Frankenstein's Mother

I had a dream this morning that my mother could walk and communicate again. She was talking about how great she felt - she seemed excited and full of energy. You could tell that she wasn't "normal," for lack of a better word, but I could have actually had a conversation with the dream version of my mother. We could have gone on a short walk together. She could have told me stories of her misadventures and I could have told her abridged versions of mine. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like interacting with my mom as an adult. What would it be like to email each other things, letting each other know, "I'm thinking of you." What would we chat about on skype? If I were sad or feeling lost, what advice would she give me to help me find my way? Would she come visit me in Hamburg and what would she like to see when she got here? She would be there for my wedding and we could drink wine and get tipsy. Maybe we'd even dance together.
Who would my mother be if she hadn't been drifting further away from us for the past fifteen years? Who was she when she was younger? I am pretty sure she was a mischievous girl, but she would never tell me for sure, I think because some part of her feared I would use it as justification to make the same mistakes. Like, she must have assumed I was exactly the wrong person to share those things with. Either that or she was ashamed. I don't know which one is worse.
I caught myself wondering earlier, "When is my therapist going to tell me what to do?" And then I realized that I'm already doing the work. The feelings are the work. And it sucks so fucking much.

I had a session just this morning and this one was particularly emotional. An adult connection with my mother may not be possible, but I do have one with my brother. Missing home feels like nostalgia, missing my mother is like grieving a ship leaving a harbor, but missing my brother is very real. He sent me a text the other day, saying that he hoped I was enjoying my life here, but he missed me. He said we needed to stick together. I have not been able to stop thinking about it, because he doesn't share feelings loosely so, when he does, it carries a lot of weight. Missing where I come from and the people I left behind always comes with guilt. I alone add the guilt as an act of self-flagellation. The messages that I am bad or wrong and that I need to be punished for it are very deep-seated in my body. I don't know if those things go away, but I sure as fuck hope so.
When it comes to childhood dysfunction, or with anything challenging, the only way out is through. There are no shortcuts.