As one can imagine, taking photographs is strictly verboten around this joint. There may or may not have been a few snapped by The Caddy when the kiddos were here this last weekend, and I’ve used those to look at on my desk and remember their visit here and feel close to them when I’m so lonely for them.
When my parents were here last weekend, my mother took a few photos of me in the outside gazebo (where I have suddenly taken up smoking, apparently), with her face mashed into mine, in varying poses. Yesterday, I received an influx of messages in my email, and was able to quickly check my text messages – under, of course, the watchful eye of a minder, to make sure I didn’t drink it, or something – and had also received a veritable flood of concerned texts from friends. Jenny (hi Jenny!) called to enlighten me as to the source of the concern.
For an unknown reason, my mother posted the photo of she and me with mashed faces on her Facebook profile. The caption reads something close to, “I hope [my daughter] knows how much I loved her and what a difference she made to me. I REALLY hope it matters to her and that she knows somehow how much she taught me about how to love.” Or something. Apparently, I’m dead. She also, directly adjacent, posted a photo of her and Two, and captioned it, “My Two”.
So, after about 18 hours of consideration, discussion and reflection, I am ready to confront her about the photo and the post. I am currently in deliberation about the best way – for ME – to do it. Email? Phone? (*eeeeeeeek!!!!*), what am I trying to convey? What is my point? What do I want to accomplish? Oh dear Lord, I am terrified, but I am also angry, and pushing past the fear to reclaim my boundaries.
Trust me when I say I will update you.
UPDATE:
I spoke with our family therapist point person, and I have put in an email to the mother, asking if she’s free for a (refereed) phone call tomorrow at 4 pm. I already have stomach issues. I can do this. It won’t kill me. I can do this.
Same Clothes Since Friday 