They Never said they Loved Me.

Whether it was growing up in the fifties, being northern or their own problematic relationship but my parents never said they loved me. To be honest I wouldn’t have known where to file it if they had, though I knew I was loved. They never said I was great or good looking either, just ‘do your best, that’s all you can do.’ It’s hard to know if I’ve missed out on these expressions of affirmation. The absence of them though has left me to go about the task of being me the best I can without these external reflections. I’m still ambivalent about their worth. On the negative side I never thought of myself as good looking or great and I have probably missed out on opportunities without the confidence of these verbal affirmations. On the plus side I’ve had to grow my own without any strings that may have been attached to them. ‘You’re good looking if… we think you’re great for… we love you when...’ Even without these strings I don’t like external reflections. My duty to myself feels sacrosanct. This is probably why I dislike social media so much, so many people reflecting other people reflecting each other in a sort of cognitive incestuousness. Hence our growing totalitarian polarisation. Thinking about it masculinity doesn’t go in for affirmations in general. That’s not to say we can’t have huge affection for each other. But it’s somehow between ‘me’ and ‘you’ without, or maybe with the fear of, reflecting each other emotionally. We are born of female and at some point have to break that primary identification bond to identify oneself as male. Or not. We bond as fellow emigrant travellers on this path. In this new country of masculinity we make our new life noticing its different customs and mores. Then again there’s a genderless disposition to meet the roots of ‘you’ without the flimflam of reflections. So on the whole I’m happy they only said, ‘do your best, that’s all you can do.’ Which I did and I think they’d love me for that: Even when what I did do wasn’t exactly to plan.