“My parents were always fighting. They weren’t very supportive. I used to be bitter about it. I was caught up on how my life could have been different if I had better parents. How things would have been different if x, y, and z had happened. But then you get older and you realize maybe they didn’t have the capacity to give you what you needed. They couldn’t understand you, just like you couldn’t understand them. You realize they were dealing with their own disappointments. And you even start to think, ‘Maybe I could have been a better son.’”I thought to myself the how it parallels my life narrative, to a degree. Right up until I got to the last sentence.
I mean, hey, if my folks were working out their own shit, dealing with their own disappointments and baggage, they were STILL the adults in this dynamic. And if they were doing the best they could with the hand they were dealt, why cannot the inverse be also valid, that I was trying to do the best that I could do with what I was dealt.
Thought provoking for sure.
For years, as a coping mechanism, I tried to make a silk purse out of the sow's ear, and looked the other way, and still tried to make Audrey happy. When that finally stopped working, my next coping mechanism was to convince myself that Audrey is handicapped, emotionally handicapped and unable to be who we need her to be, as well as be who SHE NEEDS TO BE FOR HERSELF. When that finally stopped working as a coping mechanism, I finally see her as she truly is, a destructive narcissistic sociopath, devoid of a conscience, devoid of self-awareness. I see a husk of a human being, frittering away what precious time she's got left, wrapped up in her constant feeding frenzy to be the center of the known universe, and like the Emperor in the Emperor's New Clothes, she's in total denial that her nakedness is clearly evident for all to see.
Ain't nobody got time for that.
No comments:
Post a Comment