. I can carry on correspondence. I can invent little things. I can do business.

Who knows ... I'm keeping an eye peeled on my list for whether this nocturnal coping thing is a borderline trait too.

you know, the Dream Mother, the one I could tell hey, guess what? I just walked down the street and donated $4000 to the local library, and I didn't even feel the pinch, or have to move money around.

The one I could not-say-but-she'd-get-it-instantly, I'm becoming the kind of daughter you'd be proud of.

In real life, of course, my mother and I are Not in Contact, and probably never will be.

In real life, my real mother was never able to muster up much love for me, and her relationship to my relationship to money was to see if she could get some of it.

And yes, that's sad, and yet it's possible to imagine a different kind of mother, who would be proud and gleeful even. Who would say just the right warm kind of thing and a few tears would spring to my eyes as I let it sink into whatever gooey part of my innards that link to the tears. Maybe she'd send a little notecard a few days later, just to back it up.

$4000 to be exact.

I've never done anything like that before.

And I didn't even have to move any money around to do it ... I was able to just suck it out of what was sitting in checking.

The feeling is ... great. They're a small outfit (who have gotten me scads and scads of wonderful books at no cost), and 4K makes a big difference in their operations this year.

... or today, actually, I'm quitting coffee again. It's time to stop the madness! My skin is dry, like fish flakes, and I'm breaking out from the overdose of adrenalin going night and day.

Fun, fun.