I was always amazed, when Nmother was alive, how little she knew me - it was always difficult to believe that I lived in her house until I was 18 and she had absolutely no idea who I was or what I believed. She seemed to make up who she thought I was - it seemed to have little to do with me, but more with what she needed me to be at any given moment. She vacillated between thinking I was a liar and a compulsive truth-teller - the truth was somewhere in the middle as I was growing up, of course. She sometimes thought I was smart and at other times accused me of being stupid - again, the truth was somewhere in the midst of that. She accused me of being too religious and then too unbelieving - again, neither of those defined me, but it seemed that she sometimes needed me to be one way, sometimes the other. And it had nothing to do with me - I was merely a prop in some drama she had going on in her head. It was amazingly confusing, especially when I was a teenager, trying to figure out who I was and what I believed, to have the supposed adult defining me in various ways that made no sense. I got the oddest presents - picked out either by Nmother or WWW. Sometimes we all got the same thing and sometimes I got what WWW wanted or liked - or something so obscure that I really had to wonder what it was.
And I wonder why it took me so long to figure out who I am - all those weird messages that had nothing to do with me... Hmmmm...
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