One of the best things about my mother is that she is willing to look at things from my point of view. But discourse never meant agreement. It only means you are lucky you have a parent who doesn’t believe in forcing her opinions on to you at the drop of a hat. And when agreement about something does happen, it is not without war, no ma’am. My mother, as I have often told her, is the soulmate I didn’t know I wanted (conditions apply*).
We fight. Well, I do, everyday. I don’t know what it is about me that makes me think that one of the best expressions of love is fighting. Why the hell would you want to to fight with a stranger? Why the hell would you want to exchange heated words with someone who doesn’t matter to you at all? It happens when you care. And so I don’t mind fighting at all. One day I told my dear mother that I would like to get married for love. To which she replied, “oh that’s fine, but just for curiosity sake, do you know what love is or how to love?” Do I know how to love? Do we know how to love?
Forget familial love, husband wife love, or mother daughter love, how many of us know self love? Do we know self care? Do we know how to care for ourselves? I think we lost that art of self care, and this is validated by Foucault’s work (Technologies of Self) too. So, there you go!
* only when we are not fighting