Contemplation

This is me on Mother's Day, feeling a bit out of sorts...When I look at my face I see both my father and my mother. It is a strange to see them reflected back to me instead of the self that I feel inside. I guess we carry with us forever both our parents. My father passed away over forty years ago and my mother almost four years now. Yet I feel them as living presences within me. Sometimes they seem more real to me than myself. My theory is that learning to love and accept our parents is a road to learning to love and accept ourselves. It has taken me a long time to see that and to work through some negative feelings towards my parents. Yet the more I can forgive their human failings, the better I feel about myself.

My mother was the overly cautious one. She worried about everything and tried to control things. She was the saver. She was shy and self conscious. She hated spur of the moment. She wanted to know what was going to happen and what was expected of her. She was reliable but not always open emotionally. I said I would never be like her. But of course I am like her.

My father was flamboyant, extravagant, impulsive, creative, irresponsible in many ways and emotional, probably manic-depressive. I think he suffered from P.T.S.D. He was a medic on the front lines in WWII for two years. He was charming and unpredictable. He had an uncontrollable temper. I said I would never be like him. But of course I am like him. (I think I have finally overcome my temper but only after it caused immeasurable harm in the past.)

They seemed so mismatched but on looking back, I see they balanced each other perfectly, although through a great deal of pain to each of them. So, here I am with all these conflicting qualities. I will take big risks but I will also worry about the risks for weeks in advance. I drive myself and those around me crazy with my worrying. Yet I will take the risk at the end of this extensive worrying. Sometimes I wish I had what I consider NORMAL PARENTS. You know, people who were more balanced and predictable. But I had what I had. I just need to keep on working at loving and accepting them as they were and not as I wish they had been. And the more I do that, the more I can love all of my own quirks. I believe that what makes us loveable as humans is not our perfections but our so called failings, faults and inconsistencies. With this in mind, maybe I am after all, QUITE LOVEABLE.