Brain took me back to memories of my only real angry outburst towards my mother. I had pushed her into telling me she either hated, or loved me. I kept saying, 'Say it.'

It was agonizing to get no answer. Mum ended up walking towards me with arms outstretched, and saying 'Come Here Muff.' I couldn’t cope with that scene, or the thought of her touching me. I ran. I guess I didn’t want her to defuse my anger with what I perceived as an act on her behalf to settle it. I sensed her actions were false. Why did she wait thirty years, and still not answer my question? I was repulsed by her actions. That truth threatened too much rage in me. I kept us both safe by leaving.

Brain told me to take that scene further. I am guessing, mum would put on the act of love, and say the word. I suppose we would sit down together and have a cuppa then.

I thought, what if I put my hand out for mum to take it?

What if I said, 'Mum, I love you.' Would she take my hand? How would she feel?

I know how she would have felt. I know why she couldn’t take my love. I know how threatening that would be to her. She had too much anger in store to feel love.

She would have felt like a caged animal backing into a corner, unable to cope with her own truth of not ever being loved.

She would fear my rejection or acceptance; her own anger. She would have to run to survive her own anger. That anger threatened her very existence. It was anger toward her mother for not loving her. Repressed anger. Each time she asked for love, she never got it.

Then three kids came along and demanded it from her. She was never safe from those demands. She needed to deny them and us. We didnt exist emotionally to her. That is why I 'disappeared' from her and the world. It was safe to not exist emotionally; not to feel love.

My mother needed us to emotionally depend on her. She may have thought that was love, but it was co dependence. A hostile dependence. Love had nothing to do with any of us.

Knowing is not feeling it. To fully understand, it must be felt first.



Last night I dreamt about my two 'cats'. I had great difficulty in trying to cage them. I needed to so I could euthanize them both. Finally, they were where I wanted them. I had no emotion in making them disappear. What needed to be done was about to happen.

The difference between my two cats and my parents is, I love my cats, and they love me. How easy that love is to give and receive it. It does feel natural, and sacred.

I do not feel that feeling towards any person, including myself.