Another manipulative surprise...

I am fuming. My father is trying to weasel his way back AGAIN. After what he said about my daughter! After disowning my family! A package arrived from him for my daughter yesterday. After he said he wanted nothing to do with her!!!! This is so messed up, I can't believe it. What is this man thinking? That a ten-month old can open a package without her parents knowing about it??? That after what has happened, that her parents would even allow his manipulative gestures to affect her??? And I just love the way he goes about this--he can smugly say to himself that he was just being nice, just giving her a gift. After all, if a person criticizes a gift, who looks bad--the giver or the refuser??? This is the kind of manipulative shit he's pulled all my life, making me doubt my own feelings and being consumed by guilt. After all, I must be the bad one to refuse or be angry about a gift! It's what came beforehand that makes all the difference. It's his words, "it is ----'s loss that her grandfather won't be in her life." This is a pretty typical narcissistic ploy, is it not? Can anyone confirm this for me?

In other areas, this Christmas is turning out not to be what I had hoped. My daughter has been sick for a month with a double ear infection, and somehow I have ended up with one, too. Dh has been sick as well. I've given up on trying to go to work right now because I simply can't cope with all of this at once. Whatever happens with that will happen. I can't do more than I am capable, and I finally hit my limit.


My daughter has decided to self-wean, and in a futile attempt to preserve our bond in case she wants it back soon, I am working very hard. But my body knows and is deciding to take matters into its own hands, so to speak. I am grieving the loss of this, and it hurts to watch her draw closer to her father. Sometimes when I pick her up, she cries and reaches out for him. It just breaks my heart and I run upstairs and cry. I haven't been as available for her as I wish I could be, having been sick all this time--seven infections in ten months. I thought this might be the case, as I knew I was not physically strong enough to handle pregnancy, birth, recovery, and nine months of breastfeeding without some major problems. I wish I were stronger, but it is what it is, right? At least she's here, safe, and getting the most we can possibly give her. We love her more than anything in the world.

Coming up for breath

I saw this quote recently:

There's a point in your life when you get tired of trying to fix everything and trying to make everyone happy. When you finally decide to quit, it's NOT giving up. It's realizing you don't need certain people and the bullshit they bring to your life.

It was nice to see this publically posted and I found it validating. My father sent a birthday card recently. I'm too tired to deal with emotional games, and for the first time in my life, I simply tore the envelope up, without looking at it. I didn't wait for my husband to read it for me, or feel guilty, or even wonder if I was tearing up a check or gift card. I just did it. JUST DID IT. Feels good.

That was number one. My sister did something similar with an email, and I wrote back a quick "thanks" and left it at that. I miss her, but I won't be playing games with her, either. And while I was at this, I decided to prune my "friends" who aren't truly friends. If the ratio of give to receive is tilted too far to either extreme, I've had enough. I really am worn out from being a mother, and I only want people who are able to maintain balance in their lives to be a part of mine. So, I am pruning the list down to the essentials: my wonderful husband, my adorable daughter, my long-time ACOA friends, my dear close relatives, any close friends who can honestly, authentically practice the art of friendship and isn't using me for a specific purpose, and my long-time lover.

Who, by the way, is continuing to shock me. He was standing by, patiently, listening to my crazy stories and understanding what I was going through all this time, over three years, maybe four by now. He's been waiting until I was ready---until WE were ready--and it's as if lightening struck and shook my world. Blessed, blessed release.

A lesson this has taught me is that eloquent words without the fortitude to back them up ring hollow. Quiet depth and patience wins out every time. Never overlook the patient man of few words; there is likely more depth to him that the ocean is deep. As strange and unconventional as this sounds, we are on a carnal journey together, one which has the blessing of my husband, and seems to have been written long before it began. 

The Consequence of Being One's Self

I have a happy baby. How in the world did that happen? She smiles every morning when she wakes up. She is not fussy, except when she needs to tell us something like "I'm hungry." The daycare providers say she is a calm baby, unlike some in the room. My greatest wish for her is to be happy. It's comforting to know that we must be doing something right; that I must be controlling my depression adequately and not taking my frustration and fear and insecurities out on her. Maybe, just maybe, I am different from my dad! Only time will tell.

I've been thinking... the difference between me and others is that I know I am dysfunctional. I know I have issues, I know what they are, and I am SELF-AWARE. I realize I am supremely imperfect and am willing to admit it. I am working to self-correct, but I know I need help to do it. Yes, I have experienced sex and love addiction and destructive codependency, but I am actively trying to get better. The people who judge and criticize me most likely aren't very self-aware and probably aren't cognizant of the dysfunction swirling around them. It's a difficult and dangerous task, rising above the dysfunction that's got a chokehold on you. It's a life-threatening decision to take. Some of us can't bear the consequences, I suppose.

The consequence of allowing myself to be ME and breaking out of the primary dysfunctional system has been abandonment. It's a tough price to pay. Let me tell you, I miss my sister and I mourn the lost opportunity to watch my nephew grow. It has left a hole in my heart. But, the hole in my spirit was more potent and would have been the death of me. I hate being forced to make choices like this, but perhaps I ought to be grateful, for I am alive and am making a wholesome life for myself and my family for the very first time.

Fear of parenting

I think children from dysfunctional families probably experience more fear at the thought of parenting than do people who were not raised in this type of environment- mostly because of the terror of repeating their parents' mistakes and the lack of a role model to have learned appropriate parenting skills from. That was certainly the case for me, and why I let the sex problem build to such an unmanageable state. Pregnancy was always a possibility if I had sex (despite birth control) and I wouldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't promise to protect my child if I ended up being like dad. I knew enough to know I didn't have the self-wisdom and determination to be different, then. Looking back, I had so much growing to do- not necessarily growing up, but expanding. So many unconscious forces to become aware of, self-loathing to be tamed, forgiveness to be felt, rage to be expressed...thank God for my convoluted and unconventional road. At 40, I finally felt like I had done enough work to not ruin any potential child's life.

Waiting was the best thing I ever did.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Family secrets

 Identifying that one has been covertly (or emotionally) incested is difficult because direct sexual contact does not occur in these situations--and I believe, in our (American) culture, that anything other than the "real deed" is considered to be a figment of an overly sensitive person's over-active imagination. This is why I doubted myself for so long. I still do.    Sometimes I think that I am making a big deal out of nothing....but I realize that is the voice of the guilt I still feel and what members of my family of origin want me to believe. When I recall my experiences of psychosomatic illness; chronic, severe depression; constant anxiety and vigilance; suicidal thoughts, and past sexual dysfunction in my relationships, I now understand that these are not "normal" behaviors.  Nor is secretly running off in the dead of night to a foreign country and staying for two years until guilt overwhelmed me. Nor is having difficulty making friends and having no hobbies or career interests until I cut off all contact with my father, over ten years ago. Once I did that, I magically became interested in the world outside of "him and me" and started discovering what made me content and invigorated. Ten years, and I was able to repair my sexual relationship and finally bear a child.

The sexual "side effects" of covert incest, that is a whole other story I will get into later. Let me just say that at least my father had enough boundary sense not to violate explicit sexual limits, thank God.  I have recently learned, however, that overt incest is present on his side of the family, it happened to my dearest relative, and my personal theory is that covert incest occurs in families in which overt incest has previously occurred in some form; the atmosphere is charged with a sexual, enmeshed, boundariless energy that seems "normal." 

In fact, I did have an unfortunate sexual experience with a cousin on that side--molestation, I might call it. What do you call performing a sexual act that your heart says is wrong because you want to please the person? A first cousin, who I trusted and thought cared about me. This memory did not surface until recently, as well, but I have always experienced a highly charged erotic feeling around this cousin and could not understand it. This feeling caused me such shame over the years--what a sick person I was for having sexually charged thoughts about this first cousin. And why was I so shy around him, why did I feel so "violated" and "ashamed" when I was alone with him in later years, even for a few minutes. I was so uncomfortable in his presence, well, it was hard to tolerate. And the sadder and sicker part is that this cousin was my father's FAVORITE nephew. His FAVORITE person, like a son to him. Why was I surprised that this person would have been the one who violated me sexually? They were both, as I have come to learn, narcissists in the extreme and ended up estranged because, in my opinion, they couldn't cope with how alike they were! It makes me sick to my stomach, the whole thing.

I think this is enough for today. Trying to dredge up and clear out the past while struggling day-to-day to be a normal, healthy parent for my young daughter is turning out to be the challenge of a lifetime. I am determined to give her the life I wished I had, though, at whatever cost.

One Girl as a Projection

A sad fact of this world is that oftentimes people see you how they WANT to see you, not as you really are. I suspect my family of origin was unconsciously looking for one member to place all their guilt, anger, and shame on--the scapegoat as it were. They wanted to see this member as a sick individual, the one who gives away the family secrets, the one who shuts the rest out, who doesn't listen, is unreasonable and one-sided in her thinking, and shuns the others for no apparent reason. So, here is the sensitive daughter, the frightened, timid member, and they projected all of this onto her and ensured it played out exactly as they had imagined. She has lived up to their "expectations." A fulfilled prophesy. Funny how that works, huh?

 

I became the ogre who shunned the others. The bad girl who hurt them all. The guilty one.

I have become this nightmare of a horrible person to them; I am a mix of all the negative traits these family members individually possessed, rolled into one unpalatable package.

A lifetime of being pushed and shoved and having others' thoughts, feelings, opinions stuffed down my throat, well, yes, I did FINALLY stand up for myself--after forty fucking years! How dare I stand up for myself in this family? Feel my own emotions, speak my own views, have my own opinions? How dare I defy the status quo? Change and not be the pushover I always have been? BETRAYAL! BITCH! SICK!

Only no one, except five people, view me this way. Everyone else knows a loving, sweet, sensitive, funny, yet hurting, aching human being. A thoroughly vulnerable, mistake-making, imperfect human.  If I were such an ogre, wouldn't I have been abandoned by friends and husband long ago? Would my mate have stayed with me despite everything for twenty years and counting? Would wonderful recovery siblings have continually encouraged me during my struggles? Would many of my relationships still have shifted and evolved yet remained strong and comforting? Would my work colleagues still have donated amazingly generous amounts of time when I ran out of sick days during my maternity leave? Would a few cousins still determinedly keep an eye on me to make sure I am okay? If I were so nasty, so horrid, such a sick individual, wouldn't be I completely alone by now?

Blogging is "sick"?

 My husband sweetly offered to take the baby and sent me out to the Starbucks cafe, bless his soul. I wanted to write a bit and he understood that.

DH was trying to protect me from the nastiness the family's discovery of my previous blog-and he did a good job. I asked him point blank what was said to him, though, (my husband was dealing with them all so I could focus on my newborn and the ppd), and apparently my brother-in-law said my blog was "sick." Sick? Do you think it was sick? Writing my feelings and impressions in my own web journal is sick? My sister said it was one-sided, without giving my father a chance to defend himself. Well, this is the man who denies any abuse whatsoever. And since when is anyone allowed to comment on and judge someone else's feelings and experiences? My feelings are my own, not to be tossed at anyone's feet to be judged and shamed. Now my mother is telling me that I shouldn't be writing personal things on the web and indirectly implying that this whole business was my fault. And that what happened when I was young was the responsibility of "all of us." Since when was a child responsible for her abuse? I watched my own child as I thought this; I looked in her innocent eyes and the absurdity of that remark made me want to cry.

We had a wonderful visit with my in laws this weekend; everyone was happy and excited about our child. She has wonderful grandparents and great aunts. However, the beauty of this visit brought home the fact that this isn't the case in my own family. I wanted peace with them so much. I tried so hard. And then found out they were spying and tracking me on the web and used what I wrote to "prove" what a sick and demented person I am. My father then said he feels sorry for my daughter because she won't know him. What an ego! How dare he bring my daughter into this. She is innocent. I love her. She is mine, and what she gets to experience is up to me and her, not this man.

I will  never again censor myself just so family secrets can be kept under wraps or because I am shamed into it. This is my medium and I thrive here. I KNOW I am not the only person to keep a personal blog, for crying out loud, and I hope to make friends with people like myself in this forum.

It does feel good to be sitting here, typing my feelings out again. I've missed blogging.