Voicelessness and Emotional Survival > Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board
Knew this would happen. Really need advice...
KayZee:
P.R. and Tup, you hit the nail on the head.
--- Quote ---they're 'acting out' being alive instead of actually living (and feeling/relating/thinking etc)
--- End quote ---
I often feel like FOO is a theater troupe or something. NM handed out the roles and the script a million years ago. And if you want to survive in my family, you have to talk like NM, be a good little echo.
Oddly, my childhood home always felt like a stage set. From the outside it was immaculate: big house, manicured lawn, landscaping, the works. But inside, it was dark and see-your-breath freezing cold because NM and D wouldn't "waste" money on heating or the electric bill. You couldn't touch the thermostat or flick on a second bulb to better read by. Meanwhile, there were, like, five expensive flood lights constantly illuminating the facade like it was Disney Land, and my parents were burning money on clothes, cars--costumes and props that their imagined "audience" could see.
Sometimes I think the scapegoat is the one who didn't get the script. But maybe that's a cop-out, because I've always been well aware of my role as the black sheep and often played into it. Anyway, my FOO never gets more enraged than they do when I try to go off script, ad lib, improvise, be authentic, acknowledge my reality, etc.
Life with them feels like some kind of acting exercise and I'm the bad student who can't seem to suspend disbelief and play along. They're there on stage like good aspiring actors, "calling me" the phone and I'm the one who refuses to take my cue. I'm the one saying, "that's not really a telephone....you're just talking into your hand." This doesn't serve their production very well. And they sure don't take kindly to it!
Kay x
sKePTiKal:
--- Quote --- From the outside it was immaculate: big house, manicured lawn, landscaping, the works.
--- End quote ---
THIS is why I'm such a "failure". Gotta be it. I could never, ever, achieve this level of perfection with my house for more than say... 90 seconds. Too busy living life and taking care of the warm-blooded, breathing people in it. Usually this "magic moment" happens in the last hour before company is arriving. Doing my best impression of the Tasmanian Devil, eventually hubs feels "left out" and begins to assist. I rationalize it - say that at least we can start clean... because I know after 30 minutes of welcoming everyone, getting them settled, handing them a drink... that "perfection" is already sliding back to it's normal equilibrium:
hubs pulls out 2-3 magazines from his mystically organized, teetering stacks to share the "latest" with someone
the kid(s) start investigating what kind of toys are in the dog's basket
the dog is still barking, got so excited he peed on the floor
one of us has to take him out
someone asks if I have extra something that they forgot
oops - this kid is hungry
cats are either tearing through the house in panic -- or stealthily sneaking to one of their favorite hiding places
then someone upsets a drink... hubs sets down his magazines where-ever to grab some paper towels... a kid starts howling; stops in less than 5 mins...
then we're off to another space in the house...
letting the road weary stretch, unwind, get their land-legs back...
... and the kid-toys come out... to repose where-ever attention wandered to something else...
and if I'm REALLY into my "hostess-goodie-chick", "good housekeeping" mode... I'll have snacks at hand... dinner's all ready to throw in the oven... and breakfast is pre-made. A lot of times? In reality? That doesn't happen... and we're putting plates of pizza rolls into the microwave.
People don't believe me, when they ask: where does this go? and I say: it doesn't matter... put it where you think it should go and I'll sort it all out later. When I had 4 teenagers in the house -- I learned that this was the trade-off for actually getting some help. Sometimes their ideas of "where this goes" was better than mine... so I kept that arrangement. It's just really so much easier this way... there are no melt-downs... very few scenes or tantrums... no one goes hungry... and if something needs wiped off -- someone does it.
But the house will never make the cover of the "House Beautiful" or be featured on HGTV... those houses have all the "life" edited out of the rooms... nothing personal remains... it's just the bare-bones idea of someone's "concept" or "design" - a stage-set for a paper-doll, 2-D life... it's not a place to curl up under a throw, with a cup o'tea and a cat, and a really good book... and have a nap with my honey.
Until the next batch of company has an ETA.
KayZee:
Oh P.R.,
I'm so relieved to hear you say that! DH and I are exactly the same way. I'd say on an average day, our house is chaotic, cluttered, pretty messy. Doesn't help that we both work from home and have two toddlers; we are all constantly dirtying dishes, spilling drinks, spilling toys, scattering books around.
We'll all pitch in and do a huge clean if we're expecting company, but even then, we have to do it on the morning before our guests' arrival otherwise it just gets washed away like a sandcastle in the tide. It was actually really lucky we were expecting friends on the afternoon NM made her ambush. The house was uncharacteristically clean.
And forget about landscaping! During NM's surprise visit, she, like, surveyed my garden beds. Pointed out my failure to edge them (as if we have time) and lay down new mulch (as if that's where I want to put our limited money), then went on to tell me all about the new trees, and beds, and $400-worth of mulch she and my dad have applied to their lawn this fall (a shocking sum, given they have no jobs, burned through their retirement cash in less than five years, and are living on god knows what).
We are still new homeowners, a young family, so most of our furniture is junk-shopped and Craigslisted. Or it came with the house, and we slapped a fresh coat of paint on it. It's functional. I like that. And also pretty comfortable. And I quite like the feeling of not having anything that I'm too attached to--nothing that would be worth shouting at my kids over if they broke it or smeared it with food or paint. That was a regular in my FOO's house. It was, like, you couldn't touch anything. Even if it was in your room or was quote-unquote yours. Every Christmas when we were small, NM made a big show of "giving" my sister and I these Madame Alexander dolls. We only got to oooh and ahhh over them for a second (while NM held them in her hand), and then she quickly swept them into a locking glass display case. Forget about playing with them, we never even got to touch them. They were just more accessories for NM's "perfect" house.
I just read that book The Narcissism Epidemic and found my favorite chapters were the ones about homeownership and the way Americans live. The authors point out just how much the square-footage of the American family spiked in the past decade or so, how colossal our living spaces are compared to other cultures. Even if the financial crisis and housing collapse have meant people buy smaller homes (no more McMansions), a lot still spend exorbitant sums spanking their cribs out with granite, stainless steel, etc; people go smaller as an excuse to go more luxurious. The authors argue home ownership is still a lot about "show" and superficialities. Do real friends really care if you have trend-conscious curtains? Who cares if you have Viking appliances, just so long as your appliances work?
Here's to "bad housekeeping!" But hopefully good parenting... My kids and DH are so much more important than my weed-ridden bed and offensive wallpaper.
Kay x
sKePTiKal:
LOL... oops... looks like my digression hit a couple of nerves! LOL...
Well, so we're all in the same leaky boat as far as Good Housekeeping Awards are concerned, huh? That's probably a REALLY good sign of health. What you said tt, about realizing you're "not in control" -- THAT'S it, really. The key to what winds up the Tasmanian Devil, too. Like there's something bad about not being in control... like the old witch is gonna come along and punish us or put us down, for not being like her -- master of her universe, making everyone "hop to". I would've tried to find a way, to not be the one deciding what item meant the most to someone else - it's a common thing between hubs & me - I don't want to be responsible for his stuff, couldn't possibly know what matters most to him - so I require at least his participation in the process, though I prefer him to do it himself while I do other things. (That rarely happens.)
Yep; I know about Pex piping. Our very first trip down to this house, with a load of stuff from the old one - we had one of my friends with us. As we walked in the door downstairs and started to unload the truck - she pointed out the ceiling in the kitchen was dripping water. I ran upstairs and tried to guess where the water was coming from - cold water supply in the upstairs kitchen island, where it fed into the faucet. Hubs turned the cut-off, right then, we put dishpans under all the sinks that weekend -- and I still don't have cold water at the island...!!
Kay: I live in a house, in a neighborhood full of houses that are "perfect". Folks here call our house the "pretty house"... it's kinda mediterranean, cruciform layout inside with columns & arches... and palm trees outside. The epitome of McMansion. We use solar lights to create shadows through the palm trees onto the walls of the house. The knee-high grass in the bed I didn't get weeded in the 90+ degree humidity finally all fell over. I have weed-trees to saw out of my property border of hollies. It needs to be cool and dry for me to go back in there. We moved from a non-descript, 2-bed/1-1/2 bath brick rancher that had a finished basement and garage for hubs to die for (and it almost killed him to empty out all his "junk" from there when we moved, too.) I could never, ever in my wildest dreams think that someday I would own a house like this. Big patio out back, pool, separate completely closed in poolhouse, too. That's our "adult play room"... our "bar"... Margaritaville, style. I call it the "Miami Vice" house... but it's transforming into something else right now. Part of that is intentional - design; part of that is just our living in the space and figuring out how we live in it.
The "dirty little secret" about these houses... is that most of us clean them and do the bulk of the yardwork ourselves. And so, when you look beyond the first impression - it's far from "perfect". Look up at vaulted ceilings and you'll be sure to find at least one cobweb. There are some HUGE houses here - over 10,000 sq ft. Makes ours seem puny, except that the upstairs - where we really live - is all open, with bedroom wings separated by a very long and wide hallway and an office. Open plans can become "cluttered" simply by living in them. The folks who do have those "perfect" houses? They don't seem very happy, I've noticed. They have less fun, even, than I do... and I'm supposedly a quiet, withdrawn, inhibited introverted sort. Our kids will come right out & say: you don't HAVE to clean for us!! Don't you DARE kill yourself cleaning - we'll be fine. They are used to and most comfortable in "lived in" spaces and only nervous in the "too perfect", "museum quality" House Beautiful environments where one's afraid to put their feet up. I don't want to do that to people, so I've told the Tasmanian Devil to stuff it, on occasion.
So far, I've taught myself that I don't have to be ashamed of having dirty dishes in the sink and the sink drainer out (yeah, I have a dish washer - but hubs & I don't often make enough dishes dirty to run it - so I just hand wash). I don't have to be ashamed of hubs' stacks of magazines everywhere... so far, no one's even mentioned "you must read alot" yet. If they do, I'll just say they're his - LOL!! If you look at other people's houses -- really look -- you'll see the same thing.
BUT: all this talk of houses reminds me -- my T and I talked a lot about Jungian symbolism; my dreams prompted that. Maybe there's enough in that for a whole separate topic... so when I get a chance... I'll take this digression on over to a new thread and dig through it a little more. It must be I sense an early winter coming on... I'm in full hibernation-nesting mode already. And that sort of turns up the wick on the reflection lamp, too.
KayZee:
((((T.T.))))
I'm so sorry about your supply line. Definitely rest up, take it easy. That clean up job sounds stressful, strenuous. I know what you mean about feeling like it's not under your control. I'm still a pretty new homeowner (been less than a year), but I already feel like this place has a will and a mind of its own!
P.R.,
Your house sounds so beautiful, comfortable, welcoming and calm. I think it's going to be a good long while before DH and I can make our abode beautiful or calm, but in the meantime, we can try for welcoming! When I first started living with DH, I'd get really stressed out about cleaning before anyone came over (still had that mentality from all those years in my FOO's house that everything had to look perfect). Anyway, DH always used to tell me "Don't make it too clean or our friends, family, whoever won't feel comfortable!" I had little idea what he meant at the time, but now I do. There's something really nice about going round someone's house and finding it in its usual state: books scattered, sink full of dishes, messy dinner prep all over the counters; somehow it makes me feel like part of their family. I only hope people who come to my pigsty feel the same!
Kay x
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