Ok, so here's the thing. I'm a bad witch. Not bad as in evil, I'm a good witch in that regard. I'm just bad at being a witch.
I hate rituals. I don't really celebrate the seasons. (Well except that I love summertime).
I don't believe in magic. Ok, ok...let me explain. I believe in "magic" insofar as I believe that magic is simply unexplained science. I pin spells on pinterest. I read witchcraft books. I believe in the power of the mind. "Willing" something to be, the power of positive thinking, all that jazz. But. I believe there is a scientific explanation for everything.
I never really thought that's who I was. I *wanted* to believe in the magic of fairy tales. All my life. I practically lived in the occult section of the library in elementary, middle, and high school. Even into adulthood. My favorite tv shows and movies have always been supernatural in nature.
I'm a skeptical believer, if that makes any sense. I'm Mulder and Scully rolled into one.
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
My Mom
Most people love their mom. Not everyone knows who their mom really is. My journey began when I hit puberty. When I was twelve, there was this moment...this...point in time where I began to see my mom as a person, and not just as my mom. I won't go into details, but it involved a leotard. She will know what I mean. I suppose at the time it was a bad thing, because it made my teen years for her very difficult, like, ha ha, I know you're just a person like me. But in the long run, I think the end result has been a benefit to us both. My siblings will never understand the deep unabiding respect that I have for my mother, because I don't think they ever had that moment.
In my teens I read young adult stories about girls who time traveled back and met their moms as teens, and I wondered what that would be like, so I tried to learn as much as I could about what my mom was like as a teenager. We were pretty different. She was intellectual and athletic (gymnast, first female deckhand in Winchester Bay, read authors for enjoyment that I only knew as forced reading in my advanced English classes in high school), I was more creative and social. I don't know if we would have been friends if we were the same age at the same time. I think she would have intimidated me. Or maybe that's just me knowing now what an amazing person she is, I don't know.
When I was 26, I got married. Eloped in my living room, actually. It killed me that my mom wasn't there, but it was this spontaneous...thing...Needless to say, when she found out, her hurt was palatable. She tried to accept my husband, but he was not exactly helpful in that regard. We were married for ten years. During that time, she was our roommate for awhile, in a seven bedroom house we dubbed "The Manor". It was a huge house in NE Portland built in 1920. She butted heads with our younger roommates because they had a complete lack of respect for her. I was the bad guy because in most situations, I sided with my mom. Because, well, she was usually right. My ex-husband once accused me, "your mom can do no wrong in your eyes". Well, for the most part yes, because you guys were just...wrong. They didn't understand.
After that she lived with her younger sister, then with my younger sister. My sister was always trying to convince me that mom was going senile. But every time I talked to my mom, she seemed completely normal to me. After my marriage ended, I wound up living with my mom and my sister for a time, at my sisters house, with her, her husband, and two daughters, my nieces. any doubts I had about my mom vanished. My mom and my sister butted heads, sure, but my mom was not senile.
>>TO BE CONTINUED<<
In my teens I read young adult stories about girls who time traveled back and met their moms as teens, and I wondered what that would be like, so I tried to learn as much as I could about what my mom was like as a teenager. We were pretty different. She was intellectual and athletic (gymnast, first female deckhand in Winchester Bay, read authors for enjoyment that I only knew as forced reading in my advanced English classes in high school), I was more creative and social. I don't know if we would have been friends if we were the same age at the same time. I think she would have intimidated me. Or maybe that's just me knowing now what an amazing person she is, I don't know.
When I was 26, I got married. Eloped in my living room, actually. It killed me that my mom wasn't there, but it was this spontaneous...thing...Needless to say, when she found out, her hurt was palatable. She tried to accept my husband, but he was not exactly helpful in that regard. We were married for ten years. During that time, she was our roommate for awhile, in a seven bedroom house we dubbed "The Manor". It was a huge house in NE Portland built in 1920. She butted heads with our younger roommates because they had a complete lack of respect for her. I was the bad guy because in most situations, I sided with my mom. Because, well, she was usually right. My ex-husband once accused me, "your mom can do no wrong in your eyes". Well, for the most part yes, because you guys were just...wrong. They didn't understand.
After that she lived with her younger sister, then with my younger sister. My sister was always trying to convince me that mom was going senile. But every time I talked to my mom, she seemed completely normal to me. After my marriage ended, I wound up living with my mom and my sister for a time, at my sisters house, with her, her husband, and two daughters, my nieces. any doubts I had about my mom vanished. My mom and my sister butted heads, sure, but my mom was not senile.
>>TO BE CONTINUED<<
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