Post hoc, ergo prompter hoc

"After this, therefore before this". This is the "art" of concluding one event caused another event, simply because the first event came first. (Or, this is the blog that occurs when you watch a West Wing marathon and then follow it up with a good ole dose of "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood").

It seems akin to 20/20 hindsight, to me. When an event occurs, you naturally take a step back and see what caused it. From this futuristic vantage point, it's easy to draw links where no links exist.

This is what makes it so easy for us to beat ourselves up over things that we feel are our fault. This unique point of view often compells us to take responsibility for events, actions, and situations that are truly outside of our control. It's like saying that it rained today because I forgot my umbrella in the car. It really rained today because of the cold front that's bumping against the high pressure system that's settled over Florida right now. But in my little universe, it's raining right at the moment that I'm trudging out to my car because my umbrella's in the backseat. And I got the farthest parking spot. That's a contributing factor, too.

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. And every reaction is the cause of some other reaction. Fascinating stuff, no?

I'm thinking about this, you see, because of that stupid movie. I really need to not watch that movie anymore. Or, is it that I need to watch the movie until it no longer makes me cry.

I always cry at that same part of the movie - where Viv has her breakdown and beats her children, and Siddal puts her body between her siblings and her mother's beltings. Because I had a similar experience growing up where I took the brunt of my mother's rage and prevented her from going after my sister, who only wanted her to stop hitting me (I must've woken her up).

That happened when I was 15. I've been beating myself over it for the last 15 years. What did I do that caused my mom to snap that morning? Was I not a good-enough daughter? Did I do something to upset her? What could I have done that would've made it so that it never happened?

Me. Me. Me.

But for the first time, recently, I'm thinking of what else contributed to that event, or the series of days and weeks and months and years, frankly, that led up to the damm bursting that morning. What gave me so much ego to think that I was the sole cause of that event.

Sure, I didn't want to get up and go to work that morning. How's that different than any other morning? (even now, at 30, I have to drag myself out of bed for anything that starts before 10am, regardless of what it is) Mom was used to my zombie impression in the mornings. She used to say you could set off the 4th of July fireworks under my ass when I was asleep and I'd just sleep right through it. It wasn't a bad day out, there was no snow to scrape off the car. My sisters weren't up yet, nor was my brother, and I don't think anyone came in too late to wake her up.

Or was it something that had slowly been building for a while? She and dad haven't slept in the same bed in probably 20 years? Ever since she found out my dad had an affair. She won't divorce him, but she won't sleep with him, either. I don't know if she hates him. She probably did at one point. She was home with four kids while he worked all sorts of odd hours with his dad at the restuarant in Manhatten. So he strayed during that time. She must've felt trapped. Her parents were very Catholic and I don't know if she could've handled the guilt of a divorce. Her sister's not much better. Trudy found out 2 years ago that her husband of what, almost 40 years, had another family. He just up and left her. My father had been telling her for years that her husband had another family, but she wouldn't listen.

Life probably didn't turn out the way she thought. And me, I was dad's favorite. He'd take me into the city with him and I'd drink shirley temples with his friends who taught me to play pool while he spent time with his girlfriend. I didn't know that's what he was doing at the time, but that's apparently what was going on.

I guess because she couldn't lash out at him the way she wanted, I got the brunt of it. I look the most like my dad (other than my brother, but he's the "golden child", so to speak). Maybe that's part of it, too.

Was I any more difficult to wake up than normal? I doubt it. I didn't go to sleep the night before and plan to be anymore of a problem than normal.

It was probably a compounding of many things, and my not wanting to get up was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. It was not a fun scene to be part of, and I'm sure it was not a fun scene to watch. Which is why my sister yelled down at my mom, and why my mom started to go after my sister, who immediately took off down the hall to her room. Which is why I grabbed for my mother before she hit the third step.

Which is when I don't remember anything anymore.

So is it super ego that has made me think for all these years that it was my fault? That had I just gotten up and gone into work like she wanted, it would've been better? It would never have happened?

Or is it a case of seeing the reaction, and thinking I was the cause. Have I been harboring misplaced resentment towards my mother because of this? Thinking that she flew off the handle just because I wouldn't get up? I lost a lot of respect for her that day, and I would be lying if I said that we're at a point where events like that day don't still come back every now and then. But then, isn't that okay? That event, and others, both good and bad, shaped who I am today.

I always had the daydream that my real parents would come and take me back someday. It didn't matter that I looked almost exactly like my father, had my mother's hands. I created this other family who loved me for who I was, not who they thought I should be. And I dreamed that one day they'd come and rescue me from these people I was living with. And I'm sure that my mother had a mythical daughter, who did exactly what mom wanted, and mom was able to live vicarously through her.

So I'm thinking about all this while I'm watching Divine Secrets again, thinking about the relationship between Viv and Siddale. How each has this skewed view of the other and their motives. And this view taints their ability to rationally deal with the other. It's only when presented with the TRUE Viv that Siddale is able to come to grips with the fact that her mother will never be that fairy tale mom she crafted in her mind. That her mother's a real person, with real problems, and real issues that shaped her into the person she is, good or bad. And in learning more about her mother, she learns a lot about herself.

And I'm thinking that there's a lot about my mother that I don't know that made her the person that she is today. And that I really need to find that information out to figure out who I truly am, too.