The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Hell Hath No Fury written @ 8:48 PM on February 16, 2004 Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement to make: apparently, I'm a witch, I'm going to hell, and I'm a worthless unrealistic human being who never worked for anything in her entire life. A typical diatribe of self-pity in this diary? Negatory. So says my friend Jessica's mom, as a matter of fact. *sigh* Ah, the drama... The story begins as follows: About two Thursdays ago, I came back to the dorm after working in the studio all night and learned from my roommate that my mother had called and it was somewhat urgent. I called home and asked her what was up... Evidentally, a lot. Not only had my cousin's new wife been diagnosed with life-threatening breast cancer, trouble had struck Jessica's house in our hometown. Her mom, a strict hell-fearing Catholic, had discovered her Tarot cards, her collection of herbs and candles, books of the esoteric nature, and print-outs of AIM conversations that we had about past lives and horoscopes and the such. In a panic that Jessica was part of some outside cult, her mother called my mother demanding an explanation to see if there was anything she knew. The only thing my mother knew for sure was that a bunch of my friends and I would sit around the kitchen table and decipher each other's readings from Christine's Tarot deck. In an effort to calm Jessica's mom, my mother assured her that "it was nothing serious," that "it was only light experimentation" of a playful nature, that Jessica was undoubtably NOT a part of an outside cult, and that we weren't doing anything wrong as far as she could tell. "Was Jessica a part of an outside cult?" my mom asked. "No!" I exclaimed. Jessica and I may have liberal viewpoints about the ways of the spiritual world, but we are fool-hardy Catholics through and through. As my mom recounted her conversation with Jessica's mother, my mind was whirling and I felt like I was about to dive head first into a nightmare. In fact, I was. Mom added that her parents were going to confront her about this as soon as she got home. I figured I would hear from Jessica by later that night or the next morning. But the week went on, and in an effort to humor myself I thought, Oh dear, her parents must have crucified her.... I kept drumming my fingers waiting to hear from her, but I wouldn't call her: my mom made me promise that I wouldn't talk to Jessica about it unless she brought it up. Finally this past Sunday when I was home, I called her and asked lightly how she was doing. It wasn't long before she asked, "So did your mom talk to my mom?" "Yeah," I said uneasily. "So... what happened?" Well, her parents may as well have nailed her to a tree. But-- lucky me-- I became the scapegoat. Her mother accused me of being a witch and said that I had earned myself a one-way ticket to hell. She said I was a terrible influence, that I was an unrealistic, dreamy person who was destined to end up on the streets because I'm an artist and won't be able to earn a living. I was once told that she thinks I haven't worked for anything in my entire life, that I haven't earned anything in my entire life, that everything I have was given to me. In short, that I'm a worthless human being. Of my mother, she called her a "bad Catholic" and probably on the way to hell with Jessica and me, that she is just as much to blame as us because she let us read her palm and her troubles in the Tarot. She is outraged that my parents "divorced"-- that even though they are only separated they may as well be divorced-- and that the divorced/separated/marital problems church group that she goes to is evil. She thinks the group is for those who celebrate their failures in marriage and laugh at their ex-spouses-- that my mother is a failure as a person because she could not hold her marriage together. *** I can take insult to my person. Jessica's mom may be right. I may be a miserable failure for an artist and destined to end up on the streets. But when she started slighting my mother-- my mother who sacrificed so much and tried so hard to keep my dad from walking out the door-- she opened up some fresh wounds and planted the seeds to this black fury that blinds me the more I think about it. Her mom is wrong on so many levels. I never professed to be a witch. I can read some Tarot, I can feel energy in stones and sense spirits. They are just cards! They are just rocks! Spirits and angels are everywhere if you care to listen! Tell me these things God has created are evil. Tell me that I am going to hell because I can't help but sense things as they truly are. It is just knowledge! How dare she not even sense one iota of what I do, what I sacrifice? How dare she suppose that the scholarship I earned was just money the university did not need, handed to me like spare change to a beggar? How dare she assume that my artwork is an easy path? How dare she criticize me because I chose a profession in which I'll be poor but happy? How dare she judge me when the Lord said not to judge? Do I fucking need to slit my wrists and let my blood drip on her front porch before she'll get a clue that nothing was ever simply "handed" to me, that I worked for every goddamned thing I have in my life? Does she know that a teacher once told me I would never be anything in life except a housewife, that I probably wouldn't even go to college? In spite of everything she will never know, I flatout refuse to lower myself to her level and attempt to prove anything to her. I don't fucking need to prove anything to anyone except myself. But she had no right-- NO RIGHT-- to fucking drag my mother into this! Blame me if you will, but leave my mother out of this because everything I ever done has been my conscious choice on my terms. She doesn't know the blood, sweat, tears my mother sacrificed to raise this family and save her marriage. She doesn't know about the counselling bills, the psychiatrists, the support groups, the prayers, the screaming, the crying, the sheer unhappiness and misery my mother endured-- endured in spite of it all-- and has emerged one of the spiritually strongest people I know. "Religion is for those who believe in hell. Spirituality is for those who lived through hell." If I could face her mom right now, I would tell her all these things. I would tell her never to judge my mother or me. She doesn't know either of us. I am so furious right now that I can hardly type. I feel like screaming and throwing things. I feel like crying because my mother, who only tried to help and reason, is a victim in all this. I didn't tell her half of what Jessica's mom said about her for fear of hurting her. Besides that, this is my battle. This I will resolved. Never has my character been assaulted quite like this, and while I am tempted to turn the other cheek, I fear I will not find rest until I at least speak to Jessica's mother. Civily, of course, and without anger or malice. I will just tell her straight-up the truth-- and she can choose to believe it or not. On the other hand, if I do, Jessica will suffer the consequences of my actions. Because I will have repeated things that only she could have heard and related to me. I'm hoping my anger will pass, but I've been troubled the past two days. I wasn't angry at first because I don't give a damn what anyone thinks, but the more I thought about it, the more I weighed the insults and the lies, the more I felt myself spinning out of control, not to mention the sharp rise in blood pressure. I don't know what to do. Guys, please tell me what to do. I feel like I have to do something, but I don't want to do anything stupid. Please tell me.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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