I had one of the toughest therapy sessions last Friday.
It is the quintessential question of “am I enough?”
This is the Easter egg story. When I was first in the UK, maybe eight or nine, one of the first presents that my Dad and I went to get (for my mum, it was a reunion type of situation) was a decorated Easter egg. We went to this market in the centre of town, which was called the Covent Garden market, and one of the stalls sold Easter eggs, hand-painted and it was a real egg. I picked it as just the best present for my mum.
So we bring the Easter egg home, and we give it to mum. My Dad is standing there- this is before the divorce and separation (AFTER I had arrived in the UK, being separated from my grandparents already)- and it seemed like a big deal.
My mum took the Easter egg, after I held it up to her and told her you were to stand it on the desk as an ornament. It was a really proud moment for me. She took the egg, smashed it against the wall. It broke to pieces.
My therapist remembers this story for five years. I hardly bring it up. I told another friend the other day that my heart (now) can only really be broken by a woman because I had mum issues.
But what was interesting to me was her insistence, that today, I have to insist on things because in my mind somewhere had I insisted on the fact that the Easter egg should have been on the table, then it would not have been smashed and my heart would not have been broken.
So I need to be in control. I need to make sure things are not broken.
That, and she insists that I think everybody sabotages me.