Apparently, Feelings Are Always Important

Well, it was bound to occur. I move closer to Mom anticipating a glorious reunion and a Utopian existence. Only. It lasted for a mere 90 days post-relocation. Then the shit hit the fan.

Which in our family, simply means that Mom hit some sort of low point which triggered an attack with the usual rhetoric, her favorite, how Scott is an asshole, along with other songs and variations. It digressed into criticism of our parenting and even touched on the kids and how they only eat mac-n-cheese and hot dogs. Lovely.

Blah, blah, blah, long story short, we're in therapy together, blah, blah, blah, Mom's going to get a spanking, blah, blah, blah, instead, apparently 34-year-old Jenny has an 11-year-old Jenny inside her that has been made to believe that her feelings aren't important and didn't get loved and validated the way she needed to which all connects to my idiotic drive/need/dream of hoping this is the time my Mom will show up differently and not lash out with something hateful. Erroneous.

So cliche? Right? But dang it, it makes a lot of sense and I'm realizing what a downplay I've given my own feelings over the years. Hurt I can claim, but admitting something hurts during the time of infliction, hard to do for me. And so, I philosophize and wonder, do I make sure that my kids know that regardless of the issue, they're feelings are valid whether they make sense to me or not? Hmmmm.

And now, for homework, I'm supposed to process and mourn some of those old hurts and grieve them out of my system so that I don't energize new situations with old hurts. But even this is hard for me to do. "Hmmm. I have a spare hour, I think I'll sit down and bring up something painful and work it out. Then I'll check Natalie's homework and make dinner."

I feel tired.