Yep. Me too.
It must be summer, because I've had time to do some reading and watching of things. I had to ease into it, with a series of books about vampirous and oversexed fairies. Not great literature or anything, but man, this got me through some serious jetlag and intercontinental flights, and eased me out of the crazy-ass stress that was that nutso spring semester.
Also, I'm finishing the 9th season of Grey's Anatomy. I think I started the series last fall. There are 25 or so episodes a season, so yes, you should be very impressed with my commitment and follow-through. Also, if you need me to perform a thoracotomy or cut your LVAD wire, I'm able to do that. Probably faster and cheaper than your HMO.
|Also, fun! This guy is pretty much our generation's Brando, hidden away in a little old medical drama. Swearsville.|
Good thing there weren't any naughty fairies twittering about to take advantage of us in our weakened state.
Anyway, I haven't done much work in the last ten days or so, which because of summer's loooong days has felt like an eternity, thank God. But I have been reading some "serious," non-fairy-type things, and today I had this epiphany.
If you know me, you know I've been struggling with my relationship with my mom. We just can't seem to find common ground and the distance between us grows greater, as they say. I have felt mad at her for not fighting harder to overcome her physical limitations, but really for not fighting harder to be in my life. I just couldn't seem to get over it. I felt like she gave up on me, too.
But then, some little trickles of information come in. Addie goes to a day camp a few weeks ago where her counselor makes sun tea for the kids, and I'm reminded of my mom, working on projects in the backyard, a huge jar of sun tea at her side. She was so capable. Very focused. I think she was sad a lot, but I also had some memories of her laughing. Then the BeeGees came on the radio, and I remembered her dancing in our basement to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. And I remembered her sneaking me out from under the watchful eye of my stepdad to see Flashdance, and I watched her go running everyday of my adolescence, and I know that she was someone who loved to move and be mobile and who experienced freedom through her body. And really can't anymore.
God, these little doses of compassion are a pain in the ass.
Then, today, I'm reading this:
One of the gems in this little book is that sometimes we experience painful losses in order to gain our freedom.
Sometimes we experience painful losses in order to gain our freedom.
It's been painful to have been let go of so completely by my mom, but, click, click, flip the lens, and maybe also she has allowed me to be fiercely independent and to make my own totally full, rich life without deep encumbrances to my past. Whether she intended to or not, my being untethered from biography has allowed me to fully write my own story.
Not that I'm free of my mom, or want to be. Obviously, lots of choices and feelings stem from that relationship. But her model of motherhood, my grandmother, was much more smothering and controlling, and my mom definitely didn't do that to me. I don't think she even tried. I think she probably saw the wisdom of letting me go.
I don't know. We go in the way that feels the best. Maybe I'm trying to grow toward the sun here, one tiny little tendril at a time.
Anyway, do yourself a favor, take 45 minutes, and watch this video by my guru. It's worth it.