“I want everything,” the adult me said to myself strolling along the beach. “I want all the Good in my life that can possibly be. I deserve it. I want it. And, I claim it.” The sun beat down on me and my dog friend, Sasha. “Thank you, Wisdom Part, for looking after me. Thanks for helping me create a life I like.”
“Sasha!” I yelled. He was eating some dead piece of sea life. At my call, he loped over. “You don’t need to eat that.” He dropped it. I gave him some pats, and we continued walking. I smiled and felt hopeful.
(I FELT QUITE A BIT MORE RELAXED TOO. Yeah, quite a bit.)
* * * * * * *
“Change moves so slow, but speed is not of the essence,” I told myself.
The adult me worked hard on saying no to my mother. In the intervening years between Western and the present, I managed only little steps in breaking out of the emotional entanglement between us. Jeanette (my mother) fought me every step of the way.
* * * * * * *
(IT’S AS IF SOMEBODY IS TRAPPED, SCREAMING, TRYING TO GET OUT. Yeah. I CAN FEEL THEM FROM A LONG WAY OFF. So? IT FEELS LIKE SASIFRAZ USED TO WHEN I COULD FEEL HIM COMING. Really? THAT’S THE FRENETIC ENERGY I FEEL JUST BEFORE I WRITE. Interesting. I USED TO GIVE UP AND SURRENDER TO HIM AND JUST BE UPSET. And be self-destructive. AND CUT MY ARM. I love that term “used to.” THANKS A LOT.)
* * * * * * *
Jeanette was obsessed with my brother, Jack, and I. Probably because after the divorce, we were her only source of pride. When she was around me, she wanted to touch me all the time. She wanted my undivided attention.
It created a tremendous pressure in me. The natural inclination to distance myself from my mother came into conflict with the natural inclination to provide what my mother wanted. A happy medium did not seem to exist.
During the years after my departure from Western and into my adult life, we went from the extremes of seeing each other a lot to not speaking at all. With regularity, a year of not communicating would cycle into a year of bi-weekly visits.
For years, I felt no movement forward or change in our relationship. I felt doomed to circle around until counseling with BJ led me to the magic of setting limits.
* * * * * * *
“Mom, I don’t want you to swat me on the butt any more.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like it. I don’t even let my lover do it.”
“Ok.”
* * * * * * *
“Mom, when you see me, you can kiss me once at the beginning and once when you say good-bye.”
“What about a hug?”
“Ok, one hug and one kiss in the beginning and at the end.”
“What about hair sniffing?”
“Ok, one hug, one kiss, and one hair sniffing, but that’s all.”
* * * * * * *
“Mom, things have changed. You only get a hug. No kissing.”
“What about hair sniffing?”
I bolstered my courage and took a deep breath. “No hair sniffing either.”
“But, I have an agreement. I get one hug, one kiss, and hair sniffing when I see you and when I say good-bye.”
“I changed the agreement.”
“That’s not fair. I have an agreement. I get….”
“I know. I changed the agreement.”
“Well, then, can I have two hugs?”
“Nuh-uh.”
My mother hugged me three times to make up the difference, but I thought I was getting somewhere anyway.