This mother’s day hasn’t been that hard for me….and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Usually this weekend hits me like a steel toe to the gut. I’m hurled over crying for something that I can’t really explain. It’s more than mourning over a dead parent. It’s more complicated and even darker than death itself. It’s this bleak feeling that I’m cursed and destined for endless pain. Forever feeling different and inadequate because I never got to experience this whole unconditional mother’s love thing that apparently is god given to everyone but me.Read More
My mother, Cathy Campbell, at the age of 30 watched her parents get brutally stabbed to death all within the confines of a station wagon. Cathy was told to keep driving, as two men took hostage. They robbed them while stabbing her parents multiple times before exiting the murder car. (67 stab wounds to be exact for her mother. Mostly on her face. 47 lacerations counted on her father). Cathy was uninjured, but her face, hair and body were covered with her parents splattered blood. She even thought that she herself had gotten cut too, but recognized the blood wasn’t hers. She drove straight to the emergency room where her parents were both pronounced dead. A couple months after this, she got pregnant with me. God, I’ve got great timing.Read More
If I could talk to 16 year old Dixie, I would tell her this:
Yes, it sucks right now. No doubt about it. This pain you’re experiencing is some top level shiiiiiit. If the heartache were a tequila, it would be on the top shelf. I would say hold off on the tequila, but I know you won’t. The death of your grandmother is changing you more than ever. More than a drivers license. More than college. Even more than losing your virginity. This feeling. This loss. This pain. This is transforming you into a wise soul beyond your teenage years. You might not realize it, but you’re also crying for your mother. I know you don’t remember her, but you do remember this longing of home. Belonging to something bigger. And this is something you’ll be chasing for years to come.Read More
Last week I spent 6 days and 5 nights with women who had lost their mother’s at an early age. It was called a Motherless Daughthers retreat. I signed up last September. Honestly, it was a whim decision. I was sad and on the internet one afternoon, (always a dangerous combination), and there was money in my bank account. The retreat seemed like it was going to be in a beautiful location in Santa Cruz. You know, it’s always nice to leave Los Angeles from time to time. Plus, the program was led by these two amazing writers whom I’ve always wanted to meet. So I said fuck it and just forked over some dough and then kinda forgotten about it as time passed. Recently, I’ve been in less pain about my mother. (She was murdered when I was one). I mean, there’s always going to be an underlining sadness in me, but I’ve embraced it. This blog has helped. Being in therapy has helped. So I wasn’t really jonesing for a getaway. But alas, the time came, and I had to show up to this thing.Read More
A thing or two about me is that, I love anything with tomatoes and…I grew up without a mother. Even though I know you’re really intrigued about my love for tomatoes. (All tomatoes? Like in everything? Tomatoes as a topping on a pizza? But it already has marina which is tomato based. What about ketchup? Do you count that? It’s mainly just sugar). But this piece isn’t about tomatoes. (And yes, I group ketchup in as my love for tomatoes obviously). < Sigh > It’s about the latter.