There was an uncomfortable sounding storm raging all night, disturbing sleep. Now, this morning, even at eight, it’s only 3ºF and according to my weather app it “feels like” -8ºF. We’re talking Fahrenheit… It’s too cold to snow (that’s supposed to hit us tomorrow, when it “warms up”), but the roads appear white, a kind of shocked pallor. Coffee.
Still reading Will I Ever Be Good Enough, and while I can’t say that my mother was a full-blown narcissist, she was depressed and very much an absence in my life. I recall one real conversation with her where she suddenly seemed happy – it was so out of the ordinary that it’s still salient. One. That’s it. Everything else sinks into a great Nothing. Depressed mothers aren’t around much. The resulting scars are similar, very, to the kind a narcissistic mother inflicts on her daughter(s). There’s a fundamental lack of validation and absence of recognition for who I am, and I’ve definitely played out the full panoply of overachiever AND self-saboteur as a result. I’m now concerned that [x] and I have fallen – or perhaps always were – in a pattern where [the person] plays the unresponsive mother and I’m the perpetually disappointed daughter. I really don’t understand, at this point, the extent to which I’m putting [other person] into this role versus what’s really coming, innately, from [other person] and is made “worse” by my reactions / patterns.
I need more coffee.
As I work through my relationship tangles I might tamp down even further on social media, Facebook in particular. I need contact with real people, voices, and bodies. When I go to Facebook, I should think the world is coming to an end by dint of the simple fact that Trump breathes.
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