grate

It is roadkill season.  Which I will not write about because it (seriously) bothers me.  A lot.

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The former student, kid but not kid, adult manchild - who contacted me on New Year's Eve to tell me his mother had died - was lying.  That's fucked up, right?  He was lying to me.  Why?

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Mediation fascinates me.  When I meet the first person, I always find myself taken with their story, ready to align myself (secretly) against the other person.  And then the second person comes in and woos me over to their side and I find myself completely torn.  I think this is exactly the way it should be, that I should find myself on side with both people - because that means I want what is best for both of them.  Because it means I am motivated to help them find a solution that makes them both happy.

The first woman today was warm and bubbly and funny, wept openly and wore her heart on her sleeve.  I was completely charmed.  She was exactly the sort of woman I am always friends with, the extroverted mama type who folds me up in her arms and makes me feel loved.  Like T.  I liked her immediately.

And then the second woman told her story and I over-identified with her to a degree that I was stunned by it.  Stunned because her friend described her as cold and rigid and inflexible.  And stunned because she, herself, told me she could not tolerate weakness in herself or others.  And I wanted to ask her about her overly critical mother, because obviously she has one of those, and I wanted to tell her that she can soften a little without losing control, but I didn't say that because I'm not a counsellor in this situation.  But really.  She was me, just a bit more sure of her me-ness than I am.

Tomorrow we have the part where we all meet and try to generate solutions to the problem.  Clearly the T-Doppelganger will cry, and apologize, and over-own the problem.  And extend herself to do what she can to make things better.  And the Me will not cry with all her might, and will say she needs nothing from this mediation, nothing other than to be left alone with herself.  She is a rock, she is an island.  And in the end, will they find a resolution to their dispute?  I do hope so.


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