My Blue Feminism

Heather,

So I just got that 'aha' thing that happens when a "concept" falls into my understanding. 'Aha' seems too small a world, but nevertheless I got it.

I too struggled with having a mother that dealt with her own share of mental illness, all the while being in a fog of denial of confusion over it. At 17 when I felt like I was finally able to make a decision, I chose to leave the situation with her. I had no idea what series of events and wounds both deep and surface that single somewhat impulsive decision would cost me. 2 years later, while I was in a trench of sadness, that I had been walking through for years, I finally realized that I was going through the same thing that my mother did. I lost the first 3 years of my 20s to that disease. Incapable of basic necessities, literally needing someone to remind me to eat, and yet I gained nearly 60 pounds. Whoever the conductor is of this life, he sure has a sense of humour. After years of treatment, and thousands of dollars on medication, at 24 I slowly began to gain the strength to climb that wall out of my trench. When I was starting to become a functioning person again, is when I had my first brush with the Women's Movement and Women's Studies. I remember walking into that class, and seeing these women ranging from my age to 60 and I could see their armor as I stood in the doorway. It was made up of bitterness, disappointment and what I felt was judgment.

I am the first to admit that I was a lucky kid growing up, always presents under the tree, and immense opportunities laid at my feet. I still believe that some of the 'luck' is written on my face like war paint signaling an enemy has approached. Now all these years later, I was so stuck in anger towards the woman who created me, that of course I would seek out a safe place to be just that.

Of course I think that the women's movement needs to be around for some time to come, as does the NAACP and every other organization where there ultimate mission is attempting the massive task of lessening the damage done. Will we get there? I don't know. Our strides seem to get wider every day.

My parents were young adults in the 60s and 70s. If left to her own devices, I believe that my mother would be the ultimate flower child. (When I was a young child my mother wanted to be Cindi Lauper- the hair, the voice all of it...) I remember her telling me the night that the Gulf War broke out about war. She was sobbing, talking about all the men and women who would probably lose their lives, limbs, or sanity. She was crying with such intensity that I remember as she left that night being confused and thinking "Did someone we know go and fight?" and if not, then why such sadness. I get why now of course. The thing I think that is important to remember is that when thinking about or dealing with a portion of society that is marginalized, it doesn't just affect those people. It affects the whole society, it turns from a babbling brook to the Columbia River just as the river is cresting. That is when it becomes daunting.

Thank you for reminding me that the water is fine, I still might spend some time in the sand box, however, every once in a while a girl needs to cool off in the ocean.