I’ve been thinking about pleasure. Is it wrong to want it, or to feel it?
My mother told me some very uncomplimentary things when I was a little girl, and no matter how she’s tried to make up for them–then or now–I still hear her words echoing in my head.
“No one will ever love you unless you change yourself completely.”
“It’s a good thing you’re smart; at least you’ll have something to offer somebody–if anybody ever decides to take you. “
“Men want girls who are happy and smiling; they don’t want girls who won’t pay attention to them and leave them to their own devices.”
“The only way anybody would even want to put up with you is if you were paying for them somehow. Nobody will ever bother with you otherwise.”
“You’re going to die old and alone, and good thing too; you’re too twisted to treat anybody decently.”
And this, whenever I was doing something that made me feel good: “Why are you doing that? Only weird people like things like that. Do you want people to call you weird? What did I do to land you as my child?”
I still wonder if she was right about it. She’s my mother, right? She says she knows me better than I know myself.
So I wonder, when I take pleasure in something, if somehow I don’t deserve it, or if I’m wrong for feeling it. My mother always implied that I was somehow made wrong for feeling the way I felt and doing what I did and thinking the things I do; maybe she was right that I shouldn’t expect to feel good about anything. Maybe she was.
I hope this post makes sense; it made sense in my head, but it sort of poured out disjointed.