no where to hide

I have no where to hide now.

Music is the saving grace as it always was.

When I was a young girl my mother was unkind and unjust and I was often so furious at the injustices she doled out.

When I was up North during the summers I was there alone with my mother much of the time and she made me into her Cinderella, doing chores much of the day. Poor me. Well, yeah, for me it was poor me. Write your own story if you don't like mine.

There were no other kids like me up there. There were local rural kids who were rough and tumble and there were vacationing squeamish city kids who only came for a week or two at a time. I was often left to my own devices and because I was lonely, bored, and often angry I found my guitar that my grandmother had given me probably just by happenstance to be my best tool. I learned songs that other songwriters had written about being frustrated or lonely. Then I tried to write my own songs about being frustrated or lonely. Many of my songs too were about appreciating Nature or my idea of God.

My mother held all the money and she ruled over the kitchen so I could never have as much of anything as I would have liked.

If I tried to pour a second glass of lemonade she would say I was wasting it and should just have a glass of water. If I tried to eat a second one of the delicious cookies she often baked she would say I was going to get fat. 

I couldn't drown my sorrows on food or drink because she wouldn't let me.

My kids used to say a funny thing to me if they wanted to eat a big bowl of ice cream or a handful of Oreo cookies, they'd say to me , "Mom, just let me, I'm eating my feelings." Haha. So sophisticated in their awarenesses compared to how I was. I didn't have anything thought through, I just tried to survive.

When I learned that drinking wine and beer and margaritas felt fun and wild...at the age of forty-two....I found a new way to avoid sorrow, avoid frustration, avoid responsibility.

I really am not down on alcohol at all. I love the delight of a cold glass of Prosecco on an Italian terrazza as much as the next girl.

I'm just saying that, since I was little I couldn't really be a binge eater or a binge drinker, and I had few ways to escape as a child.

And what I'm trying to say now is that I am realizing that a guitar and a notebook are again my very best escape.

And I'm also saying that indulgences of food and drink have always appealed to me because my mother so closely monitored my behavior that I was left with a feeling, going into adulthood, that I could never have enough.

This feeling haunted me, troubled me, brought trouble to my life.

I think I'm finally healing that tortured feeling of never enough.

"You can look at the menu but you just can't eat..." that's an old Howard Jones song about cheating on your lover, but it applies to this general feeling and it's aptly titled "No One Is To Blame" although in my case I'm blaming my mom which isn't very nice but it's true. 

Comments

Petra Schmidt July 19, 2018 @07:02 am
Music saved your life Courtney! And you survived! Taking a guitar is a good choice. But a notebook? How does this work? Like a diary? Meeting people in real and talking to them face to face is much better. Than you will get a good conversation.
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