This is what happens when I decide that it’s a good idea to listen to The Cure. Not new snappy Cure, but old dark, Pornography. And so on the way to work, I listen to the lyrics, and I hear the first line. And it is like being slapped in the face. Stings. I am feeling dark. The Cure is dark. This is eddited Cure lyrics, bits reapplied, songs mixed….
I think I am kind of lost right now. I just feel…removed somehow. Maybe it is a seasonal thing? I was off the the boards, off adoption, alot last summer, but I chalked that up to Garin’s impeding surgery..but again, I feel it now. I have a sense of bordom, of restlessness. Stalemate. Come to think of it, that’s probably a direct reflection on my relationship with Max. Yes, dear…
I would love to see a real deep physiological study done on the growing up, formative years of women who “choose” to become mothers of loss. My guess is that we were not loved unconditionally by mothers with issues who tended to be narcissistic I think our fathers might be either absent or didn’t stand up to our mothers rule. And maybe that could also be reversed too? I wonder if we ever felt worthy of anything, so how could we be worthy of our children?
It’s a hard battle to feel I am suppose to have anything I want and keep it. Sometimes I don’t feel I deserve it at all. And then, part of me screams how much I should have and I am entitled. But I still am afraid of the loss again.