I’m still lost but at least I can see where I’m going. – Unknown
I am a junkie.
I need yet another support group. Or maybe a patch. Maybe some sort of deterrent. Something that shocks my fingers or sticks me in the eyeballs when I click and view there.
I am talking about my daughters twitter and website.
While my checking on her has gone down considerably, and my commenting has ceased all together, I am struggling with completely writing her off. I am struggling with not wondering what she is up to since NY fashion week since she is a fashion blogger, fashion press and more. I couldn’t help but think of her when I learned of the death of Alexander McQueen or when I saw a fabulous Rodarte slide show. It just happens. She just pops into my head.
POP! POP! POP!
I am struggling with training myself NOT to think of my daughter.
How asinine is that?
The first step in solving a problem is admitting you have it, right?
Well, I must admit, in my down times at the office (okay, maybe not so down times) I click over to her twitter feed. (It doesn’t have stats right? Or does it? Have I missed an app that tells you who is stalking your twitter stream?) and I catch up on her news (it’s all public, I am not following her) and I scamper away like the stalking mother that I am. My belief, however misguided, is that the key is to not make myself known. That it makes her more comfortable if she doesn’t have to acknowledge that I exist and as long as I don’t comment, I am good, right? As long as I don’t leave birthmom droppings on her blog (i.e., “Hey, that was a great post. I love your writing style”) I am not in violation. Right? Right?
Meh. Yeah. You don’t have to agree with me. I know what you would say.
It is just so gosh danged impossible NOT to think of my child. Not to worry about her. Not to want to read her fabulous rants on her blog and see her latest outfit. She is neat. She is interesting. She is someone I would have as a friend if she wasnt my daughter. She reminds me of myself, of Claud, of so many other amazing articulate young women I know.
But yes, yes, I get it. I am violating a boundary by stalking her work online. The desired state is to cut the cords completely. I get that. I am not the type to utilize those services that hide your IP. I will not go that low. I will not use a “friend” to get me my stuff.
I will cut myself off. I will. I must.
It’s just taking me longer to implement.
I relapse occasionally.
I realize this post sounds like I am a making a joke of it. I am not. Well, maybe I am. Maybe if I dont laugh I am afraid I will cry.
But I swear I am working on it.
I just can’t go cold turkey.