I blame my parents!
For a long time I was a goody-goody as far as my parents were concerned, aping their opinions and ideas and ways of being. And then, in my early thirties, I realised it was time to do teenage, which I had never done properly, and separate myself a bit. I discovered my emotions. They were anger, frustration, resentment and fear.
I think this was a good stage to go through. I had been hurt, and I did need to self-protect. And. Now I know that my parents did their absolute best for me. Knowing what I do of their circumstances and antecedents, I think they did wonderfully well. I love my father’s enthusiasm for his work as a teacher, always seeking out new ways to engage with each child. Now he is retired, 86, still dancing.
I have decided that my most important memories of my mother are two particular wonderful hugs, expressing, perceiving and sharing love both ways. And. She worked so hard, all the time, and wanted the best for me the best way she knew how. And. Born fifty years later, she would have absolutely and completely got all this Personal Growth, and flown with it.
For years, I could have told you a story of my mother and then wailed, “She didn’t understand!” with as much emotion as if the incident had happened an hour before. And then, it clicked. “Oh, Riiight! She didn’t understand!” Relief, liberation, joy.