Internal matters -- a reconstruction update
A few days ago I wrote a very concrete report on my construction. I talked about paint, bricks and rearrangements. Today, I am reflecting more about the internal echoes of all those changes. Nobody has to be particularly perceptive to realize that moving and changing homes mean to me more than a matter of dislocating my earthly belongings from one place to another. There is a symbolical level to all those transformations, and I am hopeful that the actual events are mere reflections of what is happening inside me these days. I cannot relate those internal changes very well. They are still so recent and delicate that I wouldn't be able to put them into words precisely, yet they are there. They certainly have to do with a different perception of myself and of the things I realize I am capable of doing or not.
I am no different from the rest of the world. As many women on my age bracket I survived the end of my marriage, but my self-image was badly damaged in the process. Ugly things are said when there is a break up, but the worst part is that I believed what I heard. I was told that motherhood had turned me into a drab old woman, and that I was not even smart enough or competitive enough to have at least a shining professional career. Crawling back to my shell was natural under these circumstances. Crawling out is a slow process and it is only possible as I learn internally more about myself, depending less on outside feedback.
I keep saying to my daughter that repeating a lie one thousand times will never make it become the truth. That one wrong repeated a thousand times will not become right. And that if she knows who she is, it won't matter what others says about her. (She complains to me when her mates call her "little monkey"). I hope she can grow up with these things in mind. It has taken me years to finally get their full implication.
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