His memories of his mother were not pretty. Mostly, I remember my grandmother always saying I was too skinny and trying to feed me, “Mangia, mangia, mangia!” Ironic that now I’m fat.
I remember a particularly dramatic day in Milan when I was around seven years old. Nona Theresa showed up unexpectedly after taking the bus from Rome, her arms in the air, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Io Venuto!”
Being crazy is something I'm pretty paranoid about, mostly from messages from my parents, who owned every self-help book available in the 80s. No wonder I got into the field of mental health. But what is crazy? There certainly are the manic-depressive moments, emotional sensitivity, angry outbursts, and storms of tears, but so far, I have never actually questioned my sanity. I have been aware of the roller coaster, and thus mindful as a result, to read these as symptoms that need addressing, not labels for the rest of my life. Back to soothing teas, acupuncture, doing the emotional release technique, as well as more art and journaling to channel mine, and hopefully my grandmother's energies into something grounded and centered.
(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)
