Don't Think Twice

The spirit rules the body. I've witnessed this to be true with Nanna Jones. Any time Nanna feels out of sorts she develops a mystery illness that can never be diagnosed but excuses her from stress or deadline or whatever she can't handle. She would spend a week in bed, skip out on the rough stuff and resume perfect health. While it was obvious to myself and others that she used this as a defense mechanism, it didn't make her any less sick just because she created it. It makes me wonder: don't we all invent our pain?
I think of Nanna Jones now as I deal with this throb in my face. I define these throbs as sinus infections and I've gotten them for years. Only when experiencing one am I aware that they show up anytime I find myself confronting feelings concerning my Mother.
I blew in on a wild September storm on the year that Momma and Daddy turned sixteen. Momma has always been quick to say that the weather that day perfectly predicted our relationship. I try very hard to bury any feelings I have left for her in the darkest of my rooms. I find resolution in the the truth that some things will always be unresolved. No happily ever after here, friends. It's just not going to happen.
On Tuesday I had to go for my assessment. In order to evaluate anyone, the pros always go for the throat or in my case, the traces of my mother found on my person. As I listened to myself speak to this gal with hair that matched her skin tone, I listened to my Momma and Daddy take turns talking. Momma did most of the talking. Marilyn the Rehab Professional's assessment was that I don't have a drug dependency. My assessment is that I am so much like the very woman I like the very least.
It makes my face ache.
And it's hardly worth it.
My current comfort level is zero.
It's hard to sit well with these feelings in my lap and this ache in my round face.
I should be happy.
My life is sweet.
The traits that I inherited from Momma have served me well and have taken me on an entirely different path than the one she walks. While she is submissive, I am dominant. While she serves, I am waited on.
I cannot help who I am anymore than she can help who she is and a level of forgiveness should be forged on that alone.