But, I am here to post for my own sake alone.
Its all coming out through this election trauma.
Me n my Dad.
Were fighting like mad. He doesn’t like to acknowledge it.
He has until 7 a.m.; to move through this or I am moving out. Thats in one hour.
I realized that he doesn’t know HOW to do what he needs to do so I am here to make it sweet.
It’s about the Nobel Prize.
I said it back in the 90s.
I told my father he should get the Nobel Prize for his work on the integrated circuit. But, I qualified that. I said I thought he should get the Nobel Peace Prize for that. As opposed to the Nobel Physics Prize.
Because of the cell phone.
I am using one right now.
My fathers work on the integrated circuit was to minituarize it.
From a very large size to the tiny one it became.
When we visited Bell Labs in the 60s and 70s in family nights, the main attraction was always the two booths across the room from one another where you could see each other on a screen like a tv screen as you talked on the phone.
So, of course, I studied Alexander Graham Bell in grade school; and my father worked at Bell Labs.
So, AT&T Bell Labs, where my father worked, started (obviously) with the telephone.
Then, there was the computer. My 6th grade (?) class (Im not sure if it was 6th grade) visited IBM and it felt crazy good in a small sort of a way to feel comfortable there.
In a paper that he put out when I was a senior in college (this information is from a college friend; I dont have it from my Dad; I am pretty sure my father also repeated this) my father projected that there would be a computer in every living room by the 90s. And they (he and my mother) and everyone in their “set” in England were in such a thrall over the book “1984” by George Orwell!
Our lives were charmed, it seemed.
So, he did for certain write a paper that was pivotal in the industry, that showed the bottom line, that the IC would be cost effective over the then prevalent vacuum tube technology.
And the industry made the switch.
He had secured his place for a lifelong career.
So, he had already created a device called the buried collecter rhat made possible what he called more recently a “scalable IC.” You could “scale” it down to any size.
Hence, as I have said, the cell phone, the culmination of the work that Alexander Graham Bell set out to do, not knowing that there would be a World War and that we would almost destroy ourselves with atom bombs and would need to build an information highway and learn to communicate in incredible new ways…
My father was the soul of the industry.
In 1987, he lost his sense of smell.
He quit 1987 Bell Labs here in Reading because it wasnt going well there for him.
The loss of a sense of smell is important. He couldn’t work after that.
It happened to me.
It started with the cat Daisy’s broken nose.
I saw yesterday that my issue there, with Daisy, was that she wasnt for me, she was for my mother; thats why it was ok about her getting out and getting pregnant.
All those cats were for my mother.
I legally owned them; but I couldnt take care of them. Daisy had “dissed me” at the apartment in Somerville, Mass. It was the first clear indication to me in my adult life of a serious, NON PSYCH issue. She just didnt want to come to me. I came home at the end of the day and she came to the door but then she just walked off. She loved the roommate who I got her with.
So, she was on my mothers turf and –de facto–they went to my mother and I never for a moment thought to question that although I was CONSTANTLY arguing with her about them!
I was treated like a baby and acted like one.
My mother said so.
I didnt like that too well.
Peopke who were sexually abused and have a SEIZURE disorder from being kneed in the crotch need to be handled another way.
I LOVED MY MOTHER.
I was accused of wrongdoing for the email that I sent her just a few days befire her death.
I DID NOT DO THAT TO CAUSE HER DEATH OR TO HARM HER IN ANY OTHER WAY.
I did that to clear up some misunderstandings.
IN CASE SHE DIED! There might not be much time!
And then she did!
That night, before the morning that my father came to the door saying she had had a stroke, I had been up all night in a panic after connecting in my head about being raped by my brother at the beach when I was 13. I connected in my mind with my mother over it. Yes and I did also speak with my father about this last night. FINALLY. At the age of 59 after 38 1/2 gruelling years in psychotherapy. Finally I am not ashamed to be a mental patient. I disdained St. Dymphna, patron saint of the mentally ill; and to stand for the mentally ill–myself and others. I finally realize not to worry about the “label.” For reasons too difficult to explain except to say that I also had a SERIOUSLY disabling physical complaint And it IS part of the healing to realize that there is OFTEN a PHYSICAL DAMAGE component in cases of sexual abuse and that that is PART OF the shame and abuse.
So, on the night of the stroke, I was up all night long. I was worried about the letter (email) to my mother and something in my mind slipped out of my grasp; suddenly the Christian song came to me. “Theres always a reason to always choose joy,” and it stayed with me all night as I went into a deepening panic. I sent an email to Alex, my ex husband, reflecting all this.
I was in terror of having to go and drive to Quakertown in the morning.
This was all in February, before the pandemic started.
So, I had to suck it up real quick about the sexual abuse issue and that I had HOPED FOR A RECONCILIATION WITH MY MOTHER!
THAT WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF THE LETTER.
I had this in my sights years ago, when I met Alex and she, my mother, had screwed it up for me. There was a song, by Mike and the Mechanics, “The Living Years:” “Its too late, when we die to admit we dont see eye to eye.” It was about rhe songwriter/singers fathers death and I figured it was going to mean something to me some day .
I always had the radio on in the car; I wasnt a fan of Christian music yet. The music from my travels played through my mind night and day. I found it depressing but it was all hat I had. I listened on the way to Montgomeryville where Alex lived at the time.
I was living here, at the main house just across the lane.
The morning that my father came over to find me, when my mother had had the strike, all I could think of at first was that I didn’t have to go to Quakertown.
But, to make a long story short, it was HAPPY how this went.
It wasnt that I killed or harmed her .
It was the opposite.
It was her time–and the Lord had me ready! ready to help her as well as myself! She needed my help!