Sometimes I wonder whether my mother's behaviour influenced me. Maybe it's genetic. Maybe I'm wired to live my life like hers.
My mother was an artist.
She was loved by men in general. She never had a shortage of them. She married my sister's dad, got involved with my dad, got pregnant, got a divorce and remarried to my father. Years later she got involved with a man and left my dad.
From that point on she was free to see who she wanted and she had two important relationships and a friendship I suspect bordered on a relationship.
Fact is that she was always involved with men who had problems. Nothing terribly serious, nothing abusive. The last one was very OCD, the first was partially schizophrenic, although he was a musical genius. Both were musical, one was more intellectual, the other was "dumber". Strangely the dumb one was the musical genius. Think the movie Shine... Just not as good looking lol.
She died relatively alone. She had just broken things off with Mr. OCD- Intellectual probably trying to save him some heartache.
Her last wishes were to do more art.
Sometimes I wish I had that life. I long for it... When I logically look at it though, it seems very lonely and I doubt my cravings for it. This whole logic brings me to fear my getting an apartment.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not chickening out. It's just what goes on in my brain.