Yesterday I hit the stores, as I still desperately need pants for work, having lost weight. I ended up buying pants two sizes smaller than my previous. No wonder the old ones were baggy. Two t-shirt type tops. Then also a pair of shoes. The shoes were very expensive, but on sale, so now they were actually the price of a regular pair I might buy. In all, quite a few hundred were spent. OK, three.
I spent all the money in my chequing account last month, without being quite sure how it happened. I can buy a few clothes every month, but not a whole lot, without dipping into savings. I’m making a reasonable income, so I was not sure what the problem was. I don’t go out a lot, I never buy things for the house, my grocery bills are very small. Then I realized – oh yeah, I pay for therapy. That takes a big chunk of change from my account right there. Forgot about that.
In the evening I went out to dinner with my SA group spin-off social group. Four of us eating Thai food. Not bad. Last time I went out with this group, I started to feel this intense loneliness towards the end of the meal. But I liked the people I was having dinner with, this time especially. I think the loneliness may have been the kid’s feeling, who is securely locked down at grown up affairs. This time I tried to let the kid out a bit. For instance, she got to stack the coffee creamers into nice towers and knock them down. And I think she added a comment or two into the mix. So in the end, I didn’t end up with that huge lonely feeling.
Today was completely spring like and beautiful. I’d promised my mother I’d drop by, so in the afternoon, I drove up to my parents’ place. None of my siblings was around, which made for a calmer time. First we had tea. I asked about the recent funeral of my aunt in Germany, so they filled me in. My father brought out some old photographs of his mother, and of his siblings as kids, which he’d brought back from Germany.
Then my mother and I went for a walk. They live beside a historical graveyard which is very large, so we walked there. My mother has a health worry, so she talked a bit about that. Then she wanted to talk about a philosophical book she was reading, about a Canadian musician. Then we talked about politics.
I’m trying not to be fake with my parents. I find I get confused. How could the things I remember really have happened? How could I have emerged from my family in parts? It starts to seem very unreal.
I am ready to be angry, if I need to be. But I don’t find anything to grasp onto. My parents are happy to see me. They talk cheerfully. Yes, they consider my job very low class, but they don’t come anywhere near saying that.
It is kind of as if everyone is constantly putting on a show, is how I can best describe it. This is what a classy, academic family is like. Always cheerful, never catty, never complaining. Always reading great books or working industriously in the garden. Composting everything. Recycling.
My mother and I walked for about an hour. For the first half hour, I was really anxious, though about what I couldn’t tell you. Then the anxiety faded, and we settled into chatting about politics. We have roughly the same opinions actually, so it was quite peaceful.
My mother has never wished to discuss ordinary things, like clothes, or things breaking, or people. It made life quite difficult, because nothing that a child or teenager has to deal with was ever discussed. I didn’t know things could be discussed, that this is a way humans have of making life possible, or at least easier. That if you have trouble with someone at school, you could talk about it. If you have bad skin, you could try drugstore stuff to help. Or doctors. If your feet hurt, you can try to figure out why, and do something.
It’s as if my mother thought we could take care of all these mundane issues entirely alone, while she read great literature and was lost in a separate world. That doesn’t work so well for children.
It never would have occurred to me to tell my mother a problem actually. I was trained from an early age to keep my problems to myself, since they were all my fault anyway.
Now when we try and talk, there is an air of unreality about the conversation. I still have no interest in telling her of any problems I have. So we chat about world issues.
Anyway, I saw them, so I don’t have to feel guilty about them for a while now.