I am 31 years old... I was born into a family full of regrets, especially on my mother's side. Of extremely conservative upbringing and full of well "defined" stereotypes. The kind where pink is for "girls" and blue for "boys". My mother all my life had a kind of personal project of her own with me. That is, I had to be something like "her improved version". My older brother was the opposite. With him, absolute freedom defined him..... As I said earlier, in my home, life and what you could do, was directly related to the sex you were born with.
Fear was the first emotion I remember. In fact, even before mother-daughter episodes with my mother. She was always a woman dedicated to her work and when she was at home, what she used to do was to dedicate herself to cleaning and tidying up inside the home. My sex education, like millions of women in my generation, was at best absolutely ridiculous. It all boiled down to one thing "you must arrive virgin and pure at marriage" (yes, in the 21st century). Since my mother was always less than three feet away from me, I didn't quite know what privacy or independence meant....
Over the years I discovered that my mother is a woman with a horrible phobia of loneliness. She is the type of person who would do anything to never be alone. And I learned this by analyzing the relationship she has had with my father. A man who only knows how to do one thing: work tirelessly. In fact, the only time I ever saw him really depressed was when he was retired from work. He stayed home for a whole year and I think that fact affected him deeply. He is also a man of few, very few words. He doesn't show or externalize any emotion....
Quite the opposite with my mother. She is a woman who is pure emotion. Everything is a drama, an end, an enemy? She is always the "victim", the one who has been "wronged". As a good son of a cat, I also "hunt mice". In other words, being raised as a carbon copy of my mother, by my mother and with the tacit approval of my father by inaction, I grew up exactly like her.... And this I knew through the contrast that life itself has taught me. Seeing and knowing how my perception of life was in relation to that of others.
I grew up and felt that life was either "black or white". Either you believed in God, made a home and attended mass every Sunday, or you were "dangerous" or "irresponsible". Eventually, perhaps a little later than usual, I realized that it was for a very simple reason: the fear of living. Since I was a child I knew that I was not like anyone else in my house; least of all with my mother. I loved art, the understanding of colors and shapes. Growing up, in my adolescence, I did not feel guilty or that it was "bad" to feel and seek pleasure.... Another thing, is that I never felt comfortable showing who I really was.
Remember, guilt is a very difficult weight to bear. Parents are the pillars of any child's life. And while I wouldn't say I had bad parents, (because I'd be lying) I also couldn't say that my conflicted relationship with my mother didn't play a role in my life. Everything seemed (always) to be wrong. If I wore shorts I "provoked" men, if a shirt had any cleavage it "provoked men". Friends (to my mother) were a waste of time, because according to her, "friends don't exist..." Go figure.
I grew up and felt that life was either "black or white". Either you believed in God, made a home and attended mass every Sunday, or you were "dangerous" or "irresponsible". Eventually, perhaps a little later than usual, I realized that it was for a very simple reason: the fear of living. Since I was a child I knew that I was not like anyone else in my house; least of all with my mother. I loved art, the understanding of colors and shapes. Growing up, in my adolescence, I did not feel guilty or that it was "bad" to feel and seek pleasure.... Another thing, is that I never felt comfortable showing who I really was.
Remember, guilt is a very difficult weight to bear. Parents are the pillars of any child's life. And while I wouldn't say I had bad parents, (because I'd be lying) I also couldn't say that my conflicted relationship with my mother didn't play a role in my life. Everything seemed (always) to be wrong. If I wore shorts I "provoked" men, if a shirt had any cleavage it "provoked men". Friends (to my mother) were a waste of time, because according to her, "friends don't exist..." Go figure.
I ended all this through therapy but mainly, after I had my daughter 8 years ago. I will tell that story someday, I am sure, but it will not be today. Now, a pillar to change my thinking, curiously enough, was the discovery and acceptance of pleasure. And not just in the erotic, but in the mundane. From buying accessories as silly as flannels or girls clothes, to watching my babe do her performances in dance class. I learned to separate from my mother once and for all through reflection, through pain but also with the help of therapy and the support of my partner and friends....
So, is my mother a bad person? No, I don't think so. But I am sure that sometimes a person can do a lot of harm with the best of intentions. Even if they are your mother or father. And that is really dangerous and sad. Many times I have looked for her to apologize and understand her share of guilt and hurt, I am 31 years old; almost, almost 32 and I don't think it's going to happen.... I guess there are certain truths that are hard to accept and acknowledge. In the meantime, here I am sharing with you and showing you my photographs full of melancholy and reflection. Thanks for reading me, boys and girls.
