Herself: Scanned. Not all came out right. Haven’t heard from any of the poets this week. I called and emailed. This morning, I’ll swim and see what’s happening. Still hot here tho cooling down.
Frightening: The State of California has cut 100% of the funding for Domestic Violence shelters today.
Reading: Comfort food: One of the Harper of Pern series.
Balance: Chocolate brownies while G was watching a frighteningly violent movie. I don’t need to do this again.
I don’t do well with anger in any form. I don’t do well with violence. My parents “spanked” me, first with a hairbrush then with a bread board in the age of crinolines and layered skirts. As an adult, I condoned the beatings that my eldest daughter received from her father using a piece of rosewood
I remember little of my childhood…tho I remember visits to my grandma’s apartment, Christmases, and one vacation. I remember little of my world today. This is one of the factor’s that prompted me to begin journaling in the early seventies. I remember much more of my life since I began writing and drawing about it.
My daughter is the product of some particularly ugly domestic violence as a child and as an adult. My daughter has followed patterns learned at home of looking for love and approval through sex. As she confronts her past and future, I’m forced to look at my own past, patterns and responsibilities…again….and again.
Cleaning up my own side of the street seems a continual thing. I’m just grateful none of us is perfect as I start a fresh look into my childhood…again.