A long, long hiatus

I'm not even sure if anyone is still reading this blog. I've neglected it as the downs became much to heavy to deal with on a regular basis.

Seems my bright idea to use this as a sort of therapy, fell a little flat and brought up so many feelings and thoughts that I hadn't had since my teenage days.

I do have some good news in all this - while I'm still suffering headaches quite a bit, I've run across a long time friend who I thought I would see or hear from again. My heart swelled as I found this person again.

I don't think I need to tell any one of you how hard it is for me to take someone into my trusted circle (that sounded overly sappy and I'm really sorry for that!) but that I also have a hard time dealing with the reality that maybe people don't see me the same as I see myself. I'm still my worst critic and as much as I'd like to think that I'm worthy of attention, love, respect and a happy life.... I still struggle to think that way.

All I can say now is that I'm happier now then I've been in SO long.. it's almost like I'm in a dream and I am fearful that the other shoe will drop and snap me back to the reality that I've grown accustomed to - living with disappointment and just 'being'.

**I'm hoping to change that - I want to LIVE and I want to be HAPPY.........

A revisit --- and how I came up with the name for this blog...

Dinnertime, car riding and a reflex I still have

Having dinner as a kid was (as I realize now) a not pleasant experience. At the time, I thought it was what it was... dinnertime.

As kids, we all sat in the kitchen at the table to eat dinner. My parents never joined us unless it was a holiday or something else where it required them to eat with us (friends over, ect..).

My folks would sit in the living room with TV trays and eat while watching TV. Me, my sister and my brother would all sit around the table and we'd always 'fight' over who would sit on the side that the back faced the opening into the kitchen.

See, the table was oval and the one 'long' side faced the window but then your back was exposed to the doorway where my father would walk through from the living room.

If us kids were talking or if he even thought we were up to no good, he'd walk through that door and "clock" whomever was the unfortunate one to be sitting in that spot. I guess he thought he'd just take it out on whomever was closest?

To this very day, if my dad or other over bearing person or even just someone who is loud or walks heavy, etc... walks behind me, I still will physically and unconsciously flinch and almost duck - closing my eyes and slightly leaning forward as if to dodge a wayward ball coming toward my head. It's a reflex to trying to get away from getting knuckled to the back of the head without warning. It happened more than I can count and honestly if I did count, it'd probably make me sick to my stomach.

Same with car rides.

Three kids, a back seat. One had to sit smack in the middle and that was the most undesirable place in the car.
Whoever sat there, would surely 'get it' whenever my dad got a wild hair to smack the shit out of someone because in his mind, we were being too loud (IE: talking) or because another person pissed him off and since he couldn't hit THEM, he'd hit us.

Story of our lives.

So whichever one of us 'got' the middle, we were the easiest to reach and he could manuever the car and beat the living snot out of whoever sat in that spot. The person directly behind him could duck and lean toward the door and naturally, the person sitting behind my mom.. that was the preemo seat. Too far to reach - at least while the car was moving.

Again, I now avoid back seats like the plague and even riding with someone if they start to get a bit PO'd because some wanker cut them off in traffic, I feel queasy and anxious even though I'm sitting up front.

So many things have an impact and we don't even realize it....

Struggling with some things...

You know, I think that sometimes I take such a long break or lose my will to post is because I feel like all I do is whine. Seriously. I was raised with the 'stop complaining/crying and buck up!' mentality. So instead of sharing, I tend to head the polar opposite way and just clam up.

Well, Father's Day has come and gone (thank GOD)... I always feel a bit guilty about not wanting to even acknowledge that particular day... after all, I still have that "he's my dad" thing going on in my head.. you know?

What's even stranger is that I still see my parents. It's hard for me to act "normal" around them.. especially when I'm trying to purge myself of all this abuse garbage. I sometimes feel like I'm just a glutton for punishment and that somehow.. I enjoy the 'walking on eggshells' feeling I STILL to this day get.. otherwise, I'd tell them to piss off and I'd move on.

I don't know if I'm willing to do that just yet... whether or not that's because I'm still emotionally immature or because I'm foolishly holding on to hope that we can all heal and move on.

Knowing that all of us will eventually die and then things that are said and revealed.. will fall upon deaf ears... but really.. what's the difference between someone being dead and someone being in denial?

What is "normal"?

Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder if I'm putting too much stock into being 'normal'. What is "NORMAL", anyway?

For example, people always say things like, "I'm truly happy now".... as compared to what? How does a person measure happiness? I know I have moments of happy, but to say that one is walking around 'happy now'? I don't get it.

Just like normal. Who's to say that I'm not perfectly normal and that everyone else is 'off'? Who is to say that the people that grew up without ever being struck or emotionally ripped apart are the ones who aren't normal?

Forgive me please, for I am rambling a bit. These are thoughts I have every now and then when the house is dark and quiet. The moments when I'm truly alone in my own head and sometimes, it's not a pleasant place to be.

I find myself being utterly resentful of the people who grew up without so much as a slap on the wrist when they made a mistake... although my logical side says that it's illogical to feel resentment toward a person because they grew up in a NORMAL home.

The thing I'm finding to be disheartening is that I don't know if the feelings I have about myself and the world around me are NORMAL or if I'm being narrow minded because my 'spin' on the world was clouded by things that I could not at one time, control.

Does that make sense?

Wow.. I really internalize things way too much

It's times like these, that I really can't stand myself. If I had the means to, I'd punch myself square in the face until I passed out, because I can't stand to be around people like me and I HATE being like THIS.

I read something and immediately turn that into a, "Why don't they like me" or basically a pity party for myself. I constantly measure myself against others and I turn into this needy... UGH! I can't stand it!

Seriously. I wonder if I'm ever going to be NORMAL and stop being a blubbering idiot that wears her heart on her sleeve. I wish I could be tougher and not some sniveling weenie.. which is what I feel like. I feel weak, undeserving and foolish.

Concrete Angel... can we rise above?

When you least expect it, some not-so-pleasant thoughts come rushing back.

A few days ago something happened at the school where I work. One of the male teachers has a very difficult class this year. I personally feel it's a combination of having too many behavioral problems in his class and his lack of classroom management.. but I guess that's beside the point.

I was walking between buildings when I saw two students huddled on the sidewalk with a stick. I called out to them and asked what they were doing. They had a small snake there and was poking it with a stick. Now if you're thinking what I was thinking, "It's a harmless garter (?) snake".. well, it wasn't.

It was a baby, but it was trying it's damndest to take a bite out of one of those kids.

So, I took the stick from one of the boys and told them to get Mr. XXXXX. I figured maybe he could find a five gallon bucket and place it over the snake because this just happened to be in a place where kindergarten students walked through.

I'm standing there with this mean and quite mad snake, holding a stick and keeping my distance just in case any more students wandered along... and suddenly the doors burst open and about 6 students rushed out.

They all rushed toward me like they were on a mission.. all babbling, "Where's the snake.. let's see it!" I held up my left arm and told them to back off, and get back to class. That's when their teacher... Mr. NoClassroomManagement comes out and YELLS at them. Now, when I say YELLS, I don't mean just raised his voice.. I mean he yelled.

Something inside me just froze and I could feel myself lean forward and cover my head. It was so embarrassing... I had this pissed off snake trying to bite me, I'm weakly holding a stick and then I look like I just had a brain aneurysm because I'm 'ducking and covering' certain that I was about to have the shit knocked out of me.



Then I have students asking me, "What's wrong!?" and Mr. NCM starts yelling even more at them to leave me alone.... and I feel like I'm back at home and my dad is screaming at me right before he started swinging and hitting me upside the head. I started crying and didn't even realize it until the principal was summoned and found me outside bawling like a baby.

I haven't had a trigger for years, and then suddenly I was thrust back to a time where I was around 12 years old... it took me by surprise so much, that now I'm almost afraid that it will happen again.

See, I don't really want the people I work with to know about my past. I just feel as though it's embarrassing as hell. I tried to explain it to one co-worker a few years ago (when I worked for a bank) and she looked at me like I was telling her these things, just to gain some sympathy or some such crap.

I wish that people would just realize how hard it is to admit that your parent(s) are less than perfect and in fact, sometimes they are almost monster like. Even though I know now that none of the horrible stuff that happened to me or my siblings was MY fault.. it's still embarrassing and I guess a small piece of me still wonders if maybe I had done "x" just a little differently... maybe it wouldn't have set him off.

Why in the world would a person share such horrible things with another for only sympathy? Hell... I would have taken a better childhood in lieu of living with this shit any day! Much as I know anyone who's been through similar stuff would as well.

Sticks and Stones

As an adult, it seems the most prevalent memories I have from my childhood are negative.

I'm not sure if that's because the majority of events that took place were negative or if it's because the negative makes a bigger impact on memory than good? I think I remember hearing years ago (I'll have to research it) that for every negative experience a child is subjected to, it takes 4 times as many positive experiences to compensate - to provide a balance, if you will.

I've spoken previously about the physical that's gone on and while that's an important part of the person I am today, the things that had the much bigger impact on me (and I'm sure on my siblings as well) was the verbal messages we received. Every day.

At least the physical violence didn't happen every single day.. but the verbal (dare I say) abuse happened daily.

I tried to explain to my husband years ago, when we sought marriage counseling, that just because he tells me that I'm smart, beautiful and a good person... I wouldn't automatically believe it - he had to show me.. which he never seemed capable or willing to do.

Adding up the negativity of years and years of being told:

• You're stupid!
• You'll never amount to anything!
• What am I raising.. a slut?!
• Whore!
• Dumbass! Jesus H. Christ you're stupid!
  
• You are so irresponsible and lazy!
• Pig!
  
• I can't believe how stupid you are!
• You know how much you embarrass me!?
  
• Once again, another disappointment from you....
• I wish you'd never been born...

This was and is, very hard for him to grasp. I'm not a person unworthy of being loved - or am I?

I've lived my entire life trying to "make" my parents be proud of me. Just to take back one of the things they used to say daily.

I had been working at a bank. A man came in to make a deposit to his account and I recognized him. He was a man that had worked with my dad for years. I spoke to him briefly and didn't say much more to him.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and this guy came back in and came right to my window. He told me he had mentioned to my dad that, "I ran into ********* at XYZ bank a couple of weeks ago." My dad told him, "Oh yeah... that was my first mistake."

I finished waiting on him and had to excuse myself. My supervisor looked at me and knew something was wrong.. she had said all the color drained from my face. I promptly locked myself in the bathroom... and cried.

Even in my adult life, I have sought to try and gain some kind of acceptance - especially from my father. In the process, I feel as though I don't really know myself. Which to me, is the worst thing of all of this.

I look into the mirror and have no idea of the core that makes up *me*.

The next time someone uses the children's saying:

Sticks and stones may break my bones --- but words will never hurt me.


Tell them how wrong they are.

It should be:

Sticks and stones may break my bones ---- and words will surely haunt me.