"Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves without any insistence that they satisfy you" Dr. Wayne W. Dyer
What I want to know is what will satisfy me as far as my mother goes?
Funny, I thought I would be satisfied if she were to show all who she is, now today, and who she was all those years ago. For her to show her insanity.
She can’t be more visible, yet unseen!
What I failed to appreciate is that what I call insanity some see as sane!
Her actions are typical for her, so they see that their world hasn’t changed, they see their normal mom.
They find comfort in her unchanging ways.
What leaves me breathless is that no one seems to care that she is staying in the same house with my father, the pedophile. That this choice of hers isn’t insane.
Their fabulous mother is simply stopping off in Dallas for a spell. A normal event in their lives.
How can your really overlook, look pass and around the fact that her husband wounded so many little girls?
How is she not seen as insane or incredibly blind and disconnected for being able to be in the same space as him?
Two birds of the same feathers…
My inability to shed a glimmer of light to show how off base her actions are leave me voiceless.
How in the hell can I utter one word that will outshine her very own actions?
Sadly being satisfied that your mother is insane doesn’t feel good, knowing that she is okay with the man who raped you leaves you reeling in thoughts and feelings.
I wonder if us kids of incest are forever seeking to be satisfied in a way that is impossible to have?
Is our own sanity jepordized by the fact that we still want something from our insane parents?
Isn’t insanity trying to fix a problem at the same level at which it was created? (Einstien)
If my satisfaction will only come when my insane parents make sane moves, I will be forever waiting.
Accepting their insanity has been the hardest thing to do.
Or is accepting that no loves lives there…
Perhaps we are always on the look out for that little drop of love, just one little tiny dot.
And all we see is more and more reasons how they don’t.
How sad we subconsciously are waiting in hope.
“Looking for love in all the wrong places….”
