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eredienIf you're reading this journal and don't know the book and author, I'd be suprised.
--
So, I had a fun weekend. It rained, and I spent Saturday evening scrubbing the tub with bleach while my mother came home and sat on the sofa watching the Olympics, after people accused me of being a biased reporter. I was snippy with my mother at one point, and later thought better of it--no matter how crappy my week was, I shouldn't have taken it out on her--and apologized, saying "I've just had a rough week."
My mother's response: "Well, on the other side of the fence."
Later: "What have I done, that my children treat me like shit?"
I was tempted to reply, "well, not an awful lot in the way of actual nurturing past the age of six or so," which would have been true, but at that point it was almost midnight, I was covered with bleach, and I had a stinging cut on my leg from where I'd fallen into the bucket. So I didn't press it. I refuse to be petty.
I don't want my mother to think I treat her like shit. I don't want to treat my mother like shit. How is it that one of the people in this world with whom I would most like a lasting and caring relationship seems to be one of the people who most refuses my attempts to connect with her, when I still bother--less and less often, now--to try? It feels pathetic to even try to reach out and I feel like I've personally failed somewhere. Maybe she does, too--that statement makes me wonder if the root cause of all that wasn't anger, but a sense of personal failure on her part--but it still hurt me.
My dad is a little better; he's like the one roommate everyone has in college with whom you get along great with because you never see them. Because of that distance he generally has a better perspective on things. Sometimes that perspective leads him, though, to say things that are true but better left unsaid. I was loading the dishwasher last week, for example, and my mother was correcting me--it was very annoying until my father spoke up and said, "she's an adult, treat her like one." Mom: "I do." Dad: "No, you don't."
I loved him a little for that; it was true, after all. I hugged him for it. And it seemed very reasonable to me.
Until I realized they'd had that argument in the same way two four-year-olds sitting in the car will accuse each other of poking and cooties--and that it was an argument they'd had many times before. Condensed down to a sentence: "won't you step in when I argue like this and confirm that I am the more reasonable parent, who occasionally respects you and your wishes, and therefore loves you more?" I never took sides in that one because I felt it was impossibly evil to even think of asking their children to take sides in that.
Later, I realized that I'd taken sides unintentionally by--of all things on God's green earth--hugging my father to thank him for standing up for me. I still feel sickened by that.
It took me this entire journal entry to realize that coming to terms with the fact that the many emotions of self-disgust and hatred I've felt--especially over this past week and weekend--were and are mine to deal with, but were not necessarily caused by me. Which I had been thinking was the case and blaming myself for, for years. I think I should lay the blame squarely where it belongs:
- I am not meant to live with a father who does not make promises anymore because he has never kept a single one to me.
- I am not meant to live with a mother who speaks out of fourteen sides of her mouth.
- I am not meant to live with a family that believes hitting children until they are near-mad with fear will make up for five years' worth of effectively not being there.
- I am not meant to live with a family that shows, through actions, that they believe their children are able to live on their own once they reach a certain age, while saying through words that their children are capable of doing nothing correctly.
- I am not willing or meant to live with people who show such a lack of kindness because their ears do not take time to hear, their speech is harmful to others, their actions are slothful, and who, through these things, have trod down their own souls.
I refuse to be petty. I refuse to knowingly speak harmful things. I will teach myself how to love.
That's better.
--
So, I had a fun weekend. It rained, and I spent Saturday evening scrubbing the tub with bleach while my mother came home and sat on the sofa watching the Olympics, after people accused me of being a biased reporter. I was snippy with my mother at one point, and later thought better of it--no matter how crappy my week was, I shouldn't have taken it out on her--and apologized, saying "I've just had a rough week."
My mother's response: "Well, on the other side of the fence."
Later: "What have I done, that my children treat me like shit?"
I was tempted to reply, "well, not an awful lot in the way of actual nurturing past the age of six or so," which would have been true, but at that point it was almost midnight, I was covered with bleach, and I had a stinging cut on my leg from where I'd fallen into the bucket. So I didn't press it. I refuse to be petty.
I don't want my mother to think I treat her like shit. I don't want to treat my mother like shit. How is it that one of the people in this world with whom I would most like a lasting and caring relationship seems to be one of the people who most refuses my attempts to connect with her, when I still bother--less and less often, now--to try? It feels pathetic to even try to reach out and I feel like I've personally failed somewhere. Maybe she does, too--that statement makes me wonder if the root cause of all that wasn't anger, but a sense of personal failure on her part--but it still hurt me.
My dad is a little better; he's like the one roommate everyone has in college with whom you get along great with because you never see them. Because of that distance he generally has a better perspective on things. Sometimes that perspective leads him, though, to say things that are true but better left unsaid. I was loading the dishwasher last week, for example, and my mother was correcting me--it was very annoying until my father spoke up and said, "she's an adult, treat her like one." Mom: "I do." Dad: "No, you don't."
I loved him a little for that; it was true, after all. I hugged him for it. And it seemed very reasonable to me.
Until I realized they'd had that argument in the same way two four-year-olds sitting in the car will accuse each other of poking and cooties--and that it was an argument they'd had many times before. Condensed down to a sentence: "won't you step in when I argue like this and confirm that I am the more reasonable parent, who occasionally respects you and your wishes, and therefore loves you more?" I never took sides in that one because I felt it was impossibly evil to even think of asking their children to take sides in that.
Later, I realized that I'd taken sides unintentionally by--of all things on God's green earth--hugging my father to thank him for standing up for me. I still feel sickened by that.
It took me this entire journal entry to realize that coming to terms with the fact that the many emotions of self-disgust and hatred I've felt--especially over this past week and weekend--were and are mine to deal with, but were not necessarily caused by me. Which I had been thinking was the case and blaming myself for, for years. I think I should lay the blame squarely where it belongs:
- I am not meant to live with a father who does not make promises anymore because he has never kept a single one to me.
- I am not meant to live with a mother who speaks out of fourteen sides of her mouth.
- I am not meant to live with a family that believes hitting children until they are near-mad with fear will make up for five years' worth of effectively not being there.
- I am not meant to live with a family that shows, through actions, that they believe their children are able to live on their own once they reach a certain age, while saying through words that their children are capable of doing nothing correctly.
- I am not willing or meant to live with people who show such a lack of kindness because their ears do not take time to hear, their speech is harmful to others, their actions are slothful, and who, through these things, have trod down their own souls.
I refuse to be petty. I refuse to knowingly speak harmful things. I will teach myself how to love.
That's better.
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(no subject)
30/8/04 12:15 (UTC)And that's relavent because I believe that family can be created and is not necessarily the people who share your genes.
Kit L. is my sister. That's all that really matters in our relationship and it doesn't matter that we don't share genes.
My mom is a roommate and not a mother. It helps our relationship a lot when I believe that.
(no subject)
30/8/04 12:26 (UTC)Always good to analyse your feelings every once in a while. Though, for all that, I am sorry that you have to deal with some of that. Both in the past and on an ongoing basis.
Hey... maybe we can perhaps get together in the Philly area when I'm down there sometime?
Zhai'helleva!
<hugs>
30/8/04 13:21 (UTC)If it's at all feasible, you're welcome to visit me over Labor Day. Or whenever. Independence Air flys out of Syracuse. And Albany. And of course, you're more than welcome to call- if you want, you can call/IM and I'll call, as my long distance is free.
Love you. And Laurel's right- family can be something you choose. And while we're choosing our own families, I choose you to be part of mine.
(no subject)
30/8/04 13:24 (UTC)Especially with the last line, I feel like I have read something profound and moving. I wish you all luck in all the best possible ways.
-Ghost
*snugs*
30/8/04 13:58 (UTC)It only reaffirms the wonderful soul I've always seen peeking out, when spending time with you. *bighothugs* And it's why I've always been proud of you deciding to be a part of my chosen family.
Continue to live, laugh and love; and your presense will be a beacon for anyone who shares a moment of life's journey with you.
(no subject)
30/8/04 15:13 (UTC)Love is not a skill, but a cultivated emotion that affects both and all individuals involved. While I can't stand the presence of my father, I still love him to death. There are many moral issues that I'll not go into here on why I essentially have a love/hate relationship, but I hang on to the former of those two emotions, and try to forget the latter.
Communication is something that no one is perfect at. Regardless of how hard we all try, we all say (or present) things that are better left unsaid. Remeber the mistakes, but don't try to hang onto the mixed emotions of looking at them with hindsight. Hindsight is quoted at being 20/20, although it gets even better with time; but it all reflects things that have already happened, things that can't be changed. I guess what I'm trying to say, is learn from your mistakes, but don't hold on to the emotions (baggage) that they bring. You'll carry less of a mental load around with you.
You have benefitted from the experience that your family brought you. Your family need not be who is attached genetically - except for legal purposes. But, IMHO, it is better to suffer, and learn from that suffering, and grow, than to not see that side of the fence, ever, and be characteristically (?) hollow, and unable to face abuse and contention when you see it.
It is good to be good, and to hold to your ideals, and then also have the intestinal fortitude to deal with those that are like the family you learned from not on their level, but, from one that stops their harmful ways by turning their tables a little bit - taking them out of their 'comfort zones.'
Whew. That's all. I think.
(no subject)
30/8/04 17:09 (UTC)But I must say, I'm unconvinced about the apparent assertion that abuse and suffering bring benefits. This isn't the place for a detailed discussion of the matter, but suffice to say, people are not necessarily hollow or weak if they haven't been through them -- quite the reverse, on occasion -- and there are definitely better ways to grow as a person. <:)
(no subject)
31/8/04 06:13 (UTC)(no subject)
30/8/04 16:58 (UTC)Given that, I can entirely understand the decline in your desire to connect with her. I simply ignore my father when he's in a bad mood because, no matter what I say, he's always right. Fortunately he's not always thus, but it sounds like your mother has a similar attitude more or less constantly. While it might at times be tempting to have a bit of a rant and set the record straight, I'm pretty sure it would make no difference, therefore. She would simply regard any tirade from you as "being treated like shit" once more -- and studiously ignore the actual content of your complaints.
I don't actually think the act of setting her straight would be petty, FWIW -- if there were any chance she would actually listen. But given her likely reaction, the discussion would quickly descend into pettiness on someone's part, I suspect. So no criticism from me for avoiding the confrontation.
As for your father, naive ol' me would probably have given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he was just sticking up for me, rather than scoring points as well. But you know him and his relationship with your mother -- I don't. From what I've read in your journal, you approach this whole issue with enough maturity and good sense that I can take what you say as pretty accurate. With that in mind, I can only agree that expecting one's children to take sides against the other parent is wholly unfair.
I didn't realise till you mentioned it that fear of violence was an issue in your family. You very much have my sympathy there -- my mother faced something similar, and her assertiveness and confidence as an adult suffered greatly in consequence. In my view, you're entirely justified in rejecting parents who rely on such things, who show virtually no support for their children and who cannot be straight with one another.
Deciding to leave such things behind, and learn to love properly is the noblest of goals. I'd say you're already a goodly way there, but if you ever need a bit of support I -- and, I suspect, the others who've read this post in full -- would be more than willing to offer it.
(no subject)
31/8/04 13:17 (UTC)Shrink school will presently be telling me all kinds of things about how people's families make them what they are. If I'm lucky, and my school is as good as I think it is, it'll also tell me about how people make THEMSELVES what they are, no matter what their parents do. Because I think we can choose that. We can learn to do the opposite of what our parents do, or we can learn to do something completely different and out of their way of thinking. And I think you can do that very well.
Love.
Ruth.
(no subject)
31/8/04 21:40 (UTC)I have an inkling (and only an inkling, mind you,) of what you're saying.
All I can say is that's why we form our own families.
I would be honored if you would permit me to become part of yours.
(no subject)
11/9/04 02:21 (UTC){hug}
I hope you find your peace.