Realizing that the therappy is holding. I poke at the space, and it's filled in, if only as a semi-solid. Gelling.
Made a joke at work about how I knew the BLS class was on the 21st, because it was my "dead dad's birthday." The three people around the front desk, J, B and G, laughed, it is funny. Well, it is; funny, and dead dad's birthday. B mentioned her father's birthday was the same week. I told her "I'm sure he is a much nicer man." B agreed. J added she knew what I meant. Fathers are difficult for many of us.
Another discussion at lunch with an anesthesiologist, sterile processing tech, and scrub, about how their mothers take care of them, where they go when tired of their kids, need a break and food, or laundry. I stayed silent. Not that my mother wouldn't have cooked for me and fussed over me in her house, but I would never have found that comforting nor pleasant. I preferred my own meager cooking, taking care of my own self, my own privacy and competence. She rarely visited me in my apartments, and only for the shortest possible time. Then, as now, I much preferred hosting, but she was having none of it. Never said why, just evaded and excused.
Even thinking about mother, and brothers, the reactive anxiety is gone. I only want to keep my distance. They endured their realities and lived in their fantasies, of which the real me played no part. Now, I'm just one of their demons. They so wanted me to love them, as long as they didn't have to love me more than the saying of it.
On another site, a comment on a post about family, essentially that people just want to blame their parents and get an apology, such a modern foolishness. No point in my answering there, so I will here. I couldn't imagine an apology from either parent, beyond imagining. I'd have been overjoyed with a simple acknowledgement from my mother.I hoped for a sort of neutral dutiful contact. I did insist on no further emotional assault and disparagement. Since that was way too much for her, I dropped the issue and the possibilty of any kind of relationship. No challenging her view, just taking myself out of the balance.
And my balance improves. I can tell. Learning from the cats.
5 comments:
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there is always hurt in parent-child relationships, it's just a question of degree. i have made peace with my parents and i am so glad of it. we like each other now. in fact, i'm flying out tonight to spend a week hiking with them in nevada.
my husband, on the other hand, has not spoken to his father in 15+ years and sees absolutely no need nor any hope for things improving. he knew when to cut his losses and it was for his own mental health. i understand his decision.
everyone has a different path to walk and gross generalisations don't apply. you did what needed to be done and now you're getting better. good for you. cats can be good teachers.
pc,
Good on you for finding a way to peace. I do try not to be gross in my generalizations. Warms my heart to know most people really did have it better than me. I prefer to think of the world as a place where most people had decent parents and at least get along as adults.
I wonder if the ones who are most adamant that those of us who didn't are just dramatizing, have far worse issues they deny in their deepest heart.
Have you read Philip Larkin's poem "THey f*ck you up your mum and dad" - I don't know how well known he is over where you are. He's an interesting poet.
Jenny,
Oh, yes. At least that poem, if not the poet generally.
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