A family member enraged me today. She is not a blood relative. Her intent was to give me professional advice regarding my mother. In fact, she stipulated that she was writing as a professional and not as a family member. I would have preferred to hear from a family member.
It was unsolicited advice and most unwelcome. Although I'm sure she would disagree, her letter seemed heartless and condescending. She attempted to convince me to stop calling my mother in the Memory Unit, but she failed to make a persuasive or a cohesive case for her position.
I called my mother tonight.
In defiance?
Maybe you (also) wanted to talk to her.
ReplyDeleteDifficult moments.
Right you are.
ReplyDeleteSince Dr. B. has returned, I haven't been writing very much. I've been busier during the week with my morning drives into DC, and meeting students in the afternoon.
As for this weekend, t seems I've spent most of it belly dancing (a terrible description, by the way). Yesterday, a 2-hour workshop, and today, my regular lesson. Despite the rain, I was very excited about driving out to Haymarket, and had such a wonderful time.
I'm having a bit of trouble writing about my brother in my blog. I love him very much even though our relationship so difficult to maintain. Writing about him seems extremely disloyal. However, I'll probably continue to try precisely because it it so hard.
Perhaps I'll write about that within the next couple of day.
Hope you are well.
"Writing about him seems extremely disloyal." It all depends on what the writing is, doesn't it? If it responds to a wish to shame him, that could be a betrayal. If it's an effort to identify what one wishes to save, and what stands in the way of that salvation, it could be a great act of fidelity. Now, what if it is both -- as it so often is?
ReplyDeleteThe whole question of how much to say about what matters most to me, and to whom to say it, is very much on my mind these days. Like you, I find a clue in the level of difficulty of the enterprise, in a distrust of my own resistance. But clues like that are in their nature hard to follow. Where does therapeutic self-doubt end and appropriate self-respect begin? One only discovers this in conversation with another.
After I received the aforementioned letter (in the blog), I did talk to my brother about its content without mentioning its author. We both know her, but I decided to leave her out of the conversation. But although there were two people talking, there were three people present.
DeleteI think the notion of self-respect is so relevant here. I tend to take too much on the chin, and that's putting it mildly. I decided to put forth a strong argument for calling my mother, but attempted to present it a somewhat reserved, respectful, loving manner, even though I was pretty furious as I spoke. (I wonder if he heard that? Probably.) I explained that I understood that he and I were very different, and that our mother relates to each of us differently. He eventually did entertain the idea of calling our mother.
When I felt he couldn't handle any more talk about those feelings, I shifted again to the safety of my niece. It was actually one of the longest, least contentious conversations we've had in years. But it was hard work.
I must admit, though, I felt a bit too triumphant. I had won! He agreed with me. He hardly ever agrees with me. Of course, I then felt guilty for feeling triumphant. Such a coarse feeling. Not at all sisterly. But I do feel I made some progress. Still, there is the next conversation to cope with.
How much to say about important matters, and to whom to say it (to paraphrase slightly). Very hard issues. But as you say, you don't know until you try, "in conversation with another."