Sunday, November 2, 2014


Okay let me clarify something here about my last post.

My mother doesn’t tell me what to do or how to look.  (She does express what she likes in her quest for her version of a perfect world.)

I am technically a senior citizen myself.  I have defiance down to a science already.

Truth be told (and I know that you don’t really want to hear this) you reach a time in your life where its not all about yourself anymore.

Your parents are getting older and you know that they won’t be around forever.  You want to make them happy in their last days, weeks, months, years… what ever… of their lives.  (They have enough troubles in their lives already in bodies that are running down.  And don’t get me started about their friends getting sick and dieing off in droves.)

So toning down the Goth stuff when I visit them just to make them happy doesn’t feel like a big thing to do.  (And besides that I’ve ruined way too many of the family photos moments for them in my life already putting my happiness first.)

I’m a Mother and Grandmother myself.  I’d like to have the Addams Family version of a family portrait.  But I also wouldn’t dream of insisting that my parents, husband, kids and grandkids be dressed in a manner that wasn’t themselves.  I just don’t live in an Addams Family type of situation.  Few Goths do.

So: you win some, you loose some, and you let other win sometimes just to see them happy.

I have the rest of my life to do what I want in.  And when you think about it, most of my hours are devoted to my comfort and Gothiness.  The people around me benefit from my happiness in my Goth state.

And those that don’t appreciate it have lost out on what I can give them to enrich their lives.

So I hope that my parents appreciate what I do for them in love and kindness.  And that they also know in their hearts that a loving Goth daughter is what I have been.  And I will always be Goth on the inside, no matter what the outside looks like.  I just don't have to be in your face about it all of the time.


Lucretia said...

And I love THIS post even more. :-)

Sylvie Little Corp Goth Girl said...

My father passed away when I was twenty years old, right while I was in the midst of my "uber Goth days." Out of love and respect for him, I pulled out from the back of my close that bright purple flowered print skirt he bought me. I wore it to his funeral. He loved me unconditionally. Even bought me my first corset! It was a labor of love. I don't blame you one bit for doing that.