I am staying in Montreal with my mother, the ironically named Honey, temporarily until my tiny but perfect apartment becomes available on November 1st.
I believe I am here with Honey for a reason, the reason being my need to feel my deep grief that this mother, is actually my mother, and that nothing I can do will ever change that, or change her.
I started self medicating with food at fourteen, so I wouldn’t have to feel my anger and moving down deeper, my grief that Honey was incapable of tenderness, something so intrinsically longed for that I felt only partially real, my hunger for her love transferred to food, my hope that food would sate my bottomless pit of longing for my mother’s love.
I have stopped harming myself with food, thanks to years of therapy and my promise to myself, made four months and thirteen days ago, to never harm myself with food again.
And now, through a series of unfortunate events, I find myself here, on Honey’s couch. When I first arrived I was so hurt that Honey did not welcome me into her home with tea and sympathy or even a drawer ( shades of Lorraine, my ex partner here) that I complained mightily to her, because again, this was what I knew to do with my mother. It felt familiar and familial and safe.
Not so safe for my arrhythmic heart however. I had to make myself calm myself down by telling myself over and over again that I did not want to die yelling at my mother for not creating a safe space for me. So I made myself take a deep calming breath and then another, and then another.
I so want to be free to love, and I will always be chained to my mother’s entrails unless I release her and allow her to just be Honey, and allow myself to be silent and feel the emotions I had never felt safe enough to feel, but now know I am ready to feel. I am determined to become the observer, not the absorber.
I am very impressed with myself because this deposed Princess has not willingly ever slept on a couch before, but necessity is the mother of invention and I am grateful for this mother – fucking couch, because if not for Honey’s couch, I would have nowhere to stay for the next month.
Now this isn’t my first foray of couch surfing. I started back on my Uncle Jeffrey’s couch in Toronto earlier this month. While there we had a discussion about values and he told me though most people place love on the top of their value list, he places respect first. I thought about what I valued first and foremost and found that loyalty resonates the strongest for me.
Now back in Montreal little Lucille could sleep with Honey in her king size bed, but chooses to sleep on the adjacent couch next to mine.
Self Help on Huffington Post