Just yesterday, I got into a shouting match with my Mom. Yep, the same lady I've been patiently hearing out about her failed marriages and how various people keep letting her down, while trying to constantly reassure her that I'll always be there for her, etc. All this, in the hope that one day she will get over it. Because, after all, in this Age of Aquarius (or whatever we choose to call this particular Renaissance), Healing is Everything.
However, in the midst of tears and accusations, slammed doors and flying snot, she told me clearly that she has no intention of getting over her internal drama, but that I did have the right to not be a participant to it.
Wow. I wish she'd informed me of that hidden option 17 years ago. That way, I wouldn't have indulged her for the last 17 years in the hope that someday, it'll be my turn to talk to her about my relationship with my Dad without her jumping in with her crap of marrying and being abandoned by the same asshole. Someday, I always imagined, 'll be my turn to spew venom about the years of being torn between Dad and Mom and being the perfect daughter so that they wouldn't have any other complaints in their life. I thought that someday, I'll be able to talk about all of that and hopefully, heal.
No such luck, clearly. And here was the shocker: the minute the words came out of my mouth, I saw the flaw in my reasoning. You see, I finally wrapped my head around a simple truth: My mom owed me nothing. Our parents owe us nothing. Just as they didn't intend to screw us up, they can't intend to fix us the way we need to be.
But there's a real lesson in there - and it's not what you think. While I heard myself talk to her, and marvel secretly about how mature and calm I was (almost detached), I realised that everyday we make a choice about how to live our lives. And the choice we make is whether we:
a) Decide to get over all our crap in your life and lead contented, unruffled lives or
b) Decide to hold on to all our crap and use it as material for fulfilled creative ambitions.
And while my whole life has been geared towards getting over stuff, I somehow think my mom has it right. She - with all her carefully nurtured psychoses - has written an entire book (which some people say is really good), while I write blog posts.
And the irony of this particular revelation? The minute I realised that my mom wasn't going to be the source of my healing, and that Dad is always going to be the asshole, I had no choice but to deal with the fact that my Life and all I make of it is going to be my choice. Yes, I know it's common knowledge, but you'll be surprised how much of a distance exists between common knowledge and relevant wisdom.
So now, I'm more well-adjusted than I was yesterday. And I probably have lesser things to write about.
This healing business is sucking a bit right now. Not to mention the kind of havoc it's playing with my ambitions. Dammit!