Now I think there is a new element in the mix that could explain the timing. I was sexually abused by a cousin when I was 5 or 6 or 7, and she insisted that only she and I would ever know. So she never, as far as I know, told my father, his sister or anyone else. It would make sense if she felt guilty for not protecting me from the cousin. Her behavior viewed from this angle fits.
My behavior as a10 year old and up was rebellious and I wonder if she felt responsible somehow. And possibly every time I got myself in trouble she felt somehow that she had let me down and blamed herself. Then got depressed. This would make me an unwitting cause of her suffering.
She died youngish, 67, of what
amounts self-abuse. She was a heavy smoker and user of many prescription drugs
for depression, asthma and digestive issues and pain, all except smoking
started around 1950. Who really can know
what was going on in her mind after years of electroconvulsive therapy, “happy
pills” etc.? The answer is “no one”. I think, though, that the guilt she must
have felt was a part of who she was, and how she was. Looking back from my
perspective now I say to her “Ma, you did the very best you could with what you
had. You did nothing wrong. The only thing you are guilty of is loving me. If
you need to be forgiven then I forgive you. But please, forgive yourself. You
were the best Ma you could have been. That is enough for me.”
And strangely (or not) I have lit
candles for her in most Catholic churches and Cathedrals I have visited in
Europe. I am not a believer, but somehow it felt right to do that simple act.
Probably my behavior and hers are tied in some intricate knot of emotion, love,
guilt and survival.
Anyway, that’s part of my story.
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1 comment:
Isn't it interesting how we have such perspective in our older age? I too have had such epiphanies about my mother as well. You, however, are much more eloquent than I could ever be. So enjoy reading your blog!
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