Dreams: October 17, 1997

my reaction to her relapse: anger & empathy

I'm in a living room. Mom and Phoebe are there. Phoebe has long wavy brown hair, the front/top part pulled up into a barrette. I'm talking to Mom. She says casually that she drank a little wine earlier, but it was only a small cup, "no big deal." At first I don't think much of it. Then I realize that Mom shouldn't be drinking. I'm upset. Mom says that work just got too hard, that she couldn't cope with it anymore. Now I'm really mad at her for relapsing. Somehow I've grabbed the hair at the back of her head, and I'm trying to smash her face down onto the counter. Now she's drunk. She is a different person. I realize that the way she is acting is not really herself, her true self. I'm sad that Phoebe and I can't see the real Mom when she's drinking. Then my anger dissolves, and I now just feel compassionate empathy for her, understanding her difficult situation. I just feel warm love for her, although I'm still sad.


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