Saint Clare intervenes to save a child from a wolf. Giovanni di Paolo, 1455
But I do love a botanica. I just found another one in Long Beach, hidden on a side street but filled with a million delights. Shelves that nearly reached the ceiling were stocked with perfumes, oils, cleaning sprays, amulets, religious figurines, herbs, and candles.
I grabbed a bottle of Arazza Todo oil for a friend, and a pretty teenager with blood red hair asked if I needed help. YES, I told her, and asked in a cheery voice: “What do you have if your kid hates you?”
She led me to a candle labeled Santa Clara, and said mothers used it to pray for the well-being of their children. She added that the shop’s owner sometimes turns on three candles at once, arranged around a bowl of water. I love the idea of turning on a candle! I might have to go back there to buy a “Court” candle that you turn on if you’re in legal trouble. My kid who hates me has threatened a restraining order against me because I can’t stop sending him email.
[Note to you kids who hate mommy on Reddit: fuck off. This isn’t about you.]
Now that I’m home, I’ve turned on my candle and burned a stick of palo santo to cleanse my house of bad vibes. I can’t actually pray, because duh, atheist, but I can speak to the candle in a tone of respect, like I speak to clothes hangers or things I trip over.
It occurs to me that my reactions to my kid breaking up with me are similar to symptoms of PTSD: Irritability, hostility, fear, rumination, insomnia and nightmares. It is traumatic, after all. One minute it’s Where’s the clean towels? and the next minute, Please leave me and my family alone.
In my most morbid moments, I wonder if I’ll get to hold my child again before I die, maybe because of all the biopsies. In calmer moments, I figure that none of this matters. Life is but a dream. You’re here, stuff happens, and then you’re gone, poof. Why agonize about anything?
I still have the Arroz Todo oil you gave me. It’s on the windowsill in my front room and turned outward for everyone to see along with a stuffed animal I’m pickling and dismembered doll parts and skewers and a jelly jar full of dryer lint. The jelly jar has a handle on it and when I bought it the lady at the register exclaimed that they were great for drinking out of. Fuck that noise; dryer lint!
Rice Everything!
Love you, thinking of you, this will pass. Can you go away for a weekend or such just to get a change in scenery? And please read We Need You To Stay. It was written by a very wise person xoxo
Romeo – I wish you were here.
Mary – Thank you!!!!! Your comment brought me back to earth. I like the idea of a change in scenery. Great idea. xo
I can come out for a visit, but not until after winter. There’s already snow on the mountain peaks and I’m all stocked up for hibernation.
Took down the dismembered doll parts. It seemed to cartoonish, too aggressively “no molestar.” Genuinely fearful of inspiring vigilante justice. Will write out the worst-case scenario demon hellride* that my brain keeps forcing me to take.
*RIP Wesley Willis
If your son is willing to get a restraining order against you you must have seriously broken him. Every child wants a good relationship with their parents. I’m sure that his suicide attempt that you’ve somehow made about yourself was influenced by you. PTSD, depression, whatever it is you’ve been diagnosed with, it should not make your child hate you. My mother has PTSD, depression and panic disorder, and she makes it VERY well known that all 4 of her children are loved. She gets the help that she needs by talking about her problems to a professional, and her professional helps her communicate properly with her children. Here’s to hoping you get professional help and actually listen to your psychologist/psychiatrist and that you aren’t just taking prescriptions.
Alyssa – First, you know nothing about my children. Don’t project your own issues with your mother on to me. I haven’t broken anyone. An autistic 16 year old just shot his whole family last week. You have no fucking idea what goes on in homes other than your own. And you have no idea how much my children are loved. Thanks anyway.