I made my coffee in the semi-dark this morning—reluctant to wake my marshmallow brain with artificial light. I misjudged the dosage and now I’m sitting up in bed, one curtain open so I can watch the wind rage across the garden, drinking coffee as weak and grey as the morning light.
Damn it, Substack. I just wrote the best comment...and then it disappeared. I'll try to recreate it.
Your writing is exquisite. Every time I read one of your essays I think to myself, "Miranda is brilliant." I miss you when you don't make your deadlines, and I totally understand the need to step back, especially when the outside world and our dysfunctional families get in the way. I'm going through something similar with my mother, a childlike narcissist who has no ability to discern the damage of her actions or take responsibility for them.
A couple of readers have recently mentioned the apparent omission of my mother from my stories. My mother has repeatedly asked, "When are you going to write about me?" I hold my tongue (sorry) when what I really want to say is "You don't want me to write about you." But I refrain, and change the subject as I try to come to some kind of peace with the mother I have. I know it will not work for me to share my stories of her from a place of venomous revenge, so I sit with my words, and wait, it seems it may not yet be time, though I compose them in my head every day. Tell your stories, Miranda. I'm so proud of you and so happy to call you my friend. Let's visit soon and please give that Pickle a big smooch for me.
I suspect your mother does want you to write about her. But she might not want you to write what you need to write.
I don't think venomous revenge would work for me either. I have to feel at least a *hint* of love when I write about anyone. I don't know if that always comes through to a reader. It might be hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and snark.
I'm curious. If you compose the stories in your head, could/would you ever commit them to the page, even if only for yourself? A couple of people have mentioned an anxiety about even writing the thing in a journal in case of discovery. I wonder how common that is. Or does writing for an audience change how we resolve these stories in our own minds?
Oh, she absolutely does want that. But if I wrote what she wanted to read about herself, I'd be changing genres and moving from memoir to pure fiction.
Can you tell we're in the midst of a rift?
I agree that I need that love (at least for myself) if I write the hard stuff about family and relationships. Nothing's black and white. There's love, there's disdain, dismay, and disappointment. And gratitude because without her, of course, there'd be no me, and I do possess some of her best qualities...and some of her worst. No blinders here.
To answer your question, I've written a lot about my mother, most things not worth publishing, but for my own use in processing my feelings and clarifying what's difficult to understand in this complex human who gave birth to me. You should see the volume of unsent responses I've written in reply to some of her most heinous communications. I could publish a thick chapbook with that material alone. I might be an interesting form!
I love the way you write Miranda. It was just the lovely photo of Pickle seemingly awaiting the encouragement to continue off and away on another adventure. I always use the command " go fetch" with my Jack Russels as we explore our mountains..having such fun. Regards Keith.
Thank you, Keith 🙂. We don’t have many mountains ‘round this way. Only a few rolling hills. I do love a good mountain though. If I didn’t love the sea so much, mountains would be my home of choice.
Hey, you! You know you were instrumental in my getting started writing again? That Arvon course and our continued if sporadic chats were Big. So happy you’re here. Xx
Aw yes, the wind chimes and the good ou'l gales that blow the cobwebs away. :) Enjoy Pickle's company...and I know too well...my mum passed away of one of the incurable ones this September. I miss the relationship but who knows in time I might cultivate healthier ones. :)
Nothing like a good storm to clear the air. I loved this post and can see you in my mind’s eye in bed with your coffee and Pickle, allowing your heart to speak. It was riveting!
Go on. Go fetch Pickle! It's good to out and about with so many threads chiming. Sorry about your Mum, whilst thanking you for your brave honesty. Well done!
Cheers, Keith! I’m not sure “go fetch Pickle” was an instruction to me to get Pickle and take him for a walk—or if it was an instruction to Pickle! Either way, I fetched him, we walked, were blustered and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Oh and Pickle played a fetch of sorts with the globules of sea foam. All in all, a very satisfying walk!
Another great read, I’m in total agreement about the weekends, they feel safe, like you have permission to ignore anything work related! Pleased too that by the sounds of it your Mum will be ok x
I’m glad to hear your mum will be okay, and I’m relieved to hear that you aren’t going to let anything get in the way of your beautiful words. There are so many ways to come into our own, but writing and sharing our truth feels like one of the most potent.
I adore your description of the storm coziness, and am glad you have Pickle beside you to ride out the weather. He seems implacable.
I also appreciate knowing I’m not the only one writing my posts in more-or-less real time. Thanks for that solidarity. 💜
Aw yes, the wind chimes and the good ou'l gales that blow the cobwebs away. :) Enjoy Pickle's company...and I know too well...my mum passed away of one of the incurable ones this September. I miss the relationship but who knows in time I might cultivate healthier ones. Thank you! :)
I’m so sorry about your mum, DD. That’s very recent. I imagine it must be quite raw still. Sending you love and cobweb-blowing winds from here on the south coast. X
I am drawn to stormy clouds and windy gusts. It makes me feel safe somehow. I'm with you/behind you 100% in exploring this difficult topic and putting words on the page. I'll be tuning in. Thank you for sharing.
It’s always wonderful to share space with you, Rhaine. Whether that’s in here our shared exploration of difficult topics, or in our meetings. I’m pleased to see your posts are now displaying in your profile. Now that I can see your content more easily, I’m going to do some serious Rhaine reading. Xx
I hate wind chimes and dream catchers too... I would happily join you for a windy walk on the beach Miranda, apologies for the late reading. said wind arrived here, wiped out the wifi (it never takes much on this hill) rattled the shutters loose from their holding hinges keeping me wide eyed and awake three nights, one after the other, the last being Sunday which meant a class of kids to face bleary eyed, tired to the point of tears and unable to concentrate on anything further than the absolute necessity not to fall asleep in front of them! I didn't but damn it was close!
All that, after I had congratulated myself on status 'up-to-date' on Friday with the thought of a weekend of blissful nothing, or even better, tile to write!
'Don't count your chickens...' says my husband, urgh...damn, I hate it when he's right!
Ok, gotta fly... son is looming which means he can't find his gym kit (brain) never worry about losing subs, they come and go but those that love what you write will stay and really, that's all that counts!
Damn it, Substack. I just wrote the best comment...and then it disappeared. I'll try to recreate it.
Your writing is exquisite. Every time I read one of your essays I think to myself, "Miranda is brilliant." I miss you when you don't make your deadlines, and I totally understand the need to step back, especially when the outside world and our dysfunctional families get in the way. I'm going through something similar with my mother, a childlike narcissist who has no ability to discern the damage of her actions or take responsibility for them.
A couple of readers have recently mentioned the apparent omission of my mother from my stories. My mother has repeatedly asked, "When are you going to write about me?" I hold my tongue (sorry) when what I really want to say is "You don't want me to write about you." But I refrain, and change the subject as I try to come to some kind of peace with the mother I have. I know it will not work for me to share my stories of her from a place of venomous revenge, so I sit with my words, and wait, it seems it may not yet be time, though I compose them in my head every day. Tell your stories, Miranda. I'm so proud of you and so happy to call you my friend. Let's visit soon and please give that Pickle a big smooch for me.
You are too kind, Nan. 🥰
I suspect your mother does want you to write about her. But she might not want you to write what you need to write.
I don't think venomous revenge would work for me either. I have to feel at least a *hint* of love when I write about anyone. I don't know if that always comes through to a reader. It might be hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and snark.
I'm curious. If you compose the stories in your head, could/would you ever commit them to the page, even if only for yourself? A couple of people have mentioned an anxiety about even writing the thing in a journal in case of discovery. I wonder how common that is. Or does writing for an audience change how we resolve these stories in our own minds?
Pickle sends a big snuffle and a whinge. xx
Oh, she absolutely does want that. But if I wrote what she wanted to read about herself, I'd be changing genres and moving from memoir to pure fiction.
Can you tell we're in the midst of a rift?
I agree that I need that love (at least for myself) if I write the hard stuff about family and relationships. Nothing's black and white. There's love, there's disdain, dismay, and disappointment. And gratitude because without her, of course, there'd be no me, and I do possess some of her best qualities...and some of her worst. No blinders here.
To answer your question, I've written a lot about my mother, most things not worth publishing, but for my own use in processing my feelings and clarifying what's difficult to understand in this complex human who gave birth to me. You should see the volume of unsent responses I've written in reply to some of her most heinous communications. I could publish a thick chapbook with that material alone. I might be an interesting form!
MWAH! Let's talk. xo
Yes, let's talk. I'll drop you a message. xx
It was stormy here, in more ways than one. You are inspiring me to write about the thorny family things
I hope you do, Julie. And I hope the storms have subsided for you today. Xx
I love the way you write Miranda. It was just the lovely photo of Pickle seemingly awaiting the encouragement to continue off and away on another adventure. I always use the command " go fetch" with my Jack Russels as we explore our mountains..having such fun. Regards Keith.
Thank you, Keith 🙂. We don’t have many mountains ‘round this way. Only a few rolling hills. I do love a good mountain though. If I didn’t love the sea so much, mountains would be my home of choice.
I do love reading your posts. Sorry I haven't left comments for ages. I'm still with you and reading your beautiful words. xxx
I too love listening to the wild wind in the trees and a fresh walk by the sea to wake up the body and soul. Be brave keep writing. xx
Hey, you! You know you were instrumental in my getting started writing again? That Arvon course and our continued if sporadic chats were Big. So happy you’re here. Xx
Aw yes, the wind chimes and the good ou'l gales that blow the cobwebs away. :) Enjoy Pickle's company...and I know too well...my mum passed away of one of the incurable ones this September. I miss the relationship but who knows in time I might cultivate healthier ones. :)
Nothing like a good storm to clear the air. I loved this post and can see you in my mind’s eye in bed with your coffee and Pickle, allowing your heart to speak. It was riveting!
Thank you, Cathy. It was so lovely to connect with you yesterday. I look forward to many more Siren meetings. ❤️
Me too!!! ❤️
Go on. Go fetch Pickle! It's good to out and about with so many threads chiming. Sorry about your Mum, whilst thanking you for your brave honesty. Well done!
Cheers, Keith! I’m not sure “go fetch Pickle” was an instruction to me to get Pickle and take him for a walk—or if it was an instruction to Pickle! Either way, I fetched him, we walked, were blustered and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Oh and Pickle played a fetch of sorts with the globules of sea foam. All in all, a very satisfying walk!
Another great read, I’m in total agreement about the weekends, they feel safe, like you have permission to ignore anything work related! Pleased too that by the sounds of it your Mum will be ok x
Thank YOU, Jo. I've just dropped you a message at your work email address. xx
I’m glad to hear your mum will be okay, and I’m relieved to hear that you aren’t going to let anything get in the way of your beautiful words. There are so many ways to come into our own, but writing and sharing our truth feels like one of the most potent.
I adore your description of the storm coziness, and am glad you have Pickle beside you to ride out the weather. He seems implacable.
I also appreciate knowing I’m not the only one writing my posts in more-or-less real time. Thanks for that solidarity. 💜
I don't often write and publish that rapidly. But when it works, it's fab. That Sunday morning silence can be magical. xx
Feels like a lot of us were taught to live small, please continue sharing your beautiful words, it is comforting and inspiring 💜
Too many of us, Rachel. Lovely to see you. 🙂
*subscribes harder*
Ha! Love it. x
Aw yes, the wind chimes and the good ou'l gales that blow the cobwebs away. :) Enjoy Pickle's company...and I know too well...my mum passed away of one of the incurable ones this September. I miss the relationship but who knows in time I might cultivate healthier ones. Thank you! :)
I’m so sorry about your mum, DD. That’s very recent. I imagine it must be quite raw still. Sending you love and cobweb-blowing winds from here on the south coast. X
Thank you :) greetings from West Flandern X
I am drawn to stormy clouds and windy gusts. It makes me feel safe somehow. I'm with you/behind you 100% in exploring this difficult topic and putting words on the page. I'll be tuning in. Thank you for sharing.
It’s always wonderful to share space with you, Rhaine. Whether that’s in here our shared exploration of difficult topics, or in our meetings. I’m pleased to see your posts are now displaying in your profile. Now that I can see your content more easily, I’m going to do some serious Rhaine reading. Xx
I hate wind chimes and dream catchers too... I would happily join you for a windy walk on the beach Miranda, apologies for the late reading. said wind arrived here, wiped out the wifi (it never takes much on this hill) rattled the shutters loose from their holding hinges keeping me wide eyed and awake three nights, one after the other, the last being Sunday which meant a class of kids to face bleary eyed, tired to the point of tears and unable to concentrate on anything further than the absolute necessity not to fall asleep in front of them! I didn't but damn it was close!
All that, after I had congratulated myself on status 'up-to-date' on Friday with the thought of a weekend of blissful nothing, or even better, tile to write!
'Don't count your chickens...' says my husband, urgh...damn, I hate it when he's right!
Ok, gotta fly... son is looming which means he can't find his gym kit (brain) never worry about losing subs, they come and go but those that love what you write will stay and really, that's all that counts!
A huge Wednesday hug xxx