14-06-2003

‘The tangled we weave, when we practice to deceive’… Credo of the day. A tone set by neither myself nor the girlfriend, rather her mother, the darling, in her illu­striously delirous mind rambling away to her only daughter how she should not try and believe in herself and her capabilities, as this would surely upset said mother’s grand illusion of a perfect family setting. Have I said this before, I believe so, though let me hasten to repeat; what a fucking bitch! I, who knows a great number of ways to step aside the direct way of issuing statements, in order to avoid the use of the above exclamation mark, hasten not to use it again, yet in this matter my hand is forced; what a fucking bitch! Beyond her conversation with her mother on the phone, I found myself the comforter of a sad soul, who had just had to bear the brunt of a vast number of troubled scenarious put forth by someone who would normally be the closest ally; a parent. Not so in this case; and the call she put in to tell the news of her quitting the job she’s hated for half a year and the profession she’s loathed for three, brought all of the worst sides out in that unfair, unsupporting mother of her’s. God dammit, as much as I hasten to spit out derogatory adjectives in her mother’s general direction, as swift will I be in applauding her decision and supporting her in every way possible. This was not an easy feat, I know, and I’m so damn proud of her that I’m ready to burst. Will credit myself for some two or three percent of the decision to quit her job, then for zero percent for having the guts to stand up and tell all the world about it. Was I concerned I would not receive from those paid therapy-sessions what I donated in the form of money, well then having her go and see a gallery and have one of her works displayed, having the guts to quit her job, not the speak less of the courage to inform her family about it, here’s amble reason to forego that concern. In hindsight it even seems quite ridiculous, but who would’ve thought she’d break through so quickly? Part of the truth, of course, is that it’s something she’s been in need of so long, and now that the general sentiment – the sessions and the coaxing of yours truly, I’d like to think – has pointed her in the right direction she’s jumped at the chance. Make no mistake, there will be many more battles to be fought, but from hence onwards they will be repetitions of a theme, and if she sticks to her guns, her free will, i.e., she’ll emerge victorious in all of them. Scarred, yes, but in one piece, independant and ready to experience life in full. No mental blockades. Am just so very proud of her, will repeat it out loud again and again until she’s sick and tired of hearing it, then perhaps mention it once and every often again. Whatever may come will come, now the groundwork is put in place, and with every beat of her heart hence onwards she liberates herself, her spirit, her selfesteem and selfassurance, further. As it was meant to be. ~~~ Tomorrow Sunday. Am hoping for a quiet day.

Advertisements