(This was written at the beginning of March, 2019)
I wrote for my Mom’s FBI file. Yes, she had one. No, I’m not going to discuss why. The paperwork from any part of that inquiry has been missing for a long, long time. I found today my copy of the last correspondence with the FBI.
It seems like it was someone else who wrote for it. It’s certainly only a side-note now. Odd how we grow and change and the things which were vitally important can become only interesting side lights.
Posted in behaviors, cleaning up, Culling, dehoarding, Digging Out from Under, Hoarding, learning, Life Lessons, Making Home, Memoir, organization, paperwork, stuff, unexpected results
Tagged doesn't seem to have much to do with me now!, FBI FOI request, growth, Mom, personal history
I just watched part of a Hallmark movie. The daughter had some issue and her mother hugged & comforted her. It occurred to me that I’d never had that. Never had a parent’s comfort, or I never let myself believe it was real, because it was just too dangerous.
That was the Catch-22 my abuser put in my head: that people who were nice to me were just being polite or faking it and/or that my family just tolerated me.
So, whatever familial comfort I may have been given didn’t work, because I thought it was bogus — meant to trap me into hurting more or showing more vulnerability, so they could laugh at me privately, again.
The world I lived in was hostile, uncaring, and somehow I was wrong and I had no idea why that was so or how to fix it.
Mostly these days, this sort of thing doesn’t get to me. Every now and then, something just hits me over the head.
My husband was gone, but came home as I stared writing this post. He looked at a piece online which had a link to a story about these ducks:
and if you can stay depressed after watching these useful clowns, you’re worse than I was!