I’ve had two fairly large breakthroughs in the past week: the first was neurological, and I wrote about it.
The second was psychological: this Sunday, instead of sitting around feeling like shit but pretending I don’t and being snippy with my family and apologizing over and over which is apparently my Mother’s Day tradition, I broke the pattern.
I had breakfast with friends, and as I was headed home I realized that sadness was descending rapidly.
So I did something I’ve never done before: I drove to my partner’s apartment and I asked her to hold me while I cried over not having had a mother.
For years I would say it didn’t matter that I hadn’t had a decent mom; I was fine. My dad had been great, after all! Or: I’m too tough to have needed a mom, or: eh. Whatever. :shrug:
And following my own advice to feel the fuck out of my feelings made the rest of Mother’s Day much better: I laughed and laughed with my boys in front of a movie, we danced, I was delighted with the plant they bought me. I still felt sad, but since I’d felt and expressed it, it wasn’t controlling all of my reactions all day.
I felt great! I was so proud of myself!
Aaaaaaand now comes the Self Punishment.
I briefly felt good about myself, so I have to sabotage my work by fucking around on Twitter all day in the office and just not doing the freelance I contracted to do when I get home. That way, I can still feel like a fuckup who screws everything up!
I briefly felt good about myself, so I have to fall asleep every night after that (hours and hours past my bedtime) with “I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself” ringing in my ears, and I wake up to the same mantra. And then I run to the bathroom and take a horrifying shit.
A few times, I’ve been able to ask the part of me repeating this: “Really? You do? Why?” In a sot of ‘explain yourself’ kind of way, and she’s backed down and hidden behind my hypocanthus.
But she’s back again a few hours later: I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself.
I wish she’d shut the fuck up. But even if she won’t, I don’t care what she says. I refuse to stop growing and changing and being proud of myself. She can’t make me.