… well now that I grabbed your attention, turn back fast or you’ll be sorely disappointed. The treat is for me getting some ferocious thoughts out of my head. This post will likely make no sense. There could be a snippet or two of clarity in the fog but basically this is me like a cotton headed ninny muggin. Truth be told the movie Elf annoys the ever loving crap out of me but then I did cry at the end. Sap that I am.
Okay, so here’s the deal. I am not my mother. Nope, she is she and I am me. I do not have to repeat her path. Genetics might tell me otherwise but genetics are also a wildcard. Example, one has a 1 in 4 chance to inherit whatever trait. Predisposition is not a guarantee. Only 25% likely, or 10% or 80%. Wildcard you see! I need to remember that! I’ve been in the insurance game my whole life. We deal in probabilities and statistics. What is the likelihood of X occurring and all that jazz.
The most comforting response came from Twitter where despite what one may think is not all that bad when you pick what you follow. I am out there anonymous baring my soul. A kind stranger wrote in reply to my angst: In your specific case, I would say that your mother’s experiences are separated from yours by time and experience. They aren’t a given. Was all it took one stranger to change my mind?
Well no. He corroborates what I know to be true. Years of patterns and statistics. Could this mean I escaped? Maybe? But what about my Lulu? I have subtly hinted at her issues, which are all resolved in this moment, yet always ready to rear their ugly heads again one day. Samesie for her right? Not a given. We can fight, fight, fight against biology. You rat bastard!!!!! Even if the effort is futile.
Segway to Charge of the Light Brigade. “Half a league, half a league, half a league onward,” I love that poem! Tennyson speaks to me. Yep, the queen comma drama has made her appearance with us today.
Okay, enough steam was let loose. I’m better. For now. Might pop off again later. Feels good folks to finally let the dam break and the chips fall where they may. RIP momma, you did the best you could.
As always, more to come.