This thread may contain strong language, scenes of a sexual nature, violent imagery and will mostly consist of words. In (UK) English, mostly, probably. Si!
Problem: dealing with feelings and with half-wit people. Solution: work it through, analyse the problem, decide on course of action, or alternative courses of action, and act. Modify actions depending upon reactions of others. Keep a close watch on own emotional and intellectual reactions.
Current emotional condition: starting to admit feelings of being dishonest in not confronting mother. Wondering if it is possible to work through the anger and grief without ever stating that I have changed. Carrying on with the lies, the false reality. Yes, of course it’s possible to do this: I have to be the grown-up. There is no alternative there. Okay, but that doesn’t mean I have to pamper the child (or children). It doesn’t mean I’m the grown-up at my expense. It means I get to behave in an adult manner, even if others don’t. So let’s decide on an adult course of action.
Facts: mother’s brother telephones me on my mobile phone last night while I’m cooking. This is probably the second time he’s telephoned me in our lives (although I’ve called him a few times). We’re both “okay”, he wants a chat but “everything is alright”. He says he’s called me on the mobile because the land-line is “always engaged”. I tell him that’s because either me or my partner are on the internet. And that’s why I have a mobile, so people can ring me. I say I’m cooking and I’ll call him back in 15 minutes.
Alert: my mother has complained that she can’t get hold of me because I’m always on the internet, or engaged. He’s repeating her words. He doesn’t own a PC. Where did he get my mobile number? Maybe I gave it to him; unlikely. Maybe my mother, or father, gave it to him.
I call him back. He tells me about his new year. They (mother and he) went to Glasgow, to a posh hotel, for the weekend, along with a singles group. Visited Edinburgh on a coach trip. All very enjoyable. I ask why go to Scotland in the winter when it’s dark and cold? He says it wasn’t in the hotel. This befuddles my brain. I’m a logical, rational introvert. To enjoy myself I go south in the winter, I enjoy the outdoors, travel, scenery. I might go to Glasgow if you paid me, but it wouldn’t be my choice. Anyway, they ‘enjoyed’ it, so good luck to them. I’d like to understand what’s enjoyable about it, but I know if I ask I’ll be seen probably as critical. Which I am. I don’t think these people have a clue how to enjoy themselves. But that’s not my problem and I won’t comment. I tell him we’ve both been ill here over the holidays. And mention I got an email from mother saying she’d been ill too. I say that she’s probably caught it from [one of her boyfriends], who just spent a week working in London before he then went to stay with her. It’s a London bug, I’m convinced of it.
So what does he want? Under all this false heap of shit that passes as communication, what does he want from me? He asks if I’m working, talks about money (his views on it), talks about what he might do if he needs some spare cash (he doesn’t need it). Says he thinks he could work with “mentally ill” people. Tells me a couple of jokes. Asks me “will you give your mum a ring?”.
[ :shock:WHAT?] “Is she alright?” [visions of hospital beds etc spring to mind.] Oh yes, he tells me. Only she hasn’t heard from you. “I’ve got a mobile phone, yes I’m on the internet a lot, that’s why I’ve got a mobile so people can call me. She can call me if she wants to.” He makes a sound like he’s smiling in embarrassment. What does that sound like? If you know, you know, if you don’t, you don’t. I know. I give in, I can’t think of what else to do. “Okay I’ll call her tomorrow. In fact I might call you tomorrow as well, are you around?” Yes he will be. He sounds a bit ‘happier’.
I AM FURIOUS. I don’t verbalise it in an angry way. Watch the tv. Have a conversation. I could just ignore them both. Yeah that’s an option. Good point. Go to bed.
Today I’m furious! What bullshit manipulative fuck-wit piece of crap is this heading my way?
Why won’t people just leave me alone?? Leave me alone!!
Bad daughter! Bad girl! Rotten person! You should call your ‘Mother’. Mommy needs you. Mommy wonders what’s ‘wrong’. Mommy feels neglected. Mommy is missing supply. Yeah. I know. I got the email. All three boyfriends are out of action. This is my problem?
Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe ….. facts. Fact. He spoke to my father two days ago. Aha. Maybe they discussed my mother? Maybe some conversation there prompted him to call me?
What a waste of time. Why do I have to waste my time on this?
Why doesn’t she call me (if she wants to)? Is she scared of calling me? (That’s a recent thought of mine. That she’s scared of me now. Because I’m not dumb any more. But of course…..it’s probably nonsense. It simply paints me as another version of a ‘bad’ person, a potentially harmful person. Only I know that. Only I know me. Only I know that I’m capable of a ground zero moment. People should be more careful around me! I have a big potential for truth-telling and that ain’t pretty. It’s not nice. It’s not always productive. Truth-telling involves emotions, like anger and grief.) Is she scared of me? She’s scared of the truth perhaps. Or perhaps not. No, of course not. There would be only one casualty I feel. Me. Or maybe not?
How much can you hurt stupid people?
I will not be told what to do. I’m being asked to do something. But I’m actually being told.
Nobody in this interaction gives a flying fuck about what I feel. As usual. How about asking me a question. “Have you called her recently? Why not?”
Mental health indeed.
Give me a b-r-e-a-k.
*sigh*. I have to pick the phone up. I’m going to call him and ask the questions. I’m not letting this go, I’m not doing as I’m told. I want to know why. I want to know what’s prompted him. Is it her? What did she say? What’s really going on here? Who’s manipulating who? Is this about power??
Life’s too short for this.
Sometimes I scare myself. I really do think in an advanced society people will need licences to have kids. Short of that objective, I can’t see the point in me trying to solve today’s problems. Maybe I could work with kids. Maybe I could work with prisons. Maybe I should just get out and do something; change a slight behaviour, change a huge load of my outlook, get off my ivory tower. I don’t like behavioural training. Because I was trained by step-father. That’s why I couldn’t have done therapy. I can’t won’t hand over control. I can’t do it now. I’m way too cynical, wary, aware and hey, I don’t need it. I know what the problems are. I’m too realistic that’s my problem. I need to believe and fantasise and just go with the flow and maybe get myself a healing crystal. I don’t have any problems: compared to the vast majority of humans on this planet. Compared to people who were loved as kids and who grew up with a solid sense of self, confidence, a good dose of everyday delusion – yeah, I have problems. So what? I’d love to be a therapist. But I don’t love people enough. Sometimes I feel like Harry Lime in The Third Man. What would it matter if one of those dots down there suddenly stopped moving? It wouldn’t matter. It happens and – it doesn’t matter. And that is terrible.
What’s the worse that could happen? You’re never alone with schizophrenia.
Hey. This is a bit down. I feel some social responsibility kicking in. I don’t want to bring you down. I’m just coming down from a good swear and trying to be grown-up and decide what to do. I just want to rant like a two-year-old for a moment. I want to say, hey, it’s not fair! Hahaha. I love this board. Hey Voiclessness.com/disc3, I’ll never let you go!
You know too much! hahahahaha *hic* hahaha! Now that’s funny. I’m making myself smile.
Oh what to do. Pick up the phone. Pretend for a moment to be a normal person. That is, one who lies, who is false, who never speaks the truth for the sake of – our parents. We must spare our parents. I must spare my mother so that he may spare his mother and so on.
Good news. I love the online library system! I reserved another two Alice Miller books online yesterday. Excellent! I love it. I don’t have to deal with another human being and these two books can travel from two different towns to arrive at my chosen destination to collect. Wonderful! Such a little bit of achievement and control and it doesn’t take much to make me happy with the day’s events. And I’ve stopped myself checking the washing machine door. You know, I open it to check that I’ve closed it securely? Totally nuts. I’m weaning myself off that one. It goes back to when I moved in here. The previous idiot doctor owner had allowed his machine to overflow for years; I had to have the flooring removed down to the (wet) concrete base. Yes people are irresponsible and selfish and stupid. Even when they have big brains.
I can do without this. Hours of this. “You analyse too much”. “Women who think too much” (hey was that written by a man or woman?). Yeah I think too much! Wanna give me a lobotomy babe? Hahaha.
I might be a “sensitive person” or even a “highly sensitive person”. You know what I think that means? In real language? It means intelligent. That can be either IQ intelligent or EQ intelligent or some other gauge we haven’t yet invented. Down’s syndrome folks have an extra chromosome. Isn’t that amazing? They don’t have a deficiency, they have an excess. They have more. Interesting.
I could be procrastinating now. Could well be. But it’s turning into fun and I’d rather be avoiding relating to people who are just darn hard work. Dah de dum dum deeee dah...
It’s a sick joke though. I always was responsible for mother. And now I know I have to be responsible because some others, her included, are not. It’s not fair, kick scream! Haha. I wish I was thick. I wish I’d had six kids and lived in drunken poverty. It could have happened. I might not have been drunken. Having six kids might have helped me grow up faster. Might have been fantastic. I might have been a great mother. Let’s not go there right now. That contains too much grief. Emotion is not rational, except seen as the effect following the cause.
I can only be what I have been and where I am now. I cannot be otherwise. Peace.
Phone calls. What will I say? I’ll say: what prompted you to call me? And then I’ll listen. I’m good at listening, when I want to.
Haha! This is in Word and it’s three pages! “call your mother” = 3 pages. I guess it’s not surprising really. Hey. “Call your mother” - nice title? Not exactly Bridget Jones’s Diary. Nah. People want bread and circuses. Prince Charmings. Romantic delusion. Happy Endings. There is only one true ending - we all die. Margaret Atwood wrote a lovely short story called ‘happy endings’ I think. It made me laugh. It’s a comfort to read her and know that other people do think as you think. Or at least you imagine that they think as you do!
Make the phone call. Oooooo surely there is some housework to do?
