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Good day/difficult day
Jun. 17th, 2008 12:16 amI went out walking today - that was good. Strolled up to Opi's house to borrow a book (doncha hate recalling bits of a story and then realising that you don't own that book yet the need to re-read it grows stronger as the day passes? This would be why our house is insulated with tomes) and extended the walk to visit Shawn at work - all good, yessiree.
Then went to see "Narnia, Prince Caspian" with my husband, a treat we'd been meaning to get to for a while. I like going to the movies with him.
Came home to relax and read email and after reading and finding myself growing more and more uncomfortable, I played a silly video game to try to shake the mood. And in the way of things, realised, once I wasn't conciously thinking about it, just what had caused my discomfort...
My mom was insane. I think I've mentioned that before. One of the aspects of her insanity was a very convoluted, strange, very self-focussed thinking mechanism that manifested as an agressive "everyone else is wrong" attitude about any of her pronouncements - even when they directly contradicted something else she'd just said. It was a requirement that we all agree with her or she'd twist words and rant until she wore us down, until we were so weary and confused that we'd not know the time of day without asking her first. By age thirteen, I'd given myself an ulcer trying to cater to her and keep her calm while at the same time trying to figure out what was 'the most common version of true' so as to best interact with her. Ultimately, I had to conceed that I lacked the training to reason with her or help her fit in to everyone else's world - her thinking processes were so un-normal that even when she seemed well, it was more a case of 'mimicing normal' than true healing. And the bullying was gut-wrenching for me to experience, as a victim and as a witness when she did it to others.
Echoes of that same stomach-twisting feeling of futility and pain has been haunting me lately. Thanks to my subconcious screaming at me in a moment of mind-silence, I have now been able to identify why and from where the stimulii comes.
My answer to life with my mother was to leave home and thus remove myself from her influence. Sadly, moving isn't an answer for me in this situation and neither is choosing to ignore the source of my discomfort or quitting the arena that it thrives in - both responses would be irresponsible to others I care about. I shall have to work on some coping skills that can be clear and compassionate to the stimuli without rewarding it by giving the appearance of capitulation to its bullying.
Then went to see "Narnia, Prince Caspian" with my husband, a treat we'd been meaning to get to for a while. I like going to the movies with him.
Came home to relax and read email and after reading and finding myself growing more and more uncomfortable, I played a silly video game to try to shake the mood. And in the way of things, realised, once I wasn't conciously thinking about it, just what had caused my discomfort...
My mom was insane. I think I've mentioned that before. One of the aspects of her insanity was a very convoluted, strange, very self-focussed thinking mechanism that manifested as an agressive "everyone else is wrong" attitude about any of her pronouncements - even when they directly contradicted something else she'd just said. It was a requirement that we all agree with her or she'd twist words and rant until she wore us down, until we were so weary and confused that we'd not know the time of day without asking her first. By age thirteen, I'd given myself an ulcer trying to cater to her and keep her calm while at the same time trying to figure out what was 'the most common version of true' so as to best interact with her. Ultimately, I had to conceed that I lacked the training to reason with her or help her fit in to everyone else's world - her thinking processes were so un-normal that even when she seemed well, it was more a case of 'mimicing normal' than true healing. And the bullying was gut-wrenching for me to experience, as a victim and as a witness when she did it to others.
Echoes of that same stomach-twisting feeling of futility and pain has been haunting me lately. Thanks to my subconcious screaming at me in a moment of mind-silence, I have now been able to identify why and from where the stimulii comes.
My answer to life with my mother was to leave home and thus remove myself from her influence. Sadly, moving isn't an answer for me in this situation and neither is choosing to ignore the source of my discomfort or quitting the arena that it thrives in - both responses would be irresponsible to others I care about. I shall have to work on some coping skills that can be clear and compassionate to the stimuli without rewarding it by giving the appearance of capitulation to its bullying.
