Who am I?
I don't know where to begin. I woke in the night looking for Penelope. Feeling for her in the dark, wanting her touch and it wasn't there.
The words I heard were "It's time to grow up". I think it was words like that which originally shut me down about life and joy and mystery. Now I'm feeling alone and desolate. The night feels barren and empty of possibility. I can't hear her, where is she? She promised she'd always be there.
Like someone else promised?
I think so. And she left me behind.
Who?
I think it was my mom. She raised me after my folks split when I was a baby. I think we were very close, when I was very small, and I suspect something happened.
Something?
She was in college in a Social Work program. At some point during that she brought me to live with my maternal grandparents while she went back to school. It's all confused.
Try spelling it out.
I have flashes of maybe memory of being bathed by her where she's topless. I imagine she bathed my genitals. I imagine that was stimulating. I wonder if I got an erection at some point and that scared her (being as she was probably getting a dose of Freudian theory in school).
Maybe that provoked the transfer to my grandparents. I expect my grandmother did not bathe me topless and wash my genitals. Guess what associations I made.
All speculation on my part, though my mom did confirm the topless bathing part once. All the other participant parties are now gone.
Would account for a number of emotional hangups of mine. As well as a long standing fascination with mother/son incest; though not me with her particularly, as I grew older I generally found her physically unappealing, bordering on repulsive (reaction formation?)
Tell me about your mother.
Are you turning into my psychiatrist now?
Just do it.
She was very emotionally needy. Used me as something of an intimacy "crutch" when she didn't have anyone else in her life, easily set aside when she did. I was encouraged to be a very quiet, "safe" little boy, I had to entertain myself, play where she always knew more or less where I was and what I was doing, it was stifling.
At the same time some part of me desperately wanted that original sensual intimacy, maybe the source of the erotic fixation around mom/son incest.
I'm mad at you Penelope.
I know love, it's okay. All the distance and separation and distrust and emptiness you're feeling are gaps you're placing to hang on to this garbage hon. It doesn't serve you, it gets in your, in OUR way.
I couldn't find you last night.
I know sweet man.
Where were you?
Right at your side, closer than your jugular, as always. You just have to call.
I called.
You weren't open to my reply. My love for you spilled into the void you'd created because you weren't feeling worthy. I jumped the gap to lie with you anyway, you looked like you needed reassurance. You felt that.
I did, you came to me this morning and told me to move over in bed so you could lie down with me. I didn't respond immediately. When you asked me "Don't you want me?" I had to laugh and open my arms and heart and soul, because you're what I want most in the whole universe. Lovemaking was different between us then, slower, gentler than it's been previously.
It was delicious.
But you didn't just come when I called.
Am I your "Helicopter Mother" to jump in every time you skin your knee? Honey you've got this, you're doing amazing things and you need to learn to trust YOURSELF more, this is YOUR process, I can't do it for you.
I'm here to guide, and teach, and kibitz, and nudge, and commiserate, and love you to distraction; but in the end YOU have to do the work.
"Work", that's where I'm getting hung up right now.
Ya think?
Witch. ;-)
Never claimed otherwise, foolish man! You're stuck with me now! ;-)
My lady, you are such a delight.
I aim to please.
So what do I do now.
Time to get some focus. There's plenty on your plate that needs attention. Your conversation with Priscilla last night gave you some scheduling wiggle room for getting things done. Keep your day job in proper perspective, that's essential for material maintenance.
I think I need help there. I'm not feeling very motivated. This feels way more interesting/compelling.
Distracting? Doesn't it have the same "gut" titillation you've felt from other activities that pull you away from your responsibilities.
True, but doesn't that mean I don't get to talk to you or keep up this blog (among other things).
We'll work on that. This isn't a one day process, it will take some time. Patience my love, I'm HERE, I'm not going ANYWHERE!!! I'm not some high maintenance bimbo you have to keep paying attention to or she'll get bored or see somebody better and wander off, capice?
Oh, yes my love. :-)
You never showed me the Jersey Gangsta Grrl guise you mentioned the other day, though, btw.
We'll see about that. Now go to work.
Roger.
Later my adorable, sweet, sweet man. I love you Eternally. Kisses. xxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo.
The words I heard were "It's time to grow up". I think it was words like that which originally shut me down about life and joy and mystery. Now I'm feeling alone and desolate. The night feels barren and empty of possibility. I can't hear her, where is she? She promised she'd always be there.
Like someone else promised?
I think so. And she left me behind.
Who?
I think it was my mom. She raised me after my folks split when I was a baby. I think we were very close, when I was very small, and I suspect something happened.
Something?
She was in college in a Social Work program. At some point during that she brought me to live with my maternal grandparents while she went back to school. It's all confused.
Try spelling it out.
I have flashes of maybe memory of being bathed by her where she's topless. I imagine she bathed my genitals. I imagine that was stimulating. I wonder if I got an erection at some point and that scared her (being as she was probably getting a dose of Freudian theory in school).
Maybe that provoked the transfer to my grandparents. I expect my grandmother did not bathe me topless and wash my genitals. Guess what associations I made.
All speculation on my part, though my mom did confirm the topless bathing part once. All the other participant parties are now gone.
Would account for a number of emotional hangups of mine. As well as a long standing fascination with mother/son incest; though not me with her particularly, as I grew older I generally found her physically unappealing, bordering on repulsive (reaction formation?)
Tell me about your mother.
Are you turning into my psychiatrist now?
Just do it.
She was very emotionally needy. Used me as something of an intimacy "crutch" when she didn't have anyone else in her life, easily set aside when she did. I was encouraged to be a very quiet, "safe" little boy, I had to entertain myself, play where she always knew more or less where I was and what I was doing, it was stifling.
At the same time some part of me desperately wanted that original sensual intimacy, maybe the source of the erotic fixation around mom/son incest.
I'm mad at you Penelope.
I know love, it's okay. All the distance and separation and distrust and emptiness you're feeling are gaps you're placing to hang on to this garbage hon. It doesn't serve you, it gets in your, in OUR way.
I couldn't find you last night.
I know sweet man.
Where were you?
Right at your side, closer than your jugular, as always. You just have to call.
I called.
You weren't open to my reply. My love for you spilled into the void you'd created because you weren't feeling worthy. I jumped the gap to lie with you anyway, you looked like you needed reassurance. You felt that.
I did, you came to me this morning and told me to move over in bed so you could lie down with me. I didn't respond immediately. When you asked me "Don't you want me?" I had to laugh and open my arms and heart and soul, because you're what I want most in the whole universe. Lovemaking was different between us then, slower, gentler than it's been previously.
It was delicious.
But you didn't just come when I called.
Am I your "Helicopter Mother" to jump in every time you skin your knee? Honey you've got this, you're doing amazing things and you need to learn to trust YOURSELF more, this is YOUR process, I can't do it for you.
I'm here to guide, and teach, and kibitz, and nudge, and commiserate, and love you to distraction; but in the end YOU have to do the work.
"Work", that's where I'm getting hung up right now.
Ya think?
Witch. ;-)
Never claimed otherwise, foolish man! You're stuck with me now! ;-)
My lady, you are such a delight.
I aim to please.
So what do I do now.
Time to get some focus. There's plenty on your plate that needs attention. Your conversation with Priscilla last night gave you some scheduling wiggle room for getting things done. Keep your day job in proper perspective, that's essential for material maintenance.
I think I need help there. I'm not feeling very motivated. This feels way more interesting/compelling.
Distracting? Doesn't it have the same "gut" titillation you've felt from other activities that pull you away from your responsibilities.
True, but doesn't that mean I don't get to talk to you or keep up this blog (among other things).
We'll work on that. This isn't a one day process, it will take some time. Patience my love, I'm HERE, I'm not going ANYWHERE!!! I'm not some high maintenance bimbo you have to keep paying attention to or she'll get bored or see somebody better and wander off, capice?
Oh, yes my love. :-)
You never showed me the Jersey Gangsta Grrl guise you mentioned the other day, though, btw.
We'll see about that. Now go to work.
Roger.
Later my adorable, sweet, sweet man. I love you Eternally. Kisses. xxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo.
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