Wednesday, October 14, 2020

What It Is Wednesday: Tempered Truth


Image copyright John Hain

A response to this poem:

I tend to temper the truths I tell my mother. It's easier to get along with her if she doesn't have reason to criticize me. Sometimes I think the fact that I'm breathing is enough reason for her to criticize me, but if I weren't breathing, she'd criticize me for that too. We have a difficult relationship.


  1. Ouch.
    I tended to tell my mother the truth. But by no means ALL of the truth.
    And yes, our relationship was difficult too.

    1. Some might say it's the coward's way out, but it's just easier if she doesn't know about certain things. And it isn't stuff like me going to opium dens and orgies either. It's stuff you'd never think of as being a problem.
      My mother is one of those "just stop thinking like that" people. She had a very difficult life and any time someone expresses softer thoughts or feelings, her response is always "well, that's just how it is." I gave her a printout of some poems I'd written in memory of my father. I don't think she even read them.
      It's honestly just easier to keep her on the periphery, and that's sad.

  2. For me, it's about control. My mother felt out of control, so she tried to control everything, especially me, so it didn't matter what I did or said, she had to go the opposite and get me to change, even if I was doing something she wanted. It was very confusing.

    1. Actually, that sounds a whole lot like my mother. I swear that I could say something that she had said the day before, and she'll disagree with it. A lot of the time I can distract her by getting her to talk about how much she hates tRump. I'll lose that ability if the bastard loses, but I hope he loses anyway.


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