I love your initial interpretation of the "gift horse" saying...:D Btw, the saying also exists in Polish, and my grandma often used it, so I have always been familiar with the expression. As well as memento mori (I had Latin in high school!... "old school" education, Europe, the eighties and all that jazz ;).
Really sad story about your childhood friend who got plenty of toys instead of a parent's affection... Reminds me of how my mom once made beautiful dresses for all my dolls (I had five dolls at the time, I think, which seemed like a lot), as a Christmas gift for me. I wish I had been able to see the gesture as undeniable proof of love and acceptance. I loved those dresses, and I loved my dolls. But I still would have preferred some sort of reassurance that it was OK to be me... Alas, my mom was entirely unaware that I needed this sort of reassurance, or that I felt she saw me as somehow flawed. And I obviously had no capacity to articulate this, even to myself at that point. But I think of those dresses now and wonder how or when things started to go wrong... *sigh*
Anyway... that was random and tangential. Just wanted to respond to your post. Because we clearly haven't communicated enough today... *snort*
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-02-10 02:44 am (UTC)I love your initial interpretation of the "gift horse" saying...:D Btw, the saying also exists in Polish, and my grandma often used it, so I have always been familiar with the expression. As well as memento mori (I had Latin in high school!... "old school" education, Europe, the eighties and all that jazz ;).
Really sad story about your childhood friend who got plenty of toys instead of a parent's affection... Reminds me of how my mom once made beautiful dresses for all my dolls (I had five dolls at the time, I think, which seemed like a lot), as a Christmas gift for me. I wish I had been able to see the gesture as undeniable proof of love and acceptance. I loved those dresses, and I loved my dolls. But I still would have preferred some sort of reassurance that it was OK to be me... Alas, my mom was entirely unaware that I needed this sort of reassurance, or that I felt she saw me as somehow flawed. And I obviously had no capacity to articulate this, even to myself at that point. But I think of those dresses now and wonder how or when things started to go wrong... *sigh*
Anyway... that was random and tangential. Just wanted to respond to your post. Because we clearly haven't communicated enough today... *snort*