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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 9 of 9. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Jai Narayan on September 12, 2004, at 23:13:31
I remember being a little girl in the bath tub, I would gaze into the reflection of the curve in the clawfoot tub. I would wish I could be in that world. The world where I could be safe. Where I could be me. Where I could be free. I remember seeing the reflection of my mothers face. She would look stern as she demanded that I stand up. She would rub my little legs till they were red. She had the hardest hands in the world. She hated me. She wanted to punish me. She was mad that I was alive.
My god.
I was so little.
So defenseless. what was this little girl to her?
I just wanted to survive her hurt.
She was so big.
She wanted to hurt me.
I really couldn't understand that.
I remember trying to breathe...
simply breathe.
Posted by vwoolf on September 13, 2004, at 11:00:56
In reply to being my mothers child...I remember...., posted by Jai Narayan on September 12, 2004, at 23:13:31
God, Jai, this is so painful. Those tiny details that become so important - the foot of the bathtub - simply breathing. The smallest and most essential things are all that you were able to hang onto. Just surviving the anger and dislike of your mother must have taken an enormous will to live, although you must have felt you were dying so often.
It seems impossible that we have come through these childhoods intact in some strange way. Not physically maybe, and not emotionally, but I am beginning to feel there is a kind of core me that has never been violated. But I am only just discovering it.
Bestest - VW
Posted by Atticus on September 13, 2004, at 18:08:10
In reply to being my mothers child...I remember...., posted by Jai Narayan on September 12, 2004, at 23:13:31
This is a very powerful piece. I can identify with the sensation of wanting to be in the world of reflections so well, especially during my father's explosive manic rages, when he stomped around the house just looking for someone to meet his gaze so he could pick a fight. I'd push against the mirror on my child-sized dresser with my fingertips, hoping that the surface would ripple like water and I would somehow be able to climb through to Alice's world, not leaving a trace behind. Atticus
Posted by malthus on September 13, 2004, at 19:08:02
In reply to being my mothers child...I remember...., posted by Jai Narayan on September 12, 2004, at 23:13:31
Hi Jai:
I think this poem is so poignant because you discuss a universal theme of a child wanting a parent's (whom we adore) unconditional love. What is striking is the way you put your child's voice next to your adult's voice with the words "My God" in between the two voices, pleading to a higher power to explain why this happened to you. I have heard the expression "parents do the best they know how to at the time". I have had to struggle with saying this line over and over and over again with forgiving my parents for the things they did (or didn't do) to me as a child, a teenager and an adult (mostly caused by their bitter marriage, divorce and tunnel vision in their pursuit of success in the corporate world.) I'm not sure I completely buy the above concept because we think we would never have done these things to our own children. If you don't mind me asking, has your mother passed away? Have you ever read "The Secret Life of Bees". It deals with what you are feeling. I hope you feel better.
malthus
Posted by Jai Narayan on September 13, 2004, at 19:47:56
In reply to Re: being my mothers child...I remember...., posted by vwoolf on September 13, 2004, at 11:00:56
thank you that is so kind. Kindness is a blessing. I love being the recipient of such kindness. It makes me feel good.
I am thinking about you tonight.
Jai
Posted by Jai Narayan on September 13, 2004, at 19:58:21
In reply to Re: being my mothers child...I remember.... » Jai Narayan, posted by Atticus on September 13, 2004, at 18:08:10
Oh my sweet Atticus.
I am so sorry we both have had the desire to leave this world for the mirror.
I read your reply out loud to my partner and he said, "Wow that guy speaks your language!"
You do we have a shared language.
Alice was my favorite childhood book.
I saw everything backwards.
Mirror.
this was discovered when I signed my name backwards.
I was in the mirror.
the whole world was backwards in my mind.I hate that your father was such a rage-aholic.
I hate that my dear friend had to have that kind of pain in his life.
Hate is a strong word.
but that is what this kind of oppression brings out in me.
We, who were abused, need to be loved.
Need to be held.
Need to have a safe place to let it all down.
Relax.
What a gift.
Relax.
It makes me feel good to write that word.
Oh Atticus you sweet man.....
I care for you very much.
Your Jai
Posted by Jai Narayan on September 13, 2004, at 20:02:35
In reply to Re: being my mothers child...I remember.... » Jai Narayan, posted by malthus on September 13, 2004, at 19:08:02
You sweetie, thank you so much. I loved that book. It is one of my favorites.
I am so sorry our lives are so hard. Sorry that we have to recover from, rather than just, be. I would love to have had a life where I was totally loved and got bored with all the love and affection. what a gass! The Buddha had such a life...oh goodness.
I am thankful for our connection. I had no idea how much I appreciated you. thank you.
Your Jai
Posted by vwoolf on September 14, 2004, at 10:34:31
In reply to Re: being my mothers child...I remember.... » Jai Narayan, posted by Atticus on September 13, 2004, at 18:08:10
This gives another layer to so many of your extraordinary poems - thanks for sharing it here. I know that feeling of total terror, of needing to go through the mirror to another world, when the world seems to go crazy on this side.
Posted by vwoolf on September 14, 2004, at 10:36:06
In reply to Re: being my mothers child...I remember.... » Jai Narayan, posted by Atticus on September 13, 2004, at 18:08:10
mirror for most of my life.
This is the end of the thread.
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