Two women wrote about JD Salinger and got all kinds of crap for blowing his cover. One was his daughter, the other Joyce Maynard, his lover for a year or so.
Joyce Maynard was a speaker at a Key West Literary Seminar I attended. The other writers disdained her. Agreed, she is not the most healthy psychologically. Her writing is, well, I use her memoir, At Home in the World as an example of how not to write my own.
Still, I absolutely support her telling her tale. She comes across as self-justifying, and every other sentence is "my father drank," without really opening up. She uses her children to justify her existence, which annoys me. Still, she writes well. She's a compelling read.
Many have dissed her for not maintaining Salinger's bizarre retreat from the world. (Hence her title--after living under his spell of hatred for everything and everyone except himself, his son, and a few people who he deemed worthy of existing--she was one of those, until she wasn't.)
I totally recognize the narcissistic personality disorder Salinger suffered from. He was a less mature version of his hero, Holden Caufield, the adolescent anti-hero of the book that still inspires psycho killers, Catcher in the Rye
Salinger reminds me of my ex-husband/wife. A mean, solipsistic bastard with zero insight. I don't know what causes personality disorders, but as a psychiatric nurse, I know they are impossible to treat.
Well, some claim to be able to treat, say borderlines. But only by giving yourself entirely to their treatment and well-being to convince them the world isn't out to get them. Exhausting and of dubious efficacy.
I tried it with my narcissistic personality disordered spouse. After a decade of self-effacement and dedication to Michelle's comfort, I rebelled. I was a zombie. I had no personality left. All was sublimated to her well-being.
When I began to get my own voice back, she cracked. I was no longer part of her charmed circle. She'd tell me her worst fear was losing me, then verbally batter me, bringing up crap from my past that she had no idea about.
Michelle lied like a rug. Salinger's daughter said of her mother (another narcissist-- and/or codependent from hell. They tend to go together) would accuse her daughter of all sorts of garbage only to make the mother look good. Yeah, exactly.
I once asked Michelle why she yelled at me, brought up crap from long past, made me feel like shit. Caught off-guard, she would be disarmingly honest.
"It makes me feel better" she said.
Oh. Fine. Batter your wife because it makes you feel better. It has nothing to do with what the wife did or did not do.
I'm not alone in this. I don't want this to be a justification for myself. I was a victim, yes. But we all have free will. Sometimes we choose not to exercise it.
I have fibromyalgia, rheumatoid arthritis, osteoarthritis, Epstien-Barr, recurring... I am exhausted most of the time. No, all of the time. Activities of daily living are like climbing Mt. Everest. My Aunt Lottie was like that, before it had a name. They simply called her a hypochondriac. I used to visit her. I probably got the virus from those visits.
The visits were torture. As were my weekly visits to my grandmother. Babci (Polish for grandmother) never got over my mother's death of cancer. Why did I go? Duty.
I'm a Virgo. I'm moon in Leo and Sag rising, two signs very different from Virgo's dutiful, anal-retentive goodness. Conflicts. Each side of me despises the other. I know that's self-defeating now.
Not that I believe in astrology 100%. But it's as good a system as any for decyphering human action.
I believe in Western medicine, and have been on anti-depressents since Prozac was brand new.
I have to pack now to go to Pennsylvania for Christmas/New Years. My brother bought me a ticket--an expensive gift, as I fly from small airport to small airport. (EYW to Avoca). I will miss my cats. I will worry they will not be here when I get back.
I am working to be happy and look forward to seeing my family, whom I love--all of them. There's no reason for my fear, but airports scare me. I have no fear of flying, only of airports.
I was busted last time for a bottle of water I'd forgotten I left in my purse. The security guy was cool about it and didn't strip search me. Everyone is a terrorist and no one has a sense of humor anymore.
Okay. I must pack.
I am love. So are you. Peace out.
No comments:
Post a Comment