Sins of the Father.

Or not really sins of the Father but the whole family, and not really sins but misgivings? Flaws? Inherited dysfunctions? I love my family dearly but now realise that as people and as family members none of us are perfect, and nor should we be. I felt for a long time that my parents should be perfect, that anything less was unacceptable and so over the years have felt let down by having seen them be human and make mistakes instead of being superhuman androids who know exactly what to say or do. I’ve realised that since her death I’ve had my Mum on a pedestal and I don’t think that’s a very healthy place for her to be (and also, she hated heights so I can just imagine her up there on this big fat pedestal squealing to come down!). I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve to be on a pedestal, in many respects she does because she was brave, and clever, and loving, and strong, and intelligent and a good friend but she was also scared, fragile and flawed just like the rest of us. Just like me in fact.

I had a mind bending session with the psychiatrist on Thursday (what, you think I can lose a whole persons worth of weight without some therapy? Pfft!) and have had to retreat into myself a little bit to do some serious thinking and analysing. And after speaking with Marmaloid who had her wise old owl hat on, despite being so hungover she wanted to die I started to feel a lot better about being me, flaws and all.

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