Mother’s Day – Good Riddance Dree in response

Mother’s Day – Good Riddance

Image

Dree in response to your Blog on Mother’s Day
http://dreespeaksfreely.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/who-are-you-to-yourself/#respond

Many  thanks for your Mother’s Day blog! It’s comforting to know there are people out there who share my feeling about honoring mothers  – automatically. When my sister posted a picture of our mother crocheting hats as her Facebook picture and wrote an absolutely lovely few lines in praise of our mother aka her making Strawberry short cake etc, and crocheting hats. Leaving out, I might add, our mother’s real worth as a stalwart and persevering person, She was brilliant , classy, and charming…. I felt an inconsolable sadness mixed with a bit of rage.

Mother’s Day is the most depressing day of the year. Now that it’s over, I can recover my equilibrium as a person who reconciles the myth of my mother as a lovable person to my sister verses my reality that our mother thought I was unlovable. It saddens me to realize that my sister’s mother was different from my mother, even though one in the same person. It’s of great importance to me to be on the same page as my sister. I love her so much! Our only separation from each other is that unlike me, my sister played her part well in our mother’s play starring our mother the Queen. For her participation, my sister was curried and favored by our mother. My dear sister fashioned her life in the exemplary service of both our mother and father (who suffered from Parkinson’s disease) and then later in the service of her own daughter  – and in this case to good ends, because her daughter is so far happy and accomplished.

Our mother’s needs were not met by me, even though I tried valiantly to be the person for the part. I involved myself since the age of six in concern for our other sister who was profoundly handicapped by Cerebral Palsy and perhaps a genetic syndrome for which my mother blamed me, albeit indirectly. When it came time for a professional family portrait just before our sister’s death, I was not included even though I was a teenager and still living at home.

I had my own children, three of them. Our mother didn’t connect to them as her progeny. She was a grandmother only to my sister’s child. When our mother died the family house went to my sister as recognition of a mutual devotion..

But ironically,  I was more our mother’s child. I also became narcissistic. I treated my own children the way our mother treated me in that I used them to play minor characters in my play starring me as the brilliant unlovable genius.

I have been in therapy, for my children’s sake and for mine, for many years to learn to function from my authentic self. It’s been difficult to find out where and who that is. And still at 77 years of age, Mother’s Day gets to me. My goal is to leave my progeny a legacy of my love and not my persona. May they not celebrate Mother’s Day but celebrate daily the genuine compassion in themselves and others.

I’m Walking Here Part 2

mail from my sister re: I’m walking here blog.” She says,
“Hilarious!  Glad to see you back in print ..  I’m your#1 fan 🙂  xox”

Aw thank you so much my beautiful sister!! You are my #1 and only fan. Seems I am writing just for you, poor thing. I do so like to complain, as you know. So thanks for your listening skills. If I have a beef  in my craw, then that’s inspiration to get it out to the ether. Dismantle those Life in Outer Space probes. There’s only one sentient life form out there. That’s my sister!!

Back on Terra Ferma, one of my acquaintances has a blog on WordPress, a confessional so to speak, to the point of Oh my! titillating. It’s about her emerging as a “poly-amorous” person which she likens to being gay, in that you “come out” as a “poly.” My definition of “poly” is someone who fu… around, however that is very crude and insensitive of me and so unevolved.

The evolved definition is more like someone who loves more than one person as a romantic interest and they both know what the other one is doing, such as in an “open marriage” in which both partners fu… around, er excuse me can amour more than one person, sort of like a rainbow rather than one color, which is inevitably grey. So that’s her blog. I’ll send you the URL. Actually it’s very good writing. It doesn’t indulge much in unnecessary words to get to the “good” parts which in itself makes it exciting because you know you’ll be through reading the damn thing sooner rather than later.

So, I added my own blog on WordPress, not an easy thing to do if you don’t pay for the “upgrade.” The fonts are aggressively ugly and you can’t change them unless you pay $99 a year. Word Press is set up as a blog community of sorts in that you can suffer er trade blog reading and make mutual comments that say, “I feel your pain.”

I get a “feed” in my email from a blogger called something like, “thoughts from a Mother.” Which is often about her father who is dying and how she mows his lawn and leaves daughter to dad sad but loving and appreciative notes on his pillow which he reads and then cries.She cries. It’s sad. However, he is not dying today exactly. He is old which seem to be the same thing, but here I go again being insensitive. I like the Mum in her blog and think it’s a miracle to be able to be completely devoid of snarky artifice in life, so I read on, marveling, sort of like visiting a lion preserve on the Sahel. Those lions are oblivious to the child bully problem and issues of co-dependency. Artless lions are sort of the opposite side of the coin from artifice free people.

Mother and it seems everyone else who writes a blog uses the contemporary way of writing or saying one’s innermost thoughts. It’s an odd discipline – quite odd actually – because it’s completely devoid of anger, antagonism, or irony. I don’t know how they do that. I think there is a book, perhaps by someone translated from the original Urdu. I can hear a raga in my head.

It seems that anger is no longer an emotion but sort of a mutation of a recently sanctioned emotion – as evidenced by fear biting dogs, I imagine, but I’m still confused. The polar opposites of love vs hate come to mind and I can’t think of a mutation for either of those except you are not supposed to hate these days because it causes wars.

I have felt fear and I have felt what I thought was anger and these are definitely not the same. Although I’ll admit fear may bring on a defensive response that looks like anger to the outside observer. To the inside observer pure anger is more fun. It’s well, artless. To me it’s a creative force, but then I harken from the old days when anger was still a useful emotion.

I have no comments posted on either blob except yours. (except that one by someone who doesn’t like my “fat slob” blog. Although I have 970 hits since I started my other blob (Weebly)  I have no idea who these people are. I assume they are people. According to the “stats” most don’t go past the “home” page. Maybe they were looking for a bathroom. I think it’s my Twitter postings that got me my “hits” I have no idea how that works. I have so much to find out. What about your mini web class, did it go into “hits” and such? Maybe you can tell me.

Love always

Your Snarly Sister Paw