From Heartbreak, Mourning, Loss. Volume One, Detach or Die
I had no ego, no self, no identity.
I did not have a definition of myself. Like my mother and grandmother, always chose the piece of meat that was overcooked, leaving the best for the others, although I was the one cooking all those gourmet meals; I tolerated my kids talking on their cell phones while eating my gourmet dinners, treating me like a waitress.
I was the kind of woman who jumped up to do the dishes while still chewing on my last bite of food, hopping on the next task. I believed that a husband’s sexual attitude of Wham, Bam, Thank you Ma’am was natural.
My fundamental attitude was always to save the day! I had no revolt as if I had been born to please. The slave complex! I thought I was the perfect victim until I looked beneath and found the huge power trip behind my victim’s posturing.
Serving their needs gave me control. I wanted control, as opposed to love, because I was at the lowest rung of human achievement: survival. I didn’t have a self, how could I have a sensual self? I never felt love, not even for my children, and never saw the beauty in the world. I just survived.
After heartbreak and a suicide attempt, I started to become a real person. It is the most interesting adventure of my life.
