Important Moments with my Mother
I was sick – about nine or ten years old and in my bed in the sun room. It was unusual for me to take a day off school as my mother never really thought we were sick. My mother was sitting next to the bed and I had a very strong feeling that I couldn’t communicate and didn’t want to communicate with my mother. I was all blocked up inside. It was like I needed to say something but I couldn’t. I don’t remember that it was about anything specific. I was facing towards the window. Then I had an experience. It was like I had a longing which drew my attention inside, and suddenly I am the smallest atom in the universe and at the same time I am expanding and huge and I contain everything in the universe. Perhaps at that point I was detaching from my mother and becoming a part of something much larger – experiencing a part of my self that was bigger than the daughter of my mother.
Another moment: I was about five years old and I locked myself in the woodshed, accidentally. The woodshed was scary – dark, cobwebs everywhere, strange shapes, old skins, piles of wood, tools, wood chopping block. It had one small window which was so dirty you couldn’t see out of it. The door closed behind me and I couldn’t see where the light switch was. I cried out. I was frightened. I imagined my mother out at the clothesline hanging up the washing, her strong arms taking the pegs and hanging undies and socks on the inner rungs, then shirts and trousers, and then, on the outer rungs, the sheets and towels, some frayed, faded and worn. Finally she heard me and opened the door. No comfort, no hugs, no acknowledgement of my fears. I was bewildered and left to deal with my own emotions, and my mother’s non-response.