Stay calm. Don't doubt everything. Breath deeply.
This isn't the end of the world, it's basically nothing and you'll feel better in one day.
I get so stuck in the thinking that i need to fix this RIGHT NOW so it doesn't become a bigger issue, I suppose it makes sense given my history, but it's not the most healthy response either. Once you talk in the morning, things will be ok. Why can't you sleep? Why can't you just go to bed and rest and feel better for a conversation in the morning?
Ugh
Friday, June 5, 2020
Tuesday, June 2, 2020
Am I Giving too much?
Move away from my happiness
my home
my city
my friends
my comfort
Move into a place that is not mine, won't be mine
No space for me or mine
Stressed, away from comfort, unable to recover. The only thing I have is Jon. the only time I feel better is when I'm with him. Because he has become my only comfort, because I have nothing else. I can't even use my own technology most of the time, kids wanting to or using computer and xbox for videos. can't simply sit and play a game to zone out, food is required, hannah "checking in" every week immediately following school meetings for willow making me feel pressured even when the videos are not required and i keep willow up on her school work (which the calls interrupt).
No comfort. Feel underappreciated. Kennedy shows her gratitude sometimes, and very briefly once austen and willow did, but that was it. I'm just this horrible person to them, arent i? No feelings, no personal goals, no wants, no likes or dislikes. They're kids though, but does that change it entirely? Leaving it without mention encourages the behavior of ignoring my being a person of my own, but saying anything when they're just kids would be stepping out of line, demanding too much of children, no? But then, Kennedy seems to openly recognize my struggles. Because she knows me and knows how different this is for me? She knows that i didn't used to just clean and cook all day?
I dont know.
I feel like I'm letting things slide with Jon, just like things started with roger, I permit things that do bother me some, because its not a big deal and why should I complain? Love is worth it, right? But how far will it go, when will it stop, or will it continue to be an issue? I feel like if I say anything it will blow up into something bigger than I wanted, and then I will have to just swallow it down anyway because there will be no compromise, no understanding, no discussion. But if I dont bring it up, of COURSE he will not know and it will continue. And that would simply be my fault, so what right do i have to be upset if things snowball into a bigger issue? It was my own fault from the start.
It's all small, stupid things now. But I'm so scared of it being worse. But that is unfair to Jon, isn't it? He wasn't the one that did that, Roger did, Don did before that, and A before that... but I need to look out for my self, and if I want this to work I need to speak, right? Why is this so hard?
Because I've been told I'm crazy, I'm stupid, I overreact. If i speak up on small things, I'm being dramatic and stupid, because they're small. and by hte time they get big, bad, and overwhelming, people ask me why I never spoke up, why i didnt see the flags, why I stayed as long as I did..
What do i do? These are small, non issues. But I should say something, right? But when you care about someone you don't go on about these things, just as they should accept your 'flaws' or whatnot, so it isn't fair of me to do this either.
I just dont know.
What do I want?
I want someone who will try to make time for me, to spend with me, quality time one on one. it doesnt have to be a lot, but something.
I want someone who will take on chores, and keep up so that I don't feel pressured to pick up the slack in the name of 'love' or simply to maintain my sanity.
I want someone who will recognize and acknowledge the work I put in. Jon often does this, perhaps not always but this is one that seems fine.
I want someone who wants to take care of me, much like I want to take care of them.
What do I do?
I try to clean, cook, and organize as much as I can to help.
Try to keep the kids moving forward with tasks with minimal issue.
I set aside some of any food I make, even if the kids want more, so he always has something when he gets home or later.
I try to stay out of the way of their family routines so I'm not intruding.
I try to listen, even if I'm not good at advice or not absorbing feelings, I try to listen to issues at least. Sometimes it puts me in inner turmoil since I absorb, but I know I have to be supportive and listening is necessary.
I do what I can to make sure he has good days... fathers day plans are an example.
I sew whatever I can to help, to fix, anything.
I do my best to be the only one being exposed, going shopping etc.
i need to stop for now
my home
my city
my friends
my comfort
Move into a place that is not mine, won't be mine
No space for me or mine
Stressed, away from comfort, unable to recover. The only thing I have is Jon. the only time I feel better is when I'm with him. Because he has become my only comfort, because I have nothing else. I can't even use my own technology most of the time, kids wanting to or using computer and xbox for videos. can't simply sit and play a game to zone out, food is required, hannah "checking in" every week immediately following school meetings for willow making me feel pressured even when the videos are not required and i keep willow up on her school work (which the calls interrupt).
No comfort. Feel underappreciated. Kennedy shows her gratitude sometimes, and very briefly once austen and willow did, but that was it. I'm just this horrible person to them, arent i? No feelings, no personal goals, no wants, no likes or dislikes. They're kids though, but does that change it entirely? Leaving it without mention encourages the behavior of ignoring my being a person of my own, but saying anything when they're just kids would be stepping out of line, demanding too much of children, no? But then, Kennedy seems to openly recognize my struggles. Because she knows me and knows how different this is for me? She knows that i didn't used to just clean and cook all day?
I dont know.
I feel like I'm letting things slide with Jon, just like things started with roger, I permit things that do bother me some, because its not a big deal and why should I complain? Love is worth it, right? But how far will it go, when will it stop, or will it continue to be an issue? I feel like if I say anything it will blow up into something bigger than I wanted, and then I will have to just swallow it down anyway because there will be no compromise, no understanding, no discussion. But if I dont bring it up, of COURSE he will not know and it will continue. And that would simply be my fault, so what right do i have to be upset if things snowball into a bigger issue? It was my own fault from the start.
It's all small, stupid things now. But I'm so scared of it being worse. But that is unfair to Jon, isn't it? He wasn't the one that did that, Roger did, Don did before that, and A before that... but I need to look out for my self, and if I want this to work I need to speak, right? Why is this so hard?
Because I've been told I'm crazy, I'm stupid, I overreact. If i speak up on small things, I'm being dramatic and stupid, because they're small. and by hte time they get big, bad, and overwhelming, people ask me why I never spoke up, why i didnt see the flags, why I stayed as long as I did..
What do i do? These are small, non issues. But I should say something, right? But when you care about someone you don't go on about these things, just as they should accept your 'flaws' or whatnot, so it isn't fair of me to do this either.
I just dont know.
What do I want?
I want someone who will try to make time for me, to spend with me, quality time one on one. it doesnt have to be a lot, but something.
I want someone who will take on chores, and keep up so that I don't feel pressured to pick up the slack in the name of 'love' or simply to maintain my sanity.
I want someone who will recognize and acknowledge the work I put in. Jon often does this, perhaps not always but this is one that seems fine.
I want someone who wants to take care of me, much like I want to take care of them.
What do I do?
I try to clean, cook, and organize as much as I can to help.
Try to keep the kids moving forward with tasks with minimal issue.
I set aside some of any food I make, even if the kids want more, so he always has something when he gets home or later.
I try to stay out of the way of their family routines so I'm not intruding.
I try to listen, even if I'm not good at advice or not absorbing feelings, I try to listen to issues at least. Sometimes it puts me in inner turmoil since I absorb, but I know I have to be supportive and listening is necessary.
I do what I can to make sure he has good days... fathers day plans are an example.
I sew whatever I can to help, to fix, anything.
I do my best to be the only one being exposed, going shopping etc.
i need to stop for now
Friday, May 22, 2020
Who am I?
Who am I? I used to be someone different. Not necessarily better, there have always been problems of course, but I know I've spent years altering my behavior to suit others instead of being who/what I am. I want this to be different. I need to consciously see who I really am so I can make strides to become the person I was, sort of, but while also considering and working on the flaws and problems.
So, a list of things I do think are truly ME. Perhaps also addressing the negatives to each, so I can work on those as well.
So, a list of things I do think are truly ME. Perhaps also addressing the negatives to each, so I can work on those as well.
- I'm crazy. I have always been the 'wild-child'. Running around in the woods, the swamp, jumping from rock to rock in the briar bushes. Wandering so deep in the woods without fear, exploring. Older, this was an energy for things that others didn't usually share. sometimes in a bad way. It was also part of what lead to excesses, impulsivity. Sometimes fearless to a flaw. I'm sure losing some of that is normal as you get older, but to this extent I'm guessing not. Now I can still be this at times, but usually its only with alcohol involved, or very specific moods and situations. This says to me that it's something I've tried to repress, since it comes back with impairment, or when i'm feeling... well, myself.
- Empathic... overly caring. I take in others emotions which can be problematic, but it also means I feel so very deeply, but that is considered a flaw and something I work to hide. There are problematic parts to it that indeed should probably be something i work at reducing in healthy ways, but I have always been able to tell when things were not right, and feel what others are feeling, and to care. Can't watch the news, even a lot of things on facebook. I just want people to care, and it shocks me to see how little they do. i care so much it hurts, and hiding it hurts even more. Really showing it, however, has been taught to me to be unforgivable, a weakness. Something to scoff at.
- A romantic. I guess this ties in with my previous one. As much as I hide from demonstrations of love, I feel it so deeply. I've been taught to hide affections, that it is weakness, that it is a weapon to be used against you. I've been trying hard to break that, but it's still significantly easier to write my feelings. Texting becoming a bigger thing has helped some, but I know i need to work on being open in person as well. I can text things I literally cannot speak, which seems so incredibly wrong. And for me to so desperately want to be loved like i love, but without me showing how i love? it's incredibly hypocritical and I know it, so one-sided and unfair, but how can I break this? I think this is what led to the destruction of my marriage more than anything else to be honest. My fault, I truly believe. I don't think the issues we had would have been so bad, or become what they did at all, if I had been able to demonstrate the affection I needed myself. If i had stopped being so afraid and was able to show how much i enjoyed loving and being loved, could things turn out better?
- A helper. I love to help others. In small ways mostly; i often don't have the ability or means to help in bigger ways. Many of my ambitions in life are to be a better person to others, and even with seriously huge confidence issues holding me back, i try to do small things for others where I can, typically quietly so i am not noticed, because the attention feels wrong, even 'thank you' feels wrong, though appreciated. at this point it's a bit of a flaw, since I will run myself ragged helping others with little thought of myself or my well being, and typically others do not return this, so I burn out and everything becomes a sacrifice of myself. I guess this also could tie into caring, so perhaps these are not so helpful?
- I like beautiful things. i like art. I like plants, because they are beautiful. I like nature, but i can see the beauty in a big city, too. I just like anything that has it's own beauty, and I can see beauty where others might not. I think I do, anyway. Now I'm doubting myself.
- I like singing, and dancing. I'm not good at them, but I like them. It takes a lot to feel comfortable enough to dance, but I like karaoke so much. I like drinking with friends, laughing.
- I like being inappropriate. I like sexual innuendo. This has been pretty thoroughly squashed , not entirely erased, but I tend to try not to express this so much. Worse, I tend to react strangely to others making these jokes even if I'm truly not bothered by it.
Friday, May 1, 2020
...
Trying to explore why i feel this way. I didn't mean to read it, but once I did I can't unsee, I can't stop thinking. I read more than i should have, it didn't sink in, i was taking it in numbly before i recognized and realized I had to stop, this is private.
And now it's in my head, too.
I can't stop thinking that I could never be that person. That you would never care for me like that. And then so much hurt because I feel so much for you, probably inappropriately since we don't really have that much background together, but I always feel so strongly and very quickly. I've never had a short relationship because I don't get into it without knowing for sure it's what I want.
I can't have the confidence that I have had in the past. I can't figure out why I am two people at once. I want you to be able to see me as I am; probably the person you would see before, just hanging out as friends. Or hanging out with friends. But now it's different, I'm scared and timid and can't break these habits to just be entirely ME with you. Do you even remember who I am at this point? I don't know. Half the time I'm unaware of the changes I make to myself to comply to ideas I have been trained to adhere to, but I know its different when I stop to think.
You won't have memories of affection and, i guess, love, not with me. Not like you wrote about. I'm not worth that, never will be, and it breaks me. I want to be that. But I can't, because I'm ruled by irrational fear and I don't think I can ever break that, because I am broken and un-fixable. I want to be myself, the person I am, the person I was before. I think you'd like that person. Confident in most aspects, at least outwardly, even if I had deeply ingrained issues from society. At least I still knew logically that people like me, I'm not a BAD person. I don't know where I lost that or really why. A bunch of smaller things maybe, things I'm only just recognizing now, since this change was slow and gradual over my life, mostly starting around high school but I'm sure the seeds were sown much earlier. It's just overwhelming me now.
But instead I hate myself, I have no self confidence, it leads me to feel jealous and even worse about myself. I feel like I cannot speak of these things, too. I'm punished if I do, punished in my head. You'll be upset with me and it will only make things worse, and it's all my fault for ever mentioning it instead of dealing with my issues myself like any normal person. For even allowing myself to BECOME this way. It's something I have to deal with myself, but how? It feels impossible to do alone, I feel like I need help, but then it goes around the circle again of "that's not ok, deal with it yourself, its YOUR problem."
Even references to people you've been with set me off beyond what they should. I feel subhuman, like I'm just trash, that you will never want to actually be committed to me since you've been able to experience better, worthier people. It adds to my sexual anxieties, why I'm basically unable to do anything I'd normally want. but then, that also adds to my feelings of inadequacy. If I do nothing, I can't be a failure. I didn't succeed but I didn't fail either. Screwed up either way, truly. That's how the feelings hit me, though.
I feel like you'd let me go if things were slightly wrong. I mean, you basically already did. It wouldn't take much for me. You were willing to forgive her for a lot, but I don't think I'd ever be that for you, even with the same amount of time put in. At this point it's like walking on eggshells for me. I'm so scared to lose you because I know I don't have that worth, so scared to do anything, to be wrong, but it's debilitating and making everything worse. Maybe that's why seeing this set me off so badly. I couldn't breathe, and then once I could it was sobbing for over an hour. my eyes hurt.
I'm so scared to lose you that I will probably lose you because of it, because it makes my self-confidence worse, it makes my self-doubts worse, and makes me unable to do such basic things. It makes me lash out, make problems where none were. It's stupid, and I can't figure it out. I want to.
I want help. I need help. The relationship counselors wont respond, this fucking pandemic leaves me lost even more than before, and I'm drowning. I can't keep avoiding everything. I'm trying hard to act strong. I hate weakness. I've always been the weak one, talked down on for my weakness, my inability to do anything right or to its entirety. But how do you do better if you hide and can't show anything? I don't know. I just don't know.
I constantly need reassurance and validation, but that's not fair. its not fair to you, especially when I'm so scared to show affection, because I have the irrational fear of my love being weaponized against me. I should be doing the same for you. I have the thoughts, I have the feelings, but I struggle so much to express. I write, I write here, but any expression in person is a weakness to be weaponized.
What is wrong with me? I just want to be able to fucking live my life and be myself. my real self.
I'm not entirely sure that I know who I even am. Maybe that's something to explore, i don't know.
Taking this to a new space. Maybe I need to figure out who I am so I can try to return to that.
Who do i THINK i am. Next entry...
And now it's in my head, too.
I can't stop thinking that I could never be that person. That you would never care for me like that. And then so much hurt because I feel so much for you, probably inappropriately since we don't really have that much background together, but I always feel so strongly and very quickly. I've never had a short relationship because I don't get into it without knowing for sure it's what I want.
I can't have the confidence that I have had in the past. I can't figure out why I am two people at once. I want you to be able to see me as I am; probably the person you would see before, just hanging out as friends. Or hanging out with friends. But now it's different, I'm scared and timid and can't break these habits to just be entirely ME with you. Do you even remember who I am at this point? I don't know. Half the time I'm unaware of the changes I make to myself to comply to ideas I have been trained to adhere to, but I know its different when I stop to think.
You won't have memories of affection and, i guess, love, not with me. Not like you wrote about. I'm not worth that, never will be, and it breaks me. I want to be that. But I can't, because I'm ruled by irrational fear and I don't think I can ever break that, because I am broken and un-fixable. I want to be myself, the person I am, the person I was before. I think you'd like that person. Confident in most aspects, at least outwardly, even if I had deeply ingrained issues from society. At least I still knew logically that people like me, I'm not a BAD person. I don't know where I lost that or really why. A bunch of smaller things maybe, things I'm only just recognizing now, since this change was slow and gradual over my life, mostly starting around high school but I'm sure the seeds were sown much earlier. It's just overwhelming me now.
But instead I hate myself, I have no self confidence, it leads me to feel jealous and even worse about myself. I feel like I cannot speak of these things, too. I'm punished if I do, punished in my head. You'll be upset with me and it will only make things worse, and it's all my fault for ever mentioning it instead of dealing with my issues myself like any normal person. For even allowing myself to BECOME this way. It's something I have to deal with myself, but how? It feels impossible to do alone, I feel like I need help, but then it goes around the circle again of "that's not ok, deal with it yourself, its YOUR problem."
Even references to people you've been with set me off beyond what they should. I feel subhuman, like I'm just trash, that you will never want to actually be committed to me since you've been able to experience better, worthier people. It adds to my sexual anxieties, why I'm basically unable to do anything I'd normally want. but then, that also adds to my feelings of inadequacy. If I do nothing, I can't be a failure. I didn't succeed but I didn't fail either. Screwed up either way, truly. That's how the feelings hit me, though.
I feel like you'd let me go if things were slightly wrong. I mean, you basically already did. It wouldn't take much for me. You were willing to forgive her for a lot, but I don't think I'd ever be that for you, even with the same amount of time put in. At this point it's like walking on eggshells for me. I'm so scared to lose you because I know I don't have that worth, so scared to do anything, to be wrong, but it's debilitating and making everything worse. Maybe that's why seeing this set me off so badly. I couldn't breathe, and then once I could it was sobbing for over an hour. my eyes hurt.
I'm so scared to lose you that I will probably lose you because of it, because it makes my self-confidence worse, it makes my self-doubts worse, and makes me unable to do such basic things. It makes me lash out, make problems where none were. It's stupid, and I can't figure it out. I want to.
I want help. I need help. The relationship counselors wont respond, this fucking pandemic leaves me lost even more than before, and I'm drowning. I can't keep avoiding everything. I'm trying hard to act strong. I hate weakness. I've always been the weak one, talked down on for my weakness, my inability to do anything right or to its entirety. But how do you do better if you hide and can't show anything? I don't know. I just don't know.
I constantly need reassurance and validation, but that's not fair. its not fair to you, especially when I'm so scared to show affection, because I have the irrational fear of my love being weaponized against me. I should be doing the same for you. I have the thoughts, I have the feelings, but I struggle so much to express. I write, I write here, but any expression in person is a weakness to be weaponized.
What is wrong with me? I just want to be able to fucking live my life and be myself. my real self.
I'm not entirely sure that I know who I even am. Maybe that's something to explore, i don't know.
Taking this to a new space. Maybe I need to figure out who I am so I can try to return to that.
Who do i THINK i am. Next entry...
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Insane
Why can't I stop feeling this way? The overwhelming need to know what he's doing, why he isn't speaking to me, even though it makes no sense. He has his own life, I have mine, it isn't fair to do this. But here I am, and no amount of logic will turn that off. Why do I do this? Every new relationship I go through this. How many have I sabotaged in my early times of insanity? It fades as I get used to it, but the beginning is tumultuous and incredibly triggering of my poor mental health. Even if the relationship lasts, I often come out with new scars, physical and emotional.
I'm positive it's not tied into the relationships themselves, but what causes it? Why? How can I deal, how can I learn to cope, if I can't even figure out what it is that is causing these extreme responses? the insecurities, the complete inability to deal? I try to force myself to enjoy the things I used to enjoy, but it's all empty. Even when I'm "okay" I feel numb inside. I can put on a smile, I can feel brief moments of happiness, but inside is numb. Inside is nothing. I am rotten and broken, useless, unable to recover from traumas that I can't even identify. The trauma responses are there, but no idea where they've stemmed from.
So I have to just keep going, and hoping that the next low won't be my end, because the urge to die is stronger and stronger, and I'm not sure that anyone really realizes how deeply hard to resist it is. It would be so easy, living where I do, to simply make it happen. Sometimes people say, "but what about Kennedy?" But more and more I feel disconnected from her, as well. It breaks my heart, I know I love her, I know she loves me, but I'm also numb and blank. I can hardly feel. Kennedy is pulling away as she gets older, and I'm pulling away as I spiral.
Friendship is a possible trigger. Closeness of others. They will leave, just as all the others left before, and will still leave.
I'm positive it's not tied into the relationships themselves, but what causes it? Why? How can I deal, how can I learn to cope, if I can't even figure out what it is that is causing these extreme responses? the insecurities, the complete inability to deal? I try to force myself to enjoy the things I used to enjoy, but it's all empty. Even when I'm "okay" I feel numb inside. I can put on a smile, I can feel brief moments of happiness, but inside is numb. Inside is nothing. I am rotten and broken, useless, unable to recover from traumas that I can't even identify. The trauma responses are there, but no idea where they've stemmed from.
So I have to just keep going, and hoping that the next low won't be my end, because the urge to die is stronger and stronger, and I'm not sure that anyone really realizes how deeply hard to resist it is. It would be so easy, living where I do, to simply make it happen. Sometimes people say, "but what about Kennedy?" But more and more I feel disconnected from her, as well. It breaks my heart, I know I love her, I know she loves me, but I'm also numb and blank. I can hardly feel. Kennedy is pulling away as she gets older, and I'm pulling away as I spiral.
Friendship is a possible trigger. Closeness of others. They will leave, just as all the others left before, and will still leave.
My Dad
Earliest memories of bad things.
Trying to really dig in, because I truly don't understand why I act the way I do. I don't understand why I act like I have all this shit in my life, but I honestly can't think of too much bad. We had relatively decent money by the time I was really able to remember. We didn't have a lot, but we were surviving. We had been very poor before, when I was very young, of which I have very few memories. We had a home, a nice yard. I knew my parents loved me and took care of me, and my sisters are like my best friends.
Maybe if I write, if I just write it out, it will make more sense. More will come, and it'll make sense, and maybe I can deal with it... Or not. At least get it out?
I suppose the first topic would be my dad.
I remember being genuinely afraid of my dad. I can't pinpoint a reason exactly.
He simply felt unpredictable. I would have nightmares of punishments from him, but none of them were things he ever actually did. Things like hitting me when I did something that, to me, didn't feel wrong. I felt confused.
I never knew what was OK and what was not. I never knew what would get me in trouble. It became the default to think "hide everything" so nobody will see fault.
I suppose that is a trend to this day, though not necessarily to keep myself from being in trouble, but simply to hide everything. Hide everything and nobody will judge you, hide everything and nobody will bother you. Hide everything and you can continue to exist under the radar.
I remember feeling anxiety about being forced into things I didn't want. I have memories of La
Salette shrine around Christmas time, and the dread I felt looking at the stairs where people would kneel and pray. I remember feeling dread that I might have to go up those stairs, an illogical fear that my dad would make me do that (which makes zero sense truly, since we are not religious anyway). Telling my mom about this story as an older child, she couldn't understand how I could remember that. Apparently I was not yet speaking, and was in a stroller. We went again and I led her to what I remembered without hesitation. I can no longer recall all those details enough that I could lead her there today, but i recall telling my mom about it, showing her, proving it, and her disbelief. My age would explain the illogical reasoning, but I'm forever wondering why I remembered that particular moment before most children have really developed that kind of long-term memory. Was it that I was so deeply afraid, regardless of what it was about? In my barely-speaking age, was that deeply terrifying to an extent that I still have vague memories of it?
Some of the worst bits about anything to do with him was that I adored my dad. I looked up to him, I wanted to be like him. I would take his tools and try to build things, because that's what dad did and I wanted to do that too. I wanted him to approve of me. He was also the one who scared me the most, however.
He would critique how I spoke, he would yell at me if I spoke to my friends in a different way than I spoke to him because I was "just doing that to be like ____"... but he never considered that perhaps I could be more than one person depending on who I was with. Different aspects of myself came out, but they were all me, they were all things that existed in me. I simply hid those things so regularly from him because he scared me. His scolding had me unsure of everything I did, using extreme caution to not "be different" than I normally was with them, regardless of what my truth might be. I spent a lot of time teaching myself to question my every action and how they may be perceived by others, especially my dad.
He believed entirely that I was making things up when things were so very wrong. Now I know the issues ranged from severe anxiety, depression, autism, auditory processing, down to simple genetic issues with my feet that make it painful to stand too long.
After high school I was working full time from 4am to noon as a baker at Dunkin, then going to classes from about 3-6 each afternoon. I felt like my life revolved around this, but since I had recently lost all my friends it didn't mean much to me. I was also very likely incredibly depressed but unaware- I had given up most everything, and was stuck in a cycle that included little more than those things, barely caring for my self in that time. Constantly being on my feet, and the aforementioned issues with the structure of my feet, led to severe pain that lasted days after, so even a weekend was wasted hiding while in pain. Instead of any sort of recognition of things going on, all I remember was my dad lecturing me about sleeping in, about not doing anything on the weekends. I felt so tired, so exhausted by life, and he would rage in after 8am if I wasn't awake, forcing me to be awake. He would tell me that if I would get up more my feet would adjust, that it was simply because I wasn't walking enough, wasn't standing enough. After a year or so my mom took me to a podiatrist who confirmed that it was a genetic issue with my feet and simply "doing more" would only worsen it. It is not curable, but knowing what it is, it can be dealt with to lessen pain. Thanks, dad.
He wouldn't install any sort of cooling system, even if the house had central air that he had simply disconnected, even when I was suffering near constantly from heat exhaustion and could hardly eat due to the debilitating nausea I was constantly experiencing during one summer in particular. I would eat dinner mints all day, nothing more, because they eased the nausea in that moment, but it wouldn't go away. I had no energy to even move, and my dad went on about my laziness, how I wouldn't feel warm if I would go in the pool, but I had no energy to even move, how could I go in the pool? So I lay there, an uncomfortable mess. I didn't actually discover that it was heat exhaustion until a friend informed me. At least I did not have that issue again, no thanks to anyone but her. Summers were always difficult due to that, however, since he would never to this day even get any sort of cooling in the house.
My childhood doctor once told my parents that my later-diagnosed Auditory Processing Disorder was simply "Selective Hearing"... in essence, he said that I was ignoring them and it was behavioral. My dad latched onto this, and while my mom continued to feel something was not right, he would treat every occasion of me not hearing him as willful disobedience. My mom continued to have my hearing tested, and hear from teachers that this was certainly something more, but it still took years for them to bother testing how my hearing was with background noise involved. To this day my dad stands by "Selective Hearing" as my issue, just to add salt to that wound. No apology, but why would he ever?
He never apologized even when proven wrong.
An example of that was when the milk had gone bad in the fridge. I had been poured a glass of milk, took a fraction of a sip and spat it back in. "It's bad," I said, and he scoffed at me. "it's not, its a few days old. Drink it." and I was older at this point, still feeling the urge to simply submit, but I knew this milk was bad and of course I was not going to drink it. "It's bad. Try it yourself. Smell it." I said, annoyed but also cautious. He seemed annoyed and came over, clearly expecting to tell me its fine, get over it. He smelled it... and paused. "Huh." he said, then dumped it down the sink drain. "Must have gotten too warm at some point." and that was that. No apology, no acknowledgement of how he wanted me to just drink bad milk. There was an instance of this when I was younger as well, but that one I did drink it.
That was a more minor one of those times. Another was when I was grounded because of a jump rope being wrapped around the ceiling fan of my sister's bedroom, and then the fan was turned on. My dad was yelling for me, his voice was clearly angry. I was confused. I came into my sisters room to see her untangling the jump rope. My dad immediately snapped at me to wipe that look off my face, he knew I did it. He went on about how that can burn out the motor of the fan, his entire behavior screaming anger, aggression. "I didn't do that," I said, confused. I had literally just come over after minding my own business and playing in the living room, and had no idea what was happening. "Go to your room." it was unspoken, but I knew i had to stay there until he forgot. Who knows when that would be- he would never give an end time. Sometimes if I came out after an hour all was fine, sometimes the next day, sometimes a few days. He usually forgot or simply 'moved on' by then, but he never said anything, so i went back to the constant guessing game and the paranoia and anxiety that came with that. If i leave the room now, is it too soon? Will it further my punishment? Worse... will I be yelled at? Because somehow simply being yelled at felt the worst to me.
Years later, my sister admitted she had done it. She was scared, too, and simply said she didn't do it, and was believed. My dad immediately decided it was me, and I was isolated and confused for quite some time. I remember crying because I couldn't understand why that happened. I didn't do anything, he didn't even ask, he didn't believe even my initial honest confusion. He didn't believe my words, either, though he believed my sister it would seem. I was probably only 6 or 7 years old, but I remember going into my room and lying in bed just crying. I remember not wanting to do anything, even when I was probably safe to leave. Depression? I don't know. Reminds me of it, though. I know it felt like a harsh injustice, even if the 'punishment' wasn't anything insane, simple mild isolation.
I guess there are several things with my dad that occurred throughout my youth, more than that even, but there was always good and I do not see him as abusive, I do not see him as anything but a product of his generation. Why should I attribute any of this to my own bullshit? I don't know if its related, but venting it out feels good enough, so I guess that's all for this time, for this topic.
Trying to really dig in, because I truly don't understand why I act the way I do. I don't understand why I act like I have all this shit in my life, but I honestly can't think of too much bad. We had relatively decent money by the time I was really able to remember. We didn't have a lot, but we were surviving. We had been very poor before, when I was very young, of which I have very few memories. We had a home, a nice yard. I knew my parents loved me and took care of me, and my sisters are like my best friends.
Maybe if I write, if I just write it out, it will make more sense. More will come, and it'll make sense, and maybe I can deal with it... Or not. At least get it out?
I suppose the first topic would be my dad.
I remember being genuinely afraid of my dad. I can't pinpoint a reason exactly.
He simply felt unpredictable. I would have nightmares of punishments from him, but none of them were things he ever actually did. Things like hitting me when I did something that, to me, didn't feel wrong. I felt confused.
I never knew what was OK and what was not. I never knew what would get me in trouble. It became the default to think "hide everything" so nobody will see fault.
I suppose that is a trend to this day, though not necessarily to keep myself from being in trouble, but simply to hide everything. Hide everything and nobody will judge you, hide everything and nobody will bother you. Hide everything and you can continue to exist under the radar.
I remember feeling anxiety about being forced into things I didn't want. I have memories of La
Salette shrine around Christmas time, and the dread I felt looking at the stairs where people would kneel and pray. I remember feeling dread that I might have to go up those stairs, an illogical fear that my dad would make me do that (which makes zero sense truly, since we are not religious anyway). Telling my mom about this story as an older child, she couldn't understand how I could remember that. Apparently I was not yet speaking, and was in a stroller. We went again and I led her to what I remembered without hesitation. I can no longer recall all those details enough that I could lead her there today, but i recall telling my mom about it, showing her, proving it, and her disbelief. My age would explain the illogical reasoning, but I'm forever wondering why I remembered that particular moment before most children have really developed that kind of long-term memory. Was it that I was so deeply afraid, regardless of what it was about? In my barely-speaking age, was that deeply terrifying to an extent that I still have vague memories of it?
Some of the worst bits about anything to do with him was that I adored my dad. I looked up to him, I wanted to be like him. I would take his tools and try to build things, because that's what dad did and I wanted to do that too. I wanted him to approve of me. He was also the one who scared me the most, however.
He would critique how I spoke, he would yell at me if I spoke to my friends in a different way than I spoke to him because I was "just doing that to be like ____"... but he never considered that perhaps I could be more than one person depending on who I was with. Different aspects of myself came out, but they were all me, they were all things that existed in me. I simply hid those things so regularly from him because he scared me. His scolding had me unsure of everything I did, using extreme caution to not "be different" than I normally was with them, regardless of what my truth might be. I spent a lot of time teaching myself to question my every action and how they may be perceived by others, especially my dad.
He believed entirely that I was making things up when things were so very wrong. Now I know the issues ranged from severe anxiety, depression, autism, auditory processing, down to simple genetic issues with my feet that make it painful to stand too long.
After high school I was working full time from 4am to noon as a baker at Dunkin, then going to classes from about 3-6 each afternoon. I felt like my life revolved around this, but since I had recently lost all my friends it didn't mean much to me. I was also very likely incredibly depressed but unaware- I had given up most everything, and was stuck in a cycle that included little more than those things, barely caring for my self in that time. Constantly being on my feet, and the aforementioned issues with the structure of my feet, led to severe pain that lasted days after, so even a weekend was wasted hiding while in pain. Instead of any sort of recognition of things going on, all I remember was my dad lecturing me about sleeping in, about not doing anything on the weekends. I felt so tired, so exhausted by life, and he would rage in after 8am if I wasn't awake, forcing me to be awake. He would tell me that if I would get up more my feet would adjust, that it was simply because I wasn't walking enough, wasn't standing enough. After a year or so my mom took me to a podiatrist who confirmed that it was a genetic issue with my feet and simply "doing more" would only worsen it. It is not curable, but knowing what it is, it can be dealt with to lessen pain. Thanks, dad.
He wouldn't install any sort of cooling system, even if the house had central air that he had simply disconnected, even when I was suffering near constantly from heat exhaustion and could hardly eat due to the debilitating nausea I was constantly experiencing during one summer in particular. I would eat dinner mints all day, nothing more, because they eased the nausea in that moment, but it wouldn't go away. I had no energy to even move, and my dad went on about my laziness, how I wouldn't feel warm if I would go in the pool, but I had no energy to even move, how could I go in the pool? So I lay there, an uncomfortable mess. I didn't actually discover that it was heat exhaustion until a friend informed me. At least I did not have that issue again, no thanks to anyone but her. Summers were always difficult due to that, however, since he would never to this day even get any sort of cooling in the house.
My childhood doctor once told my parents that my later-diagnosed Auditory Processing Disorder was simply "Selective Hearing"... in essence, he said that I was ignoring them and it was behavioral. My dad latched onto this, and while my mom continued to feel something was not right, he would treat every occasion of me not hearing him as willful disobedience. My mom continued to have my hearing tested, and hear from teachers that this was certainly something more, but it still took years for them to bother testing how my hearing was with background noise involved. To this day my dad stands by "Selective Hearing" as my issue, just to add salt to that wound. No apology, but why would he ever?
He never apologized even when proven wrong.
An example of that was when the milk had gone bad in the fridge. I had been poured a glass of milk, took a fraction of a sip and spat it back in. "It's bad," I said, and he scoffed at me. "it's not, its a few days old. Drink it." and I was older at this point, still feeling the urge to simply submit, but I knew this milk was bad and of course I was not going to drink it. "It's bad. Try it yourself. Smell it." I said, annoyed but also cautious. He seemed annoyed and came over, clearly expecting to tell me its fine, get over it. He smelled it... and paused. "Huh." he said, then dumped it down the sink drain. "Must have gotten too warm at some point." and that was that. No apology, no acknowledgement of how he wanted me to just drink bad milk. There was an instance of this when I was younger as well, but that one I did drink it.
That was a more minor one of those times. Another was when I was grounded because of a jump rope being wrapped around the ceiling fan of my sister's bedroom, and then the fan was turned on. My dad was yelling for me, his voice was clearly angry. I was confused. I came into my sisters room to see her untangling the jump rope. My dad immediately snapped at me to wipe that look off my face, he knew I did it. He went on about how that can burn out the motor of the fan, his entire behavior screaming anger, aggression. "I didn't do that," I said, confused. I had literally just come over after minding my own business and playing in the living room, and had no idea what was happening. "Go to your room." it was unspoken, but I knew i had to stay there until he forgot. Who knows when that would be- he would never give an end time. Sometimes if I came out after an hour all was fine, sometimes the next day, sometimes a few days. He usually forgot or simply 'moved on' by then, but he never said anything, so i went back to the constant guessing game and the paranoia and anxiety that came with that. If i leave the room now, is it too soon? Will it further my punishment? Worse... will I be yelled at? Because somehow simply being yelled at felt the worst to me.
Years later, my sister admitted she had done it. She was scared, too, and simply said she didn't do it, and was believed. My dad immediately decided it was me, and I was isolated and confused for quite some time. I remember crying because I couldn't understand why that happened. I didn't do anything, he didn't even ask, he didn't believe even my initial honest confusion. He didn't believe my words, either, though he believed my sister it would seem. I was probably only 6 or 7 years old, but I remember going into my room and lying in bed just crying. I remember not wanting to do anything, even when I was probably safe to leave. Depression? I don't know. Reminds me of it, though. I know it felt like a harsh injustice, even if the 'punishment' wasn't anything insane, simple mild isolation.
I guess there are several things with my dad that occurred throughout my youth, more than that even, but there was always good and I do not see him as abusive, I do not see him as anything but a product of his generation. Why should I attribute any of this to my own bullshit? I don't know if its related, but venting it out feels good enough, so I guess that's all for this time, for this topic.
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