About Me

My photo
The older I get, the more cynical I get. It is not a fact I am proud of, but it is a fact. I disbelieve just about everything the establishment and the media tell us. I am convinced that we are manipulated into being the submissive, law-abiding robots that we have become. It grieves me greatly.

Sunday 19 April 2015

No one is watching

This afternoon I was walking down the road behind a man walking a dog.  He had headphones on and was singing along to whatever music he was listening to, loudly and quite badly.

I wondered if he was drunk or if there was 'something a bit wrong with him'.  As we sauntered down the road on a sunny but quite cold Sunday afternoon it began to dawn on me that the person who might have 'something a bit wrong' with them could be me.  Why shouldn't he sing if he wanted to?   The only person within hearing distance was me and I didn't mind, more to the point he clearly didn't care if I did.  Children laugh, skip, sing and run - and I find it entertaining.  When adults do it, I wonder what they are drinking or taking.  

My mother has lived her life by the mantra 'what will other people think'.   As children and teenagers my brother and I suffered considerably from her obsession with 'other people'.  The slightest deviation from behaviour that she considered acceptable would earn us the 'never been so ashamed' reproach.   Who were these people?  Why were their lives so empty that they stood around waiting for us to go by so that they could judge them?  Knowing what I do of her own childhood, I can see why she might think this, and I have a great deal of sympathy and understanding, but I don't understand why she carried it with her to the extent that it has ruled her life. 

When I was in my mid-twenties, I put on a great deal of weight. Since then I have lost and gained excess weight over and over again, I like food, I dislike me being overweight, I need to deal with that daily, not waiver between extremes, but that was the first time I had gained.  It became our constant battleground.  When mum had dragged every threat and insult into her arguments and they had failed, she then recruited other family members and friends to the cause, not that they actually knew they were part of her arsenal.  She would relay what others had allegedly said, and I would either ignore her or suggest she tell them to get stuffed.  Once she went too far and I actually started to call up the relative she claimed had insulted me.  Mum became hysterical, but still could not admit that she had lied.

During that time my mother and step-father hosted a ladies night for his local masonic lodge.  I was invited along with my then boyfriend.  Mum tried everything to get me to lose weight, 'so ashamed' was flung at me with alarming regularity, despite my obvious immunity.  Mum even bought me a very restricting and very expensive corset.  As I was not planning any trips to 1952, I refused to wear it.  The evening turned out to be a great success - and my mother and step-father openly admitted much of it was down to me.  I chatted with everyone and encouraged even the shyest person to get up and dance.  The next time I visited, all they could talk about was how many people had called them afterwards to say how lovely I was.  I asked her how many had said I was fat and mum looked at me as if I were mad.   

I do understand that it is not entirely mum's fault that she has this obsession and there is much more to her than this.  She was and is a very kind, caring person and will go without to help others.  She has been through some really tough times, remaining serene and calm. That perception may have been to fool 'other people' but it could also be comforting for those of us going through it with her. But it was not until I heard the man singing the street today that I realised that I still worry too much about what 'other people' think .  Like mum, I can tend to give other people control over my life and particularly my thoughts.  From my late teens my stock response to mum's mantra was 'absolutely nobody is watching us', I just need to believe it.   Thanks to Edward Snowden, we now know that at least two governments probably are watching us and very rarely for our own benefit, but as for everyone else, they really aren't watching.  My Sunday resolution is to be more like singing man and less like my poor mum.  

2 comments:

  1. Oh, bless -- I love this post. As a teen in the 80s, I was very aware of "body image" (as opposed to body strength or body comfort) and responded by getting very, very fit. I measured my fitness by the flatness of my stomach and ticked along fine until I had babies and the flat stomach became irredeemably floppy and wrinkly. It has taken a long time to reconcile my health and comfort with the new look, and on the way I have had to learn, oh so slowly, to ignore or at least shelve persistent comments (advocating surgery) from one particular family member. The idea of singing/dancing anyway really appeals, and I'd like to go a step further and suggest that if people did happen to look, they try to like what they see. We are, after all, products of our own journeys -- which is special in itself? [I believe this, I just need to absorb it now...] I do think if we all live our lives less self-consciously, we'll get there together.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Absolutely agree with you about looking for the positive in others and living less self-consciously.
      Thanks for your comments. Glad you enjoyed the post.
      Viv

      Delete