I don’t actually do much and there’s always this little voice in my head reminding me to do more of this or that. Do more cleaning is a big one and comes up a lot. It’s mom stuff. She was always letting me know her disappointment in my version of ‘straightening up’.
She really meant ‘getting rid of’ but didn’t use those words. I tend to be literal in my translations so for me straighten up meant squaring the edges and removing only obvious out of place paraphenalia.
On the other hand I love to write. I used to love it a lot more before I let the negative stuff sink in. It’s a no win routine, a treadmill. You can adjust the speed to how fast or how slow you want to go nowhere……But I digress.
What I notice is that I have a guilty conscience when I’m not ‘doing something’. I’m not even sure what that means but I am sure it goes on…..when it is going on my thoughts are not supportive. It’s almost a voice within reminding me that I should be doing something…..more than I’m doing. Again, I never know what that thing is just that I should be doing it.
If I were to guess, and I love to speculate about almost everything I’d see it as my mother’s difficulty with giving me permission to be who I was/ am…..as still I hear or maybe sense her over my shoulder. A not so subtle reminder of all the years of my life having to get permission to be me. It was against the rules. I was against the rules. this is still true today as I’m not just rebellious of the rules but I am a total violation in bipedal human form. My every thought is contrary to the mass presumptions that are the standards we live by as a society…………I never knew why that was so…..Why it was I was so not like that ever? I’m going to be 73 in a few months. What that means is that I’ve lived my whole life trying to figure out this dilemma of being so different. I’ve written about it forever and my life has been all about finding answers under everything in my path. I take things apsrt searching for its core…..not always returning things to their original state but leaving what was once order as chaos in my wake.
Well, maybe ite’s not as dramatic as all that but still it’s true enough anyway.