Problematic relationships with parents are all too common. Many of us wind up defining ourselves in opposition to who we think our parents are.
That was me for easily the first twenty-five years of my life. I was already shaped by stories of my grandfather’s musical abilities and interest in making small, perfect ships in wood. It was insidious. My family background lurked like a raptor high in the trees, waiting for me to have an unguarded moment. My mother’s love of reading was a corsage of lovely flowers that I couldn’t resist. And my father’s abiding interest in hunting for the perfect boat, going and getting a ship, or just continuously tinkering lay in wait for me.
I was in therapy in the 1980’s when I began to realize I could exploit the gifts given, without being them.
One day, in my forties, I had that moment when I looked into the mirror and saw my parents looking at me. I had inherited the hair, cheeks, and eyes. I had also inherited some potent gifts that I had made my own. And that made it possible for me to create the me I am.
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And may I be the first one to say, you have done a magnificent job!
Thanks!
You turned out great, Lou! We all probably carry those monkeys on our backs as those monkeys carry monkeys etc.
My God, MAK! It’s Hominid evolution!
One hopes it’s evolution… 🤣
great article
❤️❤️
Great Article
Very nice
You make me laugh, Lou. I always said I would be what my parents were not. Some of that worked out fine but now I look in the mirror or open my mouth and there they are! Both my parents. 🙂
Yeah. It’s hard to run away entirely. It is very nice to hear from you!
Life is in full swing but I’m trying to get a blog posted with some editing; maybe this afternoon.
I’ll look forward to it!