In Case No One Can Tell, I Am Neurotic. The Only Cure is For Me to Tell You About It.

Next week my cousin and her daughters are visiting from NY. They’ve never been to California before, so a trip to Yosemite is in order. I also thought about taking them for a steam train ride outside the park.

But then my husband hates the idea of the train ride. He’s not even keen to go to Yosemite. He insists we take them hiking in the High Sierras instead.

I panic.

In alcoholic homes we learn to discount our perceptions and tolerate abuse. All my life I’ve been told that I have no common sense, that I do everything wrong. It doesn’t help that I married the kind of guy tells me I put dishes away in the wrong order.

Despite my feminism, I still carry within me the resounding attitude of “Men Always Get It Right.” This was Accepted Truth for my first twenty years. Beliefs like that just don’t go away when society changes--they stick in you, crowding in at inopportune moments. Like when planning this trip. How do I tell who is right here--me or JR?

I ask the advice of two friends who tell me, “Do it your way.” Still I can’t move. What if I’m wrong and everybody has a bad time? What if JR gets mad?

Meanwhile I need to make arrangements quick because time is running out.

“You see?” says my brain, “You are a loser because you’re not taking care of this.” (This is the way folks talked to me as a kid. It never fixed anything, but I still carry on the tradition.)

I think, “This is JR's fault for always being so critical of me. Tomorrow I’m splitting with my half of Community Property.”

But first I need to decide about the cousins.

The Amazing Solution
Finally I sit down at kitchen table and imagine I am my own loving mother, the kind I needed as a kid. I tell myself, “Look at wonderful you, sitting at the kitchen table. I approve of you, I bless you. You don’t have to do it perfect."

Immediately I know just what to do: Take the train ride, see Yosemite, skip the High Sierras. I call, make reservations (scared to death it’ll be too late and the person on the phone will sneer at Stupid Me. But there's plenty of room.)

I call JR and say, “I know you wanted to do it your way, but I need to develop the confidence that comes from doing what I think is right.”

Bless him, he says the magic words: “If it makes you happy, I’ll be happy.”

Total Triumph!


Virgin mother bless me, so vagrantly insecure.
I need your assurance
No one is mad at me.
I can breathe.
Just guide and accompany me
My faery Queen, my loving support,
Mother Over All
Guide me, nourish me, bless me.