Channeling Lois

I fear I have been channeling my mother as it pertains to my house and spending money.  And in the end the feeling I get is I don't deserve to be happy.  She was a sad and bitter woman, an alcoholic who never recovered from the loss of her father, almost as if somehow it was my fault for being born on the day of his funeral; a constant reminder of her loss I was.  My parents had expectations of me, not the least of which is that I would be like a self winding watch not needing attention paid to it other than the occasional glance.  I was cast adrift in a sea of apathy from which I was expected through some form of osmosis to get the tools needed to grow into a competent adult.  I have spent the greater part of my life trying to assemble the tools needed to show at least the outward signs of maturity.  Smoking and drinking came too easily, almost at the behest of the parental units.  Now those are things in the past and the outward signs of maturity seem to slip through my fingers, home ownership and decision making seem to be the two biggest ones.  I constantly doubt myself, as if channeling Lois, my mother.  Few knew her, fewer loved her, I not being one of either as she so consistently pushed me away, at the same time wondering why I was so cold to her.  So when I am in the pits of a depression I push those away who wonder why I, too, have grown cold and distant.  Self preservation at this point is the ultimate goal.  If I can make it through the next month, chrysalis-like, I can emerge into a new life role.  Making it to that point will take more discipline, introspection, and self-interested preservation.

“In increments both measurable and not, our childhood is stolen from us -- not always in one momentous event but often in a series of small robberies, which add up to the same loss.”
― John Irving, Until I Find You