What a funny title. Old Tapes. I'm 60, so I know what I mean. I know the visual that the title brings up. Audio tapes. But today a young person would likely think of tape as in adhesive. At any rate, this morning for this 60 year old woman, my "old tapes" are playing in my head. I haven't posted here in more than a year. I realize it is because I have this internal critic that holds up a standard of what the post must be, how it must look and sound, the impact it must have on readers, blah, blah, blah. I allow it to paralyze me.
Not this morning. Fuck it. I woke up grateful to sit in the quiet and have a cup of my favorite bold coffee at my leisure. As I sat there enjoying the moment, I thought of my daughter. Actually I thought of my mothering. (Yes, it's all about me). I struggle, on a regular and consistent basis, with the belief that I suck as a mother. My mind reviews actions as a mother that I question and criticize over and over. It's ugly in there. Brutal. I don't know why I do this. I think my own mother probably did. Who knows. She is gone now and I cannot ask her. Sometimes that dysfunctional mind crap is passed on without even knowing, and this morning there it was ... waiting for me in the quiet.
I suppose it's no accident that when I opened this page of my blog (in which I almost never write), there was my last post. The topic? Mother's Day. (Sigh!) My intention is not to work anything out on here or post my grand pearls of wisdom and discovery. My goal was simply to post even in the midst of the Inner Critic's voice. To type out my thoughts like a journal entry without questioning.
So, there you have it.
Time for another cup of coffee.
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