My mother is a ridiculous woman, partly just quirkiness and loud clothes, but mostly it’s all mental illness. And I know that is *mostly* not her fault (or at least it wouldn’t be if she would ever go see a doctor or take the meds that are prescribed to her) and I really try to be compassionate. But as I start my own family, the fear that I will become her is panic-worthy. The other day I put on a broomstick skirt and even though it was tasteful, pretty, black, and understated, I shuddered in the mirror. I looked like the memory of my mother, who in the 80s was still wearing her hippie-religious-chick clothes from 15 years before.
So I’ve got a lot to work through. But mainly I need to understand that her tendency to obsess relentlessly about something was apparently genetic and there’s really nothing I can do.
Case in point: I bought (another) box of pregnancy tests today. Today is only 5 days past a *possible* unconfirmed ovulation. I know there is no way in hell I’ll get a positive result. Now, partly I wanted to do it to prove a point to myself. That point had to do with a false positive result I got last month around the same time. But partly I’m just obsessed. With needing more. More knowledge, more possibilities, more confirmation. Even though I don’t have *anything* yet, much less something I could ask for more of.
So I beat myself up after the negative result. Ridiculous lady, spending, wasting money on something I know is useless. Plus I probably won’t get pregnant anyway. EtC. but the one thing about trying to be compassionate about my mother is this: it means I have to learn to be compassionate towards myself in these moments. Because one day I will be someone’s crazy mommy. I just hope knowing that will help me make more loving, better decisions. I think I can do that for us all.
