Happy Birthday to my youngest child. I’ve loved every minute of parenting even through some of the tough times but what stands out more than anything are the wonderful memories. From the time Whitney was born she had a smile on her face and was always looking for something exciting to do even though her adventurous spirit has given me many sleepless nights. One of the first things you learn about Whitney is she has such a positive energy surrounding her that you can’t help but feel it when you’re with her. If more people had Whitney’s attitude about life, we would have peace and joy in our world! Happy Birthday Whit! We all love you! ❤️
My mouth hurts. Injured gums, most likely – a product of overzealous brushing. I try to clamp down on my anxieties with excessive cleaning. I try to dam the panic, as it goes bubbling along every vein, with a mountain of distractions. Scrub, scrub, scrub. Everything in inordinate amounts. I consider every surface, frown at missed spots, water spots, spots that show how out of control my immediate environment is. How quickly nature rushes in to reclaim everything with specks of dust. I yearn for control, for spotlessness; I exhaust myself. One morning, fretting thus, I’m reminded again: I’m turning into my mother.
Later, I call her to tell her that. I expect her to laugh.
She sighs instead. “We do share migraines too,” she says.
And an irrepressible victim complex, I add silently. We cry easily. When we’re hurt, we lash out, we singe anyone who has the misfortune of being around us. When I was little, it was me. I think more and more about this shared pool of genes, hurt and abuse. I picture a strand of white-hot anger, shimmery and strong, crossing the length of the umbilical cord into me. This will protect you, I imagine her saying. The world is a bad, bad place. The sum of my inheritances: an eye for the arts, some property, a curse.
I’d give an arm to be bequeathed my father’s analytical, mathematical, fair mind. His clarity of thought, his quiet, dignified intelligence. Instead, I have a fascination for the morbid, a fondness for biology and the languages, unresolved grief and a tendency to live inside my head. This isn’t a complaint. It’s just how it is. If I weren’t so wound up lately, I’d have chuckled at the odds of this happening.
Use Somebody - Kings Of Leon