Selfish?

Been MIA the past few days..work has been absolutely INSANE with Quarter and Year end looming. Thankfully, it all dies down tomorrow and then will start all over again next year.


Christmas was great...the kids were super excited to get their PS2 (a gently used hand-me-down from my manager) along with the 20 games they got to go along with it. Madelyn got her Heely's (you know, those stupid sneakers with the even more stupid wheels) and her pink soccer ball..and Chase got his "big boy" scooter and tons of arts and crafts stuff to keep his busy hands busy..lol.

My amom and asister (along with her husband, MIL and two boys) came over for crappetizers and dessert...and then a little before they left my nmom and nsister came. I have to admit that it was terribly awkward there for a little while. No one really knew how to bridge the gap..and so, it wasn't bridged. But they were cordial to each other. I was relieved when everyone else had left and it was just my nmom, nsister, Steven and Madelyn in the house...(Chase spent the day with his dad and his family).

I'd written to my asister before Christmas..telling her that I wasn't trying to be selfish by inviting my nfamily. That I just wanted to share the holiday with both of my families...I didn't get her response until I returned to work on Monday:


In some ways bringing the biological family and the adoptive family together is like bringing together the ex-wife and current wife, children from first marriage and children from second marriage, all to celebrate together.


Everybody has to work a little extra hard to be okay, and it takes time. Of course you're not selfish to want to do it, and hopefully you know that the other people aren't meaning to be selfish either.

I'll be honest, Chrissy, it hits me on a deep level that you have another sister. That's my issue, not yours, and I certainly don't begrudge you a relationship with Cate and wouldn't want you to keep Cate and I separate because of it. But it still makes me feel weepy. So I imagine it's similar for mom. Make any sense?


So, I read that part of her email and immediately started feeling really crappy for putting them through it. And as much as I didn't want to feel selfish, that's exactly how I ended up feeling.

"It All Makes Sense Now"

That's what my asister said when I told her about the flashbacks and why I'm in therapy this time.  She knew about when I was in therapy during my early 20's, and that it was because our adad was "inappropriate"..but now that she knows that there was more, she said that it explains a lot about why I am the way I am, and why things have been the way they are for me. 

Phew.

We had lunch on Saturday..something we don't get to do very often without the kids.  I was hesitant to talk to her about what's been going on, but I just had to.  She's the only one who experienced the mental, emotional and physical abuse that I did...and we are getting to the point that we can talk about it openly. 

My amother has put my father on a pedestal now that he's dead.  It's infuriating...and sad.  She had been abused as a child at the hands of her uncle..and then she married an abuser because it's all she knew.  And because of that, I was abused.  I'm sick and tired of hearing how great of a guy he was...NO HE FUCKING WASN'T.  She's got this selective memory about what life was like and I hate that I can't anything to her about it because I'm still afraid of her.  In my mind, I'm still a little girl and need to keep my mouth shut for fear of angering her.

The bureau that my daughter scratched up the other day belonged to my sister, and before that, belonged to my mother.  When I told my mother what Madelyn had done and that she was afraid that everyone was going to hate her when they found out, my mother said, "She's just a little girl...don't get mad at her...it's only a bureau after all".

WHAT THE FUCK???

Now, I certainly didn't react calmly when I saw the bureau, but I sure as hell didn't react like my mother would have if that had been me or my sister when we were nine years old (old enough to know better, by the way).  We would have had the crap beaten out of us and then be made to sit for hours listening to the ranting and swearing...all the while packing our bags in our heads for the guilt trip we were about to imbark on.

I remember one day I had a friend over afterschool.  We were playing in my room and my friend grabbed the afghan that was folded neatly on the bottom of my bed.  For one second, I froze in terror.  I NEVER took the afghan off my bed because I couldn't ever fold it like my mother did.  I decided that there was nothing I could do except fold it somewhat close to how she had it.

My friend left for home and my mother came in my room to drop off my laundry.  And it happened.

"Why did you take the afghan off your bed?"  She said, teeth gritted.

"I didn't, Shannon did...I tried to put it back the right way but..."  I said, cowering in the corner.

"That afghan was made for you by your aunt...don't your friends know how to respect your things??"  Her voice was getting louder...
"Mom, she didn't know...I put it back right away but..."

"Tell Shannon that she's not to come here ever again...not until she can learn how to respect this house...".

The lecture continued for most of the night.  The daggers that flew from my mother's eyes cut through my heart and took a little more of my soul.

I said something about the afghan story to my sister and she said that she remembered that day. 

It was a stupid afghan!  In fact, the very same afghan is currently sitting on my living room floor waiting for my son to come home and claim it before bedtime. 

I just have to shake my head sometimes at the ridiculousness of my childhood...or lack thereof.

It DOES explain a lot though...don't you think?

Insecurity

It's going to be a hard holiday for my nsister.  Her fiance passed away in July at the tender age of 22 so this will be the first Christmas without him.  I'm worried about her...and know that she needs my love and support right now.  And so, I invited her and my nmom to our house on Christmas Day.  I told Cate (sis) that they were more than welcome to come and just get away from their town and escape for a few hours.  Didn't think anything of it until I got an email from my nmom.

She didn't think that it was a good idea for them to come to our house.  That it might stress out my afamily to have them there.  That the timing might not be great. 

I wrote back:

so here is the thing...i invited you guys to christmas because i'd love to share the holiday with you. I already passed it by Cindy and she was perfectly fine...as my mother would be. I totally understand if you aren't ready though, but just know that I'd love you to come :)

Have to go wrangle Chase into the tub..lol. Hope you had a great day!!


Love you!
 
She hasn't responded yet...but I did get a joke email from her today so she must not be too mad.  What gets me is that it shouldn't feel this shitty to have the invitation rebuked.  But it does feel shitty.  And they've already all met...under much worse circumstances...Cate's fiancee's funeral.  I hate that I can't share holidays with my family...my whole family.  I feel so fucking torn apart tonight.
 
I just want to spend Christmas with my mom.  Both of them.  Maybe that's selfish and too much to ask, but right now, I don't care. 

Enough is Enough

I have a crap ton of work that I need to be doing right now…and zero motivation to be doing any of it. I'm getting a cold, sitting at my desk with a fever and just want to cry.


I'm super emotional…for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which is the fact that (Warning: If there are any guys in my reading audience, the following will probably constitute as TMI) I just got my period after four months of nothing. Sigh. I guess I'm glad that it finally showed up, but my hormones and emotions have been going haywire lately and it's just all very overwhelming.

My darling daughter decided Saturday that instead of cleaning her room before going to see Cirque de Soleil with my boyfriend's dad, stepmom and stepniece that she'd take a pen and carve random designs into the top of her antique dresser. Found it last night when we were pulling our Christmas stuff out of the attic. Just am at a loss as to how to handle her. She's a great kid, don't get me wrong, but that just threw me right the hell over the edge.

I'm at the point that I feel like boxing up everything in her room except for her clothes and putting them away until she can learn how to respect what she has, and respect us.
Anyone have any suggestions?

My a-sister called me the other day asking what to get the kids for Christmas and mentioned that our mom had called her, worried about me. Amom knows that I'm in therapy, but not why… I told her that I was okay…that I was just working through some stuff..but I think that I might try and get up the courage to talk to my sister about what's been going on.  Definitely not before Christmas though. We just put up the tree and the other decorations and I'm trying desperately to get into the holiday spirit and talking about the abuse and everything else would just send my emotions plummeting.

She Lives....

in my mind's eye.  Guarding the huge wooden doors..pacing back and forth...never speaking, just expressing her emotions through her actions and facial expressions.

Behind those doors are the secrets of my soul.  Secrets that I'm not even privy to..because of Girl. 

Girl's probably about eight years old...dressed in a long white nightgown with flowing dark hair and barefeet.   Piercing eyes pleading with me to leave it alone.  Don't worry about the secrets...Girl will take care of them...forever.

But I am realizing more and more that I need to know what is lurking beyond those doors.  Until I know everything, I can't fully heal.

She offered me a sneak peek into what I am dealing with...through a small window high up on the door.  On tiptoes I look, and see...

Darkness.  Just darkness.  But it's the scariest thing I've ever seen.  Because who knows what could be hiding there.

She shuts the window and shoos me away....and commences her frantic pacing again.

I just am so confused and tired.  Therapy is definitely helping, but I just feel like it's an impossible dream.  To be 'normal'.  I don't know any different way to be except ABnormal. 

What if I do see what's behind the doors and it makes things worse? 

Can I take that chance?

Can I afford not to?

Thank Goddess It's Friday

I've been MIA from my blog for a few days...the below picture shows why.  My poor boy has a virus and has been battling a fever (was 104 degrees yesterday..!!!) and has needed all of the snuggling and back rubbing that Mummy could offer. 

Now I'm back and am struggling about whether to talk about my therapy session this week.  It was difficult.  To say the least.  And it was very frustrating.  You see, I got to "meet" the part of me that is trying to keep me safe from the trauma...in my mind's eye anyway.  I really feel like I want to talk about 'her' but every time I try and put the words down, something is holding me back. 

Hmmm...maybe tomorrow. 

I'm tired...and 'she's' tired.  After all, she's been keeping me safe for 35 years...she deserves to be a little tired.