As i do housework, i start thinking of a topic for my blog. Sometimes that is even what i write about. I more often read my Face Book messages, and get some topic like a bee under my bonnet. Those are the days i write drivel. I really can't be angry and focus.
And sometimes I want to use my words to hurt something or someone. That is not why I have this gift. These words have two purposes in my mind. One is to reconcile my past so I can move on, and hopefully the second one is that my words will resonate with someone else who is struggling and help them push through the quagmire. There is alight at the end of the tunnel, and when i am angry all i can see is a huge train roaring down on me.
A shrink once told me that chili incites riot mode in me. Can you imagine? My mom found a way to terrorize me with chili con carne. Yes I am that weird. Any other night it was take it or leave it, but she wasn't making anything else till morning. I could live with it, and usually did. Too much in fact.
But when she was mad at me, she would make chili and insist i eat it. I know it sounds paranoid, but mom was losing her grip on us, and she didnt dare beat me like Billy got. Dad was no better. He just didn't cook it. So anyway we are not here to talk chili revenge. See what i mean? Even when i have a topic i can go on a tangent.
My overeating was based on supply and demand. My mom did not eat that much, and they had a tea room where they had a nice dinner at lunch time. At night we would have soup and sandwiches or some such. weekends she would cook like an angel and keep my Dad really sweet. Roast or a lasagna or something we all liked. But more than once i went to the cupboard or fridge and it was bare. They were away on a horseshoe tournament, and it did not occur to them to bring something in. I learned to eat when the food was there. Now my Mom had been raised by maniacs, and she always tried to give a leftover pork chop or extra potatoes to him because he worked so hard and was thin as a rail. My Dads food was to gaze at Mom, that's all he wanted in life, and I don't think she appreciated it. It came to be an obsession over time, but he didn't need food like normal people. I never seemed full i ate so fast. I learnt not to go to the bathroom during dinner, as my milk would be messed with (drunk) in my absence. We were not allowed to eat until they got home from work because dinner was early(4:30 so they would be done before the news came on.) Billy would rifle through say a row of cake or half a loaf of bread, and say"look at her, and look at me ,who ate the cake?" When my folks weren't home, we would seek wicked revenge for snitching, and once i was so nice to my brother my Mom solemnly asked me, "was does he have on you? just tell me and he loses that power". The simple truth is we did not know how to be kind to one another. We used sarcastic humor like a weapon. We never missed the mark.
Wow I guess i am still angry. Talking about it is supposed to help, but it don't seem to have dissipated one bit to me.
Now my Mom is a benevolent old grandmother who never sees her 4 grandkids much, but she has really mellowed. I think partly due to a new marriage, and partly dementia, as in can't remember what she don't want to. Now she says all the time, "Brenda it just didn't happen"
and she believes it. It is good that i have Jim so i don't lose my own sense of self.It is good that i have Jim so I am not alone. It is good I have Jim because i need him, and all (with him) will be well.
Blessings
And sometimes I want to use my words to hurt something or someone. That is not why I have this gift. These words have two purposes in my mind. One is to reconcile my past so I can move on, and hopefully the second one is that my words will resonate with someone else who is struggling and help them push through the quagmire. There is alight at the end of the tunnel, and when i am angry all i can see is a huge train roaring down on me.
A shrink once told me that chili incites riot mode in me. Can you imagine? My mom found a way to terrorize me with chili con carne. Yes I am that weird. Any other night it was take it or leave it, but she wasn't making anything else till morning. I could live with it, and usually did. Too much in fact.
But when she was mad at me, she would make chili and insist i eat it. I know it sounds paranoid, but mom was losing her grip on us, and she didnt dare beat me like Billy got. Dad was no better. He just didn't cook it. So anyway we are not here to talk chili revenge. See what i mean? Even when i have a topic i can go on a tangent.
My overeating was based on supply and demand. My mom did not eat that much, and they had a tea room where they had a nice dinner at lunch time. At night we would have soup and sandwiches or some such. weekends she would cook like an angel and keep my Dad really sweet. Roast or a lasagna or something we all liked. But more than once i went to the cupboard or fridge and it was bare. They were away on a horseshoe tournament, and it did not occur to them to bring something in. I learned to eat when the food was there. Now my Mom had been raised by maniacs, and she always tried to give a leftover pork chop or extra potatoes to him because he worked so hard and was thin as a rail. My Dads food was to gaze at Mom, that's all he wanted in life, and I don't think she appreciated it. It came to be an obsession over time, but he didn't need food like normal people. I never seemed full i ate so fast. I learnt not to go to the bathroom during dinner, as my milk would be messed with (drunk) in my absence. We were not allowed to eat until they got home from work because dinner was early(4:30 so they would be done before the news came on.) Billy would rifle through say a row of cake or half a loaf of bread, and say"look at her, and look at me ,who ate the cake?" When my folks weren't home, we would seek wicked revenge for snitching, and once i was so nice to my brother my Mom solemnly asked me, "was does he have on you? just tell me and he loses that power". The simple truth is we did not know how to be kind to one another. We used sarcastic humor like a weapon. We never missed the mark.
Wow I guess i am still angry. Talking about it is supposed to help, but it don't seem to have dissipated one bit to me.
Now my Mom is a benevolent old grandmother who never sees her 4 grandkids much, but she has really mellowed. I think partly due to a new marriage, and partly dementia, as in can't remember what she don't want to. Now she says all the time, "Brenda it just didn't happen"
and she believes it. It is good that i have Jim so i don't lose my own sense of self.It is good that i have Jim so I am not alone. It is good I have Jim because i need him, and all (with him) will be well.
Blessings
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