My therapist asked me, pretty seriously, how I had managed to survive my childhood and this current relationship so intact. Well, I’m a stubborn bitch, that’s how. The story goes that some of my first words were “Me do it mewelf!”. I’ve got a double dose of stubbornness. My dad’s side proudly wave that flag…and my mom’s side don’t admit it, but its there…and I know I have it in spades. Its not always a good thing, granted, I hold out way too long on the unimportant things and its hard to back down sometimes and change my mind. But I’m pretty sure its what has gotten me through. I will also admit to an almost pollyanna-ish attitude towards people. Because I believe wholeheartedly in the golden rule, I’m loyal and fair and nice and it sometimes takes an extremely long time for me to realize I’m not being treated that way in return. For the most part I believe these are my natural attributes. They are who I am. The taking forever to open my eyes? That might be me or that might be a learned coping mechanism from childhood. It doesn’t really matter to me which…I don’t think its going to change much. I just can’t bring myself to be suspicious and paranoid enough to avoid it all together. And I think that as I look out for myself more it will naturally evolve…and if I’m a fool sometimes? That’s life right? You can’t appreciate the good without a little pain.
So, my mom. My childhood. What did I manage to survive without repeating the process? Here are a few stories and comments that I remember best:
When I was 4 my mom set up her chair right next to the full kiddie pool and told me that if I splashed her with the ball I was playing with I would be in big trouble. Guess what? Yep. The ball hit the water, the water hit my mom and I took off running around the house screaming “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” She got my dad to sucker me inside, where I got a pretty good beating with a wooden spoon.
In reference to my younger (by 3 years) brother “I don’t have to spank him, I just have to raise my voice and he listens. I have to spank you.”
“I was going to get an abortion, but then your dad said we were getting married, so I kept you.”
“I don’t pay attention to you because you babble.”
I’m told I once wore turtlenecks in the summer when I was 6 because I had bruises in the shapes of fingers on my neck. I then went to live with my grandparents for the second half of 1st grade. It was paradise. I remember missing my mom badly for the first couple of weeks. Looking back now it seems like a sort of Stockholm Syndrome. LOL
When I was 13 she threw all my clothes and stuff into the backyard because I wasn’t keeping my room clean enough and it was smelly. Having had a teenage girl in the house, I can understand this desperation. It was the threat to send me to the girls home that was a little too much. At this time she worked for CPS…so yeah…I believed her.
At 16, she pinned me to the wall by my neck and told me she could kill me and make it look like a suicide. My younger brother, who was in the house at the time, would believe whatever she told him. She still worked for CPS at the time. I have no idea what I did that time. I was getting straight A’s, didn’t run around, didn’t drink or smoke or do drugs. She’s crazy.
At about the same time, either my dad was getting uncomfortable with my growing body or she was, because they sat me down to tell me that I should be more modest at bedtime (wearing a nightgown and having the sheet pulled up to my waist wasn’t good enough I guess) and stop trying to tempt dad when he came in to say good night. My dad actually said “I don’t find you attractive.” To a teenage girl??? Who has body and self esteem issues now? Yeah.
When I was 11 or so, I wanted to play hockey. I would have made a great goalie. But she said no because I “never finished what I started”. Like gymnastics. Yeah, its hard to be interested in something you aren’t really good at. And you’re 5! This is just the best example of the constant demoralizing attitude she had towards me.
There were long sessions of sitting at the table and discussing what my attitude problems were and what could I do about them. I mostly remember being in a state of confusion about what she meant and even greater confusion about what I could say to get out of it.
I was a stubborn child. One of those “spirited” kids they write books about. And rather than channel it, as I have tried to do with my boy, she tried to grind it out of me. There was no talking back. No discussions she didn’t start or approve of. You couldn’t disagree or be mad at her. I mean angry. “Dogs get mad, people get angry.” Pick, pick, pick! You couldn’t say “I’m mad you because…..” You might be able to say “I get angry when you…” If it was in the right format it might fly. You could at least say it. Didn’t change or mean a damn thing, but you could get it out there. I was also a straight A student. I didn’t do the things most troubled teens do. I was well behaved. The worst thing I did was lie. And mostly that was for self-protection…but also normal for kids. “No, I didn’t break that” “He hit me first” those kinds. I was a good kid made to feel she wasn’t…anything…
So I’ve learned that actions speak louder than words and you can’t fight, argue or reason with crazy. I’ve been muted. Why bother? Its a waste of time when no one listens. A self righteous, passive aggressive, martyr with a masters in counselling who worked for CPS. That’s my mom. That’s what I grew up with. Its what I considered normal. Or its what feels normal. Because I obviously recognized it was wrong enough to NOT raise my child that way. But I was willing to accept the same sorts of behavior from the man for more than 15 years. How can you see something is wrong and yet not see it? How could I think my son deserved better and not think I did too?
I don’t like people who blame their parents for where they are in life. You know what I mean? I don’t want to be that person. My decisions and mistakes are mine. So trying to reconcile the fact that I am STILL influenced by my childhood and mother so much is hard. I didn’t want to go back there again. I wanted to be done with it. But apparently I am not. I am that little girl still trying to be heard, still trying to be loved, still taking what she gets because its better than nothing and its all she’s worth. I’ll never have closure with my mom. She hasn’t and won’t change. I haven’t talked to her in more than 5 years this time. And I won’t. Which hurts a little. But not as much as struggling to have a sane relationship with her. Its still all about her and if you don’t do things her way, there is hell to pay. And I don’t have to do that anymore. So I don’t.
This blog may not seem like it should be a huge priority, but for me its a measure of progress. I am the queen of procrastination and burying my head in the sand, especially when things are in a lull. And we are in a lull now. It could last a year or more. Our big fights never happen very often. And the small stuff doesn’t seem worth fighting about most times, because it happens daily…and fighting daily is really not something I want to do. He doesn’t listen anyway. It took me 3 tries to get him to stop leaving his wet towel hanging over the toilet paper in my bathroom. Pre-moistened TP is NOT fun! And he still does it sometimes…sigh… So this blog is my way of reminding myself that I really, really, really do want out this time. And its my way of working through these things so I don’t end up in another relationship like this. It is a priority, because I’m a priority. I need to find my spirited self again and nurture her this time, not bury her.
Carry on with the strength you were born with and walk away from the weight of death others need for you to carry.