Gone mental

Notes from my Black
Ad 2:
Try a new drinks recipe site
2023-05-02 12:03:04 (UTC)

The mother in her

Last night I told someone about my mom’s reaction to the re-release Level 2. My mom didn’t understand the need. I explained it. She didn’t understand if it was the same, I explained how really little kid’s brains work. “So it really the same story?” She asked. She still didn’t get it. I explained how the sentence structure is simplified and how the arc is less dramatic.

My mom’s response was not only she didn’t understand the point, she wouldn’t be supporting it. “Well I probably won’t be buying one.” Ok mom. I didn’t expect you to. Then she asked again if I was writing another story about a skunk. Yes… but I won’t be having it illustrated until this one is doing better/. Then she found a flaky reason to get off the phone…

It’s manipulative. Her response was a lazy response that was aimed at shame. I am supposed to be ashamed that this re-release is not a new book, and a new story. Her goal may be to have me be wildly successful and maybe on tv, but I’m pretty sure her real goal is to have something to brag about to her snooty friends. She didn’t think this next step was worthy, so she cut me off. She cut off possible financial support. She cut off emotional support. Then she tried to shake me into doing what she really wanted.

I still call her every week. We have a 30-60 minute conversation that she will end at her discretion depending on how she feels about what I’m doing. This kind of malfunctioning is how I grew up. Somehow it feels normal. I don’t always have the ability to see it in honesty because I so easily get wrapped in the dysfunction. This time I saw it.

It may seem like I’m speaking of this either in anger or as if I’m cleansed and am devoid of feelings about it. Neither is true. This hurts me deeply. It puts me on shaky ground. It reminds me just how little chance I had making it through my childhood. I absolutely blame my inabilities on my childhood and this type of imagery… but I’m not angry about it, not really. I’m weighted by it. I wear that coat every day, practically every moment. It’s a heavy weighted coat and it doesn’t seem to lighten lately with understanding. In the past if I understood, I could move past it. This time it’s sitting heavy, stagnant, and impenetrably. I’ll continue to chip away and pick the lint for now. It just is what it is.