Writing about how I feel is sort of difficult. Especially writing about how I feel currently. Because the present tense, for me, is so confusing.
I have had a very rough time attempting come to terms with the way my father has treated my mother and me and my immediate family throughout my lifetime. It has been equally, if not more, taxing for me to grow accustomed to my mother's illness and the future progress/regress of that illness.
Less tragic circumstances have also left me wobbly; my happy marriage and my lovely child.
For reasons probably best understood while listening to Joy Division (or Interpol, depending how old you might be) I seem to navigate the bad "better" than the best... Probably because I have led myself to believe things cannot get any worse in those climates and that I am, at least, capable of preparing for the worst because it is finite.
But the good makes me uneasy... because, Why? Why am I so lucky? And will I wake up one day to find it ruined? Am I ruining it and not knowing?
Will someone one day find me and finally explain that yes, I was correct all along to question my good fortune and would I please return the keys to the lost and found where they belong.
If I was not me I would look at me and be envious and awe struck. But instead, I am me and I am worried that it cannot last... And that my family history will repeat itself.... because that is all that I know. My life today is an unknowable animal to me... and maybe that is why it is taking me so long to grow accustomed to the fact that it does not need to be tamed but rather encouraged to linger and become comfortable.
Sigh.
I have had a very rough time attempting come to terms with the way my father has treated my mother and me and my immediate family throughout my lifetime. It has been equally, if not more, taxing for me to grow accustomed to my mother's illness and the future progress/regress of that illness.
Less tragic circumstances have also left me wobbly; my happy marriage and my lovely child.
For reasons probably best understood while listening to Joy Division (or Interpol, depending how old you might be) I seem to navigate the bad "better" than the best... Probably because I have led myself to believe things cannot get any worse in those climates and that I am, at least, capable of preparing for the worst because it is finite.
But the good makes me uneasy... because, Why? Why am I so lucky? And will I wake up one day to find it ruined? Am I ruining it and not knowing?
Will someone one day find me and finally explain that yes, I was correct all along to question my good fortune and would I please return the keys to the lost and found where they belong.
If I was not me I would look at me and be envious and awe struck. But instead, I am me and I am worried that it cannot last... And that my family history will repeat itself.... because that is all that I know. My life today is an unknowable animal to me... and maybe that is why it is taking me so long to grow accustomed to the fact that it does not need to be tamed but rather encouraged to linger and become comfortable.
Sigh.
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