8:36 p.m. - 11/10/03
luck be a lady.>>
I raised a fork to Rogers today, in honor of my discharge anniversary. I was a little lonely, preparing my pasta, sitting down to eat it, and when I thought of them it seemed appropriate to toast somehow. I'm not as caught up in it this year (as of now). My relationship with them is in a pretty good place; I need to call, but my last call went memorably well, and I feel good about the connection. It's allowed me to focus on the other event of this week, one that I've overlooked the past few years: my mom's birthday, which is tomorrow. Talk about a veteran...the way that woman lives through war and peace...
I feel proud of her right now. I feel connected to her; I feel like I want to introduce her to everyone I know, and they'll all see her glowing in this light and understand that I have the best mom. I don't always feel that way, obviously, but it means a lot to me that she's invested so much into getting better, into taking care of herself, and us. And our relationship has gotten so much better as we both work... I feel for her, also; I'm aware that it's her first birthday in almost thirty years without my dad...and it's her first birthday without her mom. I was making her present tonight, and the power of that reality just welled within me. Tomorrow I celebrate my mom who no longer has her mom (in that same way.) Tomorrow I celebrate the birth of my mom, who gave birth to me. My place in this, as her daughter, as my Grandma's granddaughter...it suddenly seems so rich and important. I'm glad of that. If I can convince myself I'm important, perhaps I really will follow through on the desire to base my life around myself.
Not much else of note today. I watched a favorite Halloween movie, despite missing the holiday mark; I couldn't let the year pass without at least one viewing. And I had my Monday session with the doc. It's so odd; sometimes, I feel like I have a hundred different charts - old dusty volumes, and newer ones with embossed covers - and they're all sort of hanging, perhaps on a shelf, perhaps floating. I feel like he (or I, or we) pick(s) a volume from the multitude and we add some information, take some notes, draw a few conclusions, reshelve the subject. Today felt especially that way because we chose a topic so much less heartwrenching than certain others. No. We chose a topic that we discussed with more distance and objective strategizing than we often do. The subject, my relationship with my dad, mainly, and my parents' divorce, is easily heartwrenching. But today we just stood back of it; I spoke honestly but without all of my normal passion. The weekend went quickly, and I felt like I'd appeared in his office again hardly having left it. I didn't want to sob so hard again so soon. Odd, after the past few weeks of resisting action, but I threw myself into the intellectual work of it as a reprieve from the emotion. I take pride in my emotive ability; I honestly do, but learning to deal with my feelings has hardly meant mastering or controlling them. I don't feel less passionately - quite the opposite. I don't think there's anything wrong in giving myself a break now and then.
It's still odd to me to treat myself well. To say what I did two sentences ago. To make allowances for myself, to respect myself, to treat myself with all the love and understanding I would a dear friend. It's odd to me when the doctor cautions against taking up a certain responsibility, blame, or damaging perspective, and I realize - as easily as I could have gone into that, or would have not long ago - I honestly didn't this time. More and more often, I already know what isn't my fault. More and more often, I don't need him to tell me.
And I had a wild thought today, an entirely radical vision. I'd asked him to explain to me, silly as the question sounded, the difference between my relationship with my dad and my mom's. Perhaps it's because I've never been in a "relationship-relationoship" - but I can't understand why I continue to develop a relationship with my dad, to grow and change, to work with him, to hope things will grow better as I do the work, and so forth ... while my mom must walk away, must face the fact that he won't do the work, and end the relationship, as it was, there. The doctor said something entirely sensible about how my life is not built in partnership with my dad. I'm not trying to create an equal relationship with him, where we both contribute to a household, to a family, to responsibilities both parental and otherwise. I was sidetracked a little by something he's said before, about how parent-child relationships aren't supposed to be equal partnerships, that I'm not supposed to be my father's peer and certainly not his caretaker...but I can't imagine feeling I could lean on him, consistently, in all the ways I would a parent. So... we talked about the possibility that I will have to distance myself some as well, and how that was a last resort. He told me that if I ever felt pushed in one direction or another, I needed to tell him because it was ultimately my decision what I wanted with my dad. But as I thought about everything he'd said my parents didn't have...the equal partnership, the peer to lean on...it occurred to me that maybe someday I'll have that. Maybe someday I won't need a therapeutic relationship because I'll have grown enough to sustain myself, and my support system will be in a relationship that's more balanced but equally fulfilling and protective. I remembered his comment when we first discussed sexuality ... about the person at the end of your day who looks into your eyes and asks, sincerely, to hear every detail of your day. I don't know...but maybe, maybe I'm starting to dare and want that love.
chord
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