Mental & Emotional Health

I’ve given you lots of information on me.  And, depending on who is reading, I may have given you way more information than necessary.  But since today is my birthday, and I have one official hour left, I’m on CST, I’m going to give you something Mental and Emotional to think about.

My parents were as different as night and day.  My mother a religious zealot (and I do not mean that disrespectfully in any way) and my father a complete liberal.  My mother was a scream at you, make you feel guilty by not speaking to you and grab the belt and spank you out of anger kind of parent.  Needless to say, I’ve kept a lot from her over the years. 

My mom played the guilt card because I hurt her.  In one of her marriages, which was actually a man she married 3 times, they lived in the same house, slept in the same bed, watch the same TV and ate the same meals, yet my mother didn’t speak to him for 6 weeks.  Do you realize how hard it would be do such a thing?  I couldn’t do it, but she did.  And, she would treat me the same way.  She would just quit speaking to me if I made her mad or even if I simply didn’t do what she wanted, not what she asked or expected but what she wanted.  She has done it to me as an adult as well.  As recently as about 16 months ago, she got angry with me, left my house screaming and crying and didn’t call me for 3 days.  I did call her a couple of times but she didn’t answer.  So, that’s my mom in a nutshell.  Don’t get me wrong, I love her dearly, but that is just how she is.

My father was a politician.  He played the guilt card on occasion but he played in reference to me disappointing him and how he had high expectations for me.  He taught high school and did for most of his career.  He simply had a better understanding of child development as well as how to deal with teenagers.  There wasn’t much that I was afraid to tell him.  Although I know if he were here now, he would have gone through periods where he would be very concerned for me, but I don’t remember anything that has happened in the last 20 years that he would have dealt me emotional or mental blows. 

Now, that’s not to say that my mom was wrong and my dad was right.  You know it simply doesn’t work that way.  But, the reason I started this story was to tell you that I got a tattoo today.  If my father were alive, I would have talked to him about it prior to coming to the beach or even prior to getting a tattoo to celebrate my 40th birthday.  My mom?  I still haven’t told her and I won’t until I am home and can show it to her. 

My father would have just given me the information I needed to pick a clean, well-established parlor.  My mom may decide that she is no longer going to help me with my children during the week or that she is not taking them to church with her the next day and she may very well not speak to me for a few days. 

But, the trick is, she might look at it and go, "oh my, why did you do that?’ and never mention it again.  And, she could just act like nothing is different, ask me questions about it and be done with it.

Now, as you can see, this absolutely ties into the way in which I was raised.  It directly shows you how my mother and father created my personality.  My mother causing the anxiety, my father trying to teach me and help me learn.  It isn’t all my mother’s fault that I was anxious and depressed as a child.  I can’t lay full blame on her.  But, I can say that in no way did she ever act as if she recognized my problems.

Even now, there are times when she questions why I take anti-depressants.  Why can’t I just go to church, be holy, know God and not need medication?  In so many ways, I am distinctly like my father.  They divorced when I was 4 and spent many years after that arguing. 

I love my mother.  I respect my mother.  She is simply different than me.  I will keep you updated on the emotional side of how this all plays out when my mom finds out that I chose a tattoo to celebrate turning 40.  And, without any more silly chatter, I give you a photo of my shoulder…this tattoo is brand new, less than a couple of hours old so it is still somewhat puffy…don’t be alarmed, it is going to be beautiful when it heals. 

Oh and the pain I expected to feel, it was almost pleasant in a sick kind of way.  I read a book and sent text messages back in forth with several people with my free hand to keep my mind off of it. I tried to send a book with my husband who has a fear of needles.  But, he wouldn’t take it, I would love to be a fly on the wall while he is sitting there being jabbed with a needle and ink.  His tattoo is an American Bald Eagle that has red, white and blue stripes on him.  Naturally, I’ll get you that photo as well tomorrow.