Tracing the roots of my dis-ease
This was how I felt in the morning. A little bit tired but quite chipper, quite fresh..within two hours of this I was chucking my guts down the loo from a semi-horizontal position. and then within another two stuffing my face with biscuits. Bizarre! This got me thinking about paradoxes. The sadness and the joy, the pain and the pleasure, the hate and the love, the fear and the safeness..all present for me at once sometimes. Lots of laughing lots of weeping.
My theme at the moment is this motherlessness I mentioned before and all the different ways of being absent mother's can be. I know, I have been and my mother was absent for me. Being ill was a major inconvenience in our house. My mother would be insensed if we were. It was a change to the routine that she clung to. A disruption of the highest order. She woud make you wish you were never born and in the same moment she would know 'exactly' what to do in a 'crisis'. She would be there with clean sheets and towels, hankies, soup, semolina pudding, steamed white fish and even a hot water bottle. But she wasn't present, not there with us. Somehow she was nowhere to be found. She was off somewhere in her tormented mind, running away from it all, running running as fast as she could from the trauma of it all. So the giving and receiving of love; it was a paradoxical experience in our household.
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