Mommy and Me: Psychic Vampires

I vowed I would never do it. I vowed that, although I knew myself capable of living the imprint that woman left on me, I would never do to another human being what she did to her husband and children. I have no husband, I have no children. I've done it anyway.

I do have friends. And looking back over the landscape of time and experience, I can see that I have applied the same pressure to these fine people: pressure to fix what cannot be fixed, to fill a void that cannot be filled, to respond to what is not their responsibility.

For this, I ask my friends for forgiveness. I hope it is forthcoming.

I have asked myself for the same. I have heard my request, and self-forgiveness is not yet forthcoming.

Sure, there are differences. At base, the pattern is the same, and so far unforgivable. It is not a lesson I want to learn, not a behavior I want to own. I know what it feels like on the other side, to want--despite proven futility--to fix, solve, fill and respond.

What a mess.

I write like
Dan Brown

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