Mom

My prayer for the current body of social interactions is that we will have an actual family at the end of it. So I pray, but God's Will be done. Both of my middle aged sons have spoken to me of wanting to have cousins after the Surname catered holidays end. I have not had the felt safe to wonder with my family members, but I have serious doubts that the Daughters of Delusion will continue catering the Holidays without a paycheck. I am not even close to willing to pay ANYONE to cater my family events. Not even Mister Surname's hired daughters.

I am in tremendous fear of continued dissociation this morning. I was unsuccessful in pulling out of it last night and this morning finds me agitated enough to give in to the reflex to call the head DoD, "Mom." I have done the "Therapy Homework" of imagining what Madam Mama could have been if she had had better luck in her life. Head DoD is the personification of one of those visualization exercises. Junior DoD could be the daughter my mother wanted me to be.

Detachment is the only therapy tool I have found to cope with the Surname family drama. Detachment from the in-law family drama has not required the continually fortified 1800 miles of barbed-wire physical distance I needed/need for my birth clan, but . . . I call my husband's parents Mister and Missus. I don't attend too many of their catered events. If the current trend continues, I may have to miss the Funeral Show, too. Hubs and I come a ways in being able to talk about it, but . . . It remains a touchy dialogue for us. The conversations are still fraught with emotional land mines capable of making mommys and daddys into single-image stereotypes. I can be most supportive of divorce papers on that slippery slope. My sons are aware, but they are sons, not therapists. This is far more complex than I feel comfortable covering with sons, even middle-aged ones.

My gratitude of the morning is that my grandchildren are due in later today. Children are an even better excuse than smoke breaks for detaching from Adult Drama. "Great laurels, Ma'am/Sir. I am properly impressed. I'll be back for another heapin' helpin' after I tend the baby."

Last night I added the rosary talisman to remind me to keep the prayers in progress. It dangles from my left wrist as I type. I wrapped it on extra tight so that it will not fall off in distracted moments.