to {not} be misunderstood

i guess it just boils down to the simple desire to be understood. accepted maybe even, as a cherry on the cake, but understood mainly.

earlier on today i was thinking about what made my relationships feel so strained, so hard. i have a few friends, no love-life, and i speak to my mother at least once a week.

her words of advice to me, a while ago, were that i should just be {more} pleasant to others, if i wanted to either hang on to or forge new friendships. i had mentioned the slow deterioration of the ones i've been having, my longest running friend having 'deserted' me a few months before. my dad was still around at this time, and he kept quiet, as he always did whenever my mum got into one of her advice-modes with me. i had not sought her advice, just wanted to mention to her the state of play in my life. i keep underestimating her ideas of me, reckoning apparently {as she's been on the receiving end of} that i'm a tough cow who doesn't go round pleasing people. like she does. she has friends...

in the aftermath of my dad's passing i saw how many people were concerned about her. i personally received a few cards, endless reactions to something i posted on Facebook, but nothing resembling the outpouring of condolences that my mother got - it was very clear she's a much liked person in the village where she lives, and her wider circle of friends.

only one or two of those people though she would call her friends. people she doesn't moan about after their enquiries into her well being. and this confuses me...

does she really want all those people in her life???

and does she really get that i'm not entirely bothered about the state of my friendships? or {apparent} lack thereof...? that i'm not looking for a love-life, not looking to replace what i had before, quite happy with my own company and that of the kids {whenever they're around...} and the cats and the odd acquaintance... that i'm delighted with my books, my laptop, my letters and drawings... that i wished she didn't think i was depressed, or unhappy... that i wished she would trust me... understand me... accept me... the way i am...

of course: finding someone to share my life with, to a certain level, would be great. someone who gets me, who likes me, who doesn't judge or derides my predilections, who welcomes me in their lives with open arms... it will happen, i'm sure of that.

but being a sensitive introvert has enough challenges in modern life as it is. having a mother who thinks i'm not nice enough to people and is convinced i'm heading for a depression is hardly helpful...

so my endeavours continue... maybe there will come a time when she gets me... maybe the day will come when it doesn't bother me anymore that she doesn't... for now i'm just grateful that she's around, still healthy and that we get on still...