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{{small cringe}} Actually... pegasus

Posted by Racer on February 16, 2004, at 15:05:42

In reply to Re: your junk, my junk, let's throw it all out Racer, posted by pegasus on February 16, 2004, at 13:39:41

Right after I wrote that, I called my mother and told her basically what I said here. That I knew she felt guilty, and as though she had failed me, but that any scars I have now are mine, and my memories of her are overwhelmingly the magical ones. How much she indulged me in so many more meaningful ways than buying toys, etc. How many truly wondrous things I remember, from early childhood to my late teens, through all the really rotten years.

Her response was typical for her: "Well, that's very nice, but it doesn't do a thing to change how I feel." So, that's my beloved Mom.

When I was a kid, we didn't have much in the way of money. My parents divorced early in my life, my father was what's now known as a deadbeat dad, and my mother worked in a school library -- meaning nine months of work each year -- so money was incredibly tight to begin with. Several months before I started Kindergarten, I was hit by a car. Major injuries, major surgery, major hospital stay, months in a cast that covered my entire lower body, all followed by physical therapy that I still remember as one of the most awful and painful periods of my life. Of course, kids don't have the same kind of existencial angst that adults do, so it all seemed like just one of the things that happened in the world to me. Must have been something else to my mother, of course. We were incredibly fortunate, too. Our landlord's wife, on hearing about my accident, insisted that her husband cut out rent in half until my mother could work again. That's part of my mother's magic, too. People do react to her that way, and she's never been able to see that.

Anyway, all my toys were magical, too. My mother made them. She made the big stuffed dolls, the stick horse, the dollhouse with all the doll furniture, the doll clothes, the jigsaw puzzles, everything. She made me dresses fit for a princess, she let me choose the colors to paint my bedroom, she made me a bookcase with my name carved in freestanding letters on the top of it. She created a magical world for me to live in. The tragedy, again, is that she doesn't feel that, and won't no matter what I say.

Anyway, I'm sorry your mother said something so thoughtless to you about your sister. My aunt said something similar, once, to me, although not directed at me. She told me that she comes to visit all of us in this area primarily to see my mother. She said that, while she loves us all -- including her son, daughter-in-law, and grandsons -- she loves my mother best. At least she didn't say it to her son, right?

So, thank you for discussing this. It does feel healing, or at least relieving. Tomorrow I finally meet my new therapist, so it may be a while before all this comes up in session...


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