yes. i like to spell it out. it is occurring to me that perhaps the reason i am so bloody stuck is that i am not quite in touch with my feelings! ...giant roll of the eyes here. but now i wonder if there may be some truth in that.
i did not cry until i was 28.
My mother hated my father after he left. She never had anything good to say about him and she became extremely fearful and worried about money. She would sit at the dining room table balancing her checkbook, counting her pennies, checking all the receipts to see who had overcharged her what for something. I grew up feeling very powerless and very poor. She asked the priest one day, if he thought she was living her hell right here on earth. He murmured something in agreement. I guess she forgot she had a little traveling companion right alongside her. When I was young, I swore I would never be anything like her. But as I grew older I saw that all the neuroses that had made up her, had been collected and sown on my heart. I seemed to have inhaled them by breathing in her presence all those years. Now, when I am faced with something scary, like my physical well-being, I am not sure what or who to grab onto and hold.
No comments:
Post a Comment