Atreus In the Kitchen

Turns out the Mississippi state legislator who proposed the “Contraception Begins at Erection Act” is not some elephantine Holy Roller but one of Mississippi’s rare Black lawmakers, a suave young lawyer, who probably meant it as a parody. So, you know, whew.

###

I did a lot of errands yesterday. And Remunerated. And made it to the gym.

I also finished reading Hidden Valley Road, which is exceptionally well-written and not nearly as sensationalistic as the TV series but still leaves one with the feeling that one is looking at things that would best be left wriggling under a rock.

Schizophrenia or no schizophrenia, what these children endured was horrific, and those parents were just horrible, particularly the mother. I cannot imagine keeping the affected children in the same cramped house as the healthy children. Yes, I know—the family had no money, and the mother was trying to keep the schizophrenic sons out of the state psychiatric hospital, a veritable Marat/Sade stage set. It was a Sophie’s Choice situation: Which children’s needs do you prioritize?

This is where the concept of triage comes in. When resources are limited, you prioritize the needs of those who are most likely to benefit from the application of those resources. The non-affected children, in other words.

Interesting factoid: Michael Galvin, the fifth son, one of the non- schizophrenic brothers, rebelled against his upbringing, immersed himself in the counterculture, and ended up on Stephen Gaskin’s Farm. Happens, I know a lot of people who spent time on the Farm—Tex C_____ and Cliff F______ and Dee—hello, Dee! If you still read my online diary!—so I may be only two degrees of separation from the Galvins.

###

Speaking of dysfunctional mothers… It’s my own mother’s birthday today! She would have been 90.

Here she is with Tim Ware in Tim’s band, Sticky Fingers:



I no longer have anything to do with my mother’s family. They are creepy & dysfunctional—but more significantly, their creepiness & dysfunctionality make me creepy & dysfunctional, a kind of psychic contagion. So, it was better to surgically amputate them from my life.

Ichabod is still in touch with them, so if any of them need me to donate a kidney—which actually, I would do—the request will get through.

###

My mother deserved better than the life she ended up with.

I wish I could forgive her.

But unfortunately, I am stuck with a dual perspective here: the damaged child’s experience of the horrible abuse & neglect she inflicted on me and the analytical adult’s understanding of everything she was up against. Talk about the assimilated trauma of generations!

The biggest accomplishment of my life is that I was able to break that pattern! It’s like being Atreus in the kitchen: Wait! I’m supposed to cook what? Hell, no!

Of course, I made plenty of my own mistakes.

And I remain deeply damaged in ways too fundamental to repair.

But I’ve made my peace with that. You kinda have to.