I was doing the dishes, my mind wandering as it often does in the circumstances, and I remembered a little incident from when I was about 13.
I was at my mom’s house (my parents were separated, soon to be divorced) and she said she thought it was time for me to learn how to do my own laundry. I was stricken; I may have cried. She dropped it.
I actually like doing laundry now. So what was that reaction about?
In recent years I’ve realised that I never felt like I had much emotional support from my parents, and they were both emotionally distant, though in different ways. Imagine that a baby’s parents are killed in a car accident leaving a child-free but dutiful aunt and uncle take on the responsibility of raising her. That was my childhood.
The laundry thing wasn’t about laundry; it was about my mom doing something as part of taking care of me and threatening (utterly without malice) to take away one of the few bits of support I had from her. It was about learning to be independent because no one else is going to help.
I guess I don’t often notice feeling lonely because lonely is my normal.