Tuesday, October 13, 2009

sit there, and count your little fingers

God, she was having a hell of a rough night. She tried to chalk it up to hormones, of the menopause variety. And maybe it was. But she was overcome with recurring visions of this memory.

Or perhaps, it was the fact that this was the only memory she could muster in which any affection occurred between her and either parent, that was preying on her psyche. That was making it so very poignant.

Try though she might, she simply couldn't bring to light a single memory that involved either parent holding her, hugging her, or engaging in any other parently type of loving touch.

They must have done it sometime, right? That's what parents do. They hug their kids. They tell them they love them. Right? Sure they do.

So they must have done it, and she just can't remember it. But shouldn't she be able to remember at least one time? Just one? Why would her mind unilaterally block every single memory of any loving gesture?

She'd been lying awake at night for a couple of nights now, tears leaking out the sides of her eyes unchecked. Did the hugs happen and she just can't remember? Or were neither of her parents -- not the mother with the borderline personality disorder, nor the father who left and never looked back -- capable of that kind of normal parenting behavior.

Strangely, she felt as though she were in mourning. Little girl blue.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Any narcissist or sociopath can have a child. The problem is they raise daughters who seek out narcissists and sociopaths for mates. It may all well be sponsored by Pfizer Pharmaceuticals and Gillette Razors and The Betty Ford Clinic.

It's an empty life that feels full only with food, drugs, pain, alcohol, verbal abuse and the like so here's to mom and dad! Lets all raise our glasses of arsenic and toast the bastards.

Happy Thursday Spring.