24th April 2012 Thinking Of Love ...

Thinking ... and remembering. My mother used to say, when I had been naughtier than normal, behaving badly or did something for me was fun but to her was terrible: 'I punish you severely only because I love you very much'. That too to her was reasonable and real, because I remember once, when I was absent from home overnight without asking or telling her first, she spanked me so hard while river of tears ran down her face, and sobbing.

Being young, innocent (I thought), ignorant (I later learned) I used to think, and pray: 'If only Mama loved me a little less ...! How much more fun my life would be'. I never imagine I could be so very miserable when she couldn't love me any more. Nor could I understand why, so many years later, I still think of that one single episode when I made her so angry and frustrated, to punish me so hard that it obviously hurt her far more than me; she cried then while doing so, I didn't when receiving it. What I felt at the time was anger too, now not sure whether it's at her or at myself; a bit of both I guess. I never forgot that. And I had never done the same thing since, not while she was still alive.

 

That very mixed up feeling occurs to me not just today, but often, and with nothing in particular that's remotely connected with that part of the past, and almost always with deep regret. I loved her dearly then, more so now, yet I could hurt her so without any pain on my part at the time. Don't they say people often hurt those they love most?

Don't ever use that as an excuse. You would hurt yourself real bad later, even decades later. At least I did, and am still hurting. 

 

Tags: motherlove

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