Heartbreaker, irresponsible

My brother always used to call me a heartbreaker.  People always fell in love with me.

My mother, on the other hand, was someone who always fell in love with everybody.

The two of us together was a disaster.

I am finally letting go of the guilt of being the pretty, brilliant, autistic, (brain-damaged?), obsessive-compulsive sister whom everybody loved but nobody liked.

Because I see how my mother made it work.  Throughout my life I FINALLY SEE, and now I can let go of just about everything, she has been in love with me.  Mostly she likes boys, she also likes young men, she also likes men her own age.  But most of ALL she loved ME.  She loved to call me up on the phone and pretend I was her mother.  She was a little in love with my sister too, but this she was able to let go of, they played it out adequately.  My sister’s claim to fame was an astigmatism in her eye(s?) that wasn’t discovered until late grade school.  She went on to improve her grades and star in a high school dramatic production.  She got a lot of wide open can’t take my hands off you love from my father, which left her contented.  Me, on the other hand:  if my father loved me, he didn’t express it very well.  So I kept a dramatic mystique which sky-rocketed my mother and of course as the years progressed this only deepened.  For a long time in these later years she has loved to hate me.  It got bad.  Now, per my last post, there is a return to those younger years which I just BROKE!  Fug you M.! (that was how my little one said it to his enemies at school.)  She abandoned me tonight, after asking for a hug this morning in a way that I thought was special to her, and sent my son away too, and I have been alone and perning in a gyre (Yeats) around the area of pain in my blank, empty insides.  So I broke her heart.  “I don’t care, M!”  So now she’s heartbroken.  One of her favorite expressions.  I did this in my mind.  At the same time all those boys I hurt in my younger years, not really even knowing it, fell out of the woodworks of my mind and away from me and I am free, FREE at last, to love my son who is comin’ at me, n I don’t know where things go from here.  When I go through a change like this the first thing I always think of is my ex-husband and what this means to us.  He always used to say that I had met my match in him, that my eyes were nice but his were nicer, et cetera.  When he saw my high school graduation yearbook photo he said I had been a true beauty after all, fit for an Arab Prince, which I didn’t like much.  I weighed around 200 pounds at the time, same as now.  Then at the New Year’s Even party at R. n J.’s, Max was there, Max said, to be correct, “stunning!” when I walked in in my all black outfit.  “Stunned,” my ex said, sitting back in his chair.  (This doesn’t mean he was stunned.  It meant I was stunned.)  (common exp.?)  “You aren’t that special,” he said, when I was trying to get a diagnosis of partial complex seizures.  Unfortunately I am.  Sorry old Sand.  You just wanted to be better.  It’s not exactly fun being undiagnosable for 34 years and counting.  (He is better though.)  Maybe this isn’t exactly a mental journey but it is an important passage in one.

Oh, yes, God said to be careful with my mother right now because she is giving me some money to help me through a bad time in my coverage gap for medication.  So I didn’t just say all that.



Oh, I’m sorry God, this is just so big I have to say it.  This is my whole life.  This is my whole married life.  It’s not just a passage in a journey it’s life itself.

So, sometimes life gets solved in the after-notes.

 

 

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