Voicelessness and Emotional Survival > Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board
healing
Wildflower:
Wow, Guest. We really do have a lot in common. I think I understand your feelings of shame about John, too, but we can save that topic for a rainy day – or at least, a day when you want to hash out more mother stuff. :wink: :)
I completely understand about the smoking, too. I quit in October, 2000, but I couldn’t do it cold-turkey. I did the whole nicotine patch step-down system – and even that wasn’t enough so I had to use the gum for a month or so after that. :roll: :) Took me a little over two months to kick it, but once you make up your mind…. Stick with it!! It’s worth it! :D
Have a Happy Easter! :D
Wildflower
Anonymous:
--- Quote from: rosencrantz ---What I should have said to my mother a long time ago is "It's not my job to provide you with someone who needs you" (rather than just turn my shoulder to the 'grinding' stone, put on my T Rex suit, to stop her invading me, and block her out). Of course there's a quivering wreck of a child hiding behind that suit. She shamed me again and again with her rages and tantrums and spiteful sarcastic words).
My H doesn't 'need' me - it's much safer, saner. I 'need' him (his sanity, his logic, his castle wall boundaries) but I think it's not the same. I 'need' those things to lead a healthy, independent life in 'connection' with somebody else. My son doesn't 'need' me either. I'm sad to say. I feel I've failed as a mother.
Take 2 : (frowns) Yikes! Is that success as a mother?????????????
"Whatever" :roll: :wink: (The answer is neither)
I shall write back and 'demand' rationality I shall find a kind way of saying : "When we can get some rationality in our written communication THAT's when I'll have confidence to call you. Compare what I wrote with what you wrote back." Maybe she'll I wonder what I can do to make us 'both' the good guys when I'm so angry, too - partly because I've had to be the grownup for so long and 'take it' and 'take it' and 'take it'???!!!!! An impossible question.
R
--- End quote ---
I've highlighted these parts up here because they've stuck in my head, and I wanted to comment, (even though after reading your Bubbles thread I can see you've integrated much of what you said here, so have moved on) on this Rosencrantz. I get an image of a parent, child, parent triangle. You know, like the persecutor victim triangle. And we move around the triangle, maybe we get stuck in one point, or like it in one point.
Like your mother Rosencrantz. Sounds like she's been stuck in the child point, or likes it there. And at some time, way, way, way back, you moved to the parent point and she liked it, (heck, maybe even you liked it for a moment,) so she's kept pushing you back there, every time you try to get out, and go back to the child point. Anyway, that's where this took me, and it's been gnawing away at me, so I thought I'd express it. Hope that's okay.
I do admire how I see you are working so hard on sorting through all this 'stuff'. You seem so determined to keep your son out of being drawn into this Child/Parent/ triangle. Just determined to let him be 'Child'. And that is right, and worth every bit of effort it takes.
And I love your analogy of the T-Rex suit. When you posted that here and somewhere else where I talked about my suit I wear. That picture I have of you in your T-Rex suit, crashing about is so priceless :D :D . Hilarious.
Thanks
Guest
And Hi to you Wildflower, I wanted to say thankyou for all your encouragement and support. After I posted yesterday, re John, I forgot why I posted. I got so caught up in those memories, trying to sort out reality from imagination again. Then I realised all I really had to look at is how it all makes me feel, NOW. That seems to be the only valid reality I need concern myself with at the moment.
I wanted to say thanks for sharing that detail of your life, and how much I could relate to your loss of that man in your life. I haven't spoken about John, ever, to anyone but my mother, and that was only that one time. She'd go too nuts if if I 'harped'. I've never known anyone with the same experience. Probably lots of us out there. Who knows? But I know how hard it must have been for you. The unrecognised position meant unrecognised loss and grief and is a very difficult pain thing to explain, I find anyway.
Once again Wildflower, thankyou for sharing that story. I didn't realise how much I'm still affected by my experience till I went for a walk after I posted it. I was burning with anger at the old witch once again. Not too far moved along in the healing process here but never mind, let's call it " A Work In Progress." And surprisingly enough, I'm enjoying the journey.
Thanks and have a Happy Easter
Guest
Wildflower:
Hi Guest,
I’m really glad that by sharing experiences I was able to be helpful in some way. It’s comforting to know that such negative stuff can be turned into something positive.
About John, I just want to say that I also felt awkward and ashamed when I first started seeing my “good dad” again. I was my mother’s daughter, and I probably learned a lot of things from her that would hurt him, or remind him of her. At first, that may have been a little true because I was only beginning to sort stuff out in my own life, but he has been like a beacon to me. He is Home, and he's where I’ve been heading in so many ways for so many years. I don’t know if that applies in your case given that you were with John for a smaller amount of time, but I bet this does: I learned that my good dad was able to separate his feelings for me from his feelings for my mother. And I can tell from reading about how he stood up for you that John probably realized/realizes that you were in a tough position and he probably cares and wonders about you – even though your mother did such a terrible thing by confronting his family. Maybe you could write a letter to him and tell him what you’ve told us here about how you missed him and what a positive part of your life he was. And tell him how your mom told you he’d died in Vietnam, and how truly sorry you are for what she did in confronting his family. I don’t really know. So much time has passed that you may not want to approach him, but I bet he doesn’t hold anything against you – maybe the opposite. Anyway, it’s just a thought I had.
Wildflower
Anonymous:
Thanks for the comments and thoughts Wildflower, and I hope you had a good Easter. I took off with some books, got lots of reading in, and stayed away from chocolate and fags. I think it's fantastic the way the way you were able to reconnect with your "good dad." I wonder if that happens much, or if your experience is fairly unique.
Your comment about writing John a letter. I've thought about that a trillion times. I could do that, but I have a huge reluctance. It's like a 'disrespect' thing for me. In my personal life I have this issue with keeping agreements, being at appointments on time etc. I'm never ever ever late. EVER. And if I make a promise, I always, always, ALWAYS keep it. Even if it kills me. Really. For some reason, promises to me are holy. Mine and other people's.
I'm very harsh on myself in this regard, and I guess because I've known about his promise to his family, :idea: (Mother knows what a stickler I am for keeping my promises, and insisting othr's keep theirs) maybe she made this up too? Hmmm, never thought of that before) I have to respect that. If John promised his wife that he'd have nothing to do with us again, then that makes me feel very awkward. That woman never hunted me down, and terrorised me, or emabrrassed me in front of my friends, like my mother did to her children.
But, I will say this. I think I can find some way to acknowledge John now, as a part of my life. Like I said, I've got photos of us together and I think I might go buy myself a little frame, and pick out a nice one of us together and put it up out where I can see it. It always gives me such a nice warm feeling to look at the photo and remember him, so why not? And I don't have to worry about the Witch of Endor over-reacting to it. She's gone years ago. And I fear finding out he's dead. In my heart he's young and handsome and kind and out there somewhere making the world a better place.
Then I think of the old crow, and that makes me think of all the memories I had to bury to keep her stable, and as a result my world stable. Things she didn't want to be reminded of, and things I didn't dare remind her of or she's go nutso. Talk about suck the life from my bones.
That woman would wear 3 or 4 different outfits in one day. If she bought a matching set, (hat glove shoes and handbag), she'd buy the same set in 4 or 5 different colours. And change as many times in one day.
And I had to compliment. Uggh, (groan) all the time complimenting. Giving the 'right' answer to her, "How does this look? Does it make my bum look too big? But then men like something to grab onto, don't they? Can you zip me? Do you think I've got too much eyeshadow on? Look at my stomach, does it look bloated? Wait till you start getting your period, you'll know what I mean. If you don't keep up your appearances, there's always a prettier one out there who will." My emotional fatigues sets it about now remebering it.
I hated this talk so much. Even now I am the worst to go girlie shopping with, and I'm totally hopeless to have girl talk with about fashion. My eyes glaze over and I go into a trance, and start chanting in a robotic monotone "You look lovely, yes I think the blue dress and blue eyeshadow highlights your blue hair beautifully. It's a very appealing combination. Now I've done my duty, can I go and be sick now please?"
No, don't ask me at all, I'm no bloody help. Don't take me shopping if you need to buy new clothes, or ask me how you look. I'll say "Great! Fantasic! Ten Years Younger," and you'll come home with just 2 things. Bags of the greatest pile of hideous outfits, and the thought that I did it on purpose.
I just read what I've written and I'm saying to myself "How did I get here???" :shock:
I started talking about John, and how you suggested that maybe I could drop him a line, then I thought about mother, then I thought about her effect on me, and then I went to how her effect on me has retarded my ability to relate normally in so many ways. The I thought about how I don't bother so much with changing my retardation behaviours because I think it would take too long. I just try to be aware of them and not let them cause damage. For example, I tell my friends I'm no good to go shopping, and warn them, "Don't ask me for advice. It's lousy." This is about as good as it's gonna get I think.
I think if I devoted the time it would take to repair the damage she's done I'd have no time or energy left to be mother or friend or wife.
In my mind I liken it to the world's biggest messiest bunch of different coloured string. My mother has put me over here in a corner with this huge messy bunch of string, and it's as big as a house. My job is I have to unravel it and sort all the colours into their groups, and join the different colours together, and it's gonna take forever. Am I going to spend the next 20 years doing, if it's going to be perfect? And in the end all I'm gonna have is a big ball of string to lug around, THAT'S NOT MINE! It's just her legacy to me. Yikes!!!! :shock:
How much of my kids lives or making friends or spending time with friends would I miss out on? How tired would I be all the time? Too tired to enjoy MY LIFE. I'd be be over there somewhere, tucked away in some corner of life, neglecting my own things, and spending my life STILL FOCUSSING ON HER CRAP & SORTING OUT HER CRAP!!!!! :x and that would just end making me mad and resentful. At her for manipulating me and me for being a sucker.
So I'm adjusting to this, "I'm not going to be able to put all the peices of my life back where I'd like them to be, but I can at least remember them, and know where they'd go." :D
Does that make sense? Anyway Wildflower, sorry for rambling on and on.
I had planned to only make it a short one.
Guest.
Wildflower:
Hi Guest,
--- Quote ---I took off with some books, got lots of reading in, and stayed away from chocolate and fags.
--- End quote ---
That sounds like such a nice, pleasant weekend! :D Wish I'd done that. Instead, I went digging around for more land mines. An ACON Easter egg hunt, I guess you could say. :roll: Found a couple live ones, too. I pondered detonating them for a few hours before I finally came to my senses and decided to wait for the bomb squad – AKA my therapist – to arrive. I think I just might be getting smarter. :roll: :wink:
Wow do I relate to what you said about giving compliments! Giving my mom a compliment is like going out in a yard full of dogs wearing a steak suit. To this day I have to prod myself to give someone a compliment, because I want to be nice – but I do not want to open the doors to the bottomless pit of need for affirmation (BPNA). :roll:
--- Quote ---I think I can find some way to acknowledge John now, as a part of my life.
--- End quote ---
Maybe that’s all you need. There’s something so great about being able to gather rays of sunshine from the past. :D
My relationship with my good dad is really limited in that I talk to him once every few months, and it’s half so, so familiar in ways I can hardly describe. But the other half is filled with longing for what could have been and a realization that our lives have simply moved on, so I can see why you might want to keep remembering John how he was - even if your mom hadn't forced him to make that promise (wish I could punch her for you :evil: ). In some ways, there’s no going home. But I think there are ways of bringing home to us – like knowing RG’s dog is inside him now. :D
But reconnecting with my good dad is kind of a weird story and really relates to the whole memory discussion we’ve had here. It's a bit long, but it's really positive, and I just wanted to share it with you guys – especially after all the negative stuff that’s been clogging up my brain lately. :D
When I was in junior high, a couple of friends and I decided to make logos for ourselves. Silly junior high thing kind of thing to do. Among the cute puppies and pretty flowers and mangled attempts at horses, I came up with two very strange looking dogs. One was sitting up and one was kind of lying down, but both had very angular heads. My mom said that the sitting-up one looked like a Steinberg drawing, and I always thought the lying-down one looked like a normal lying-down animal with a Star Trek symbol for a head (you know those things on their suits they use to call the ship?). Weird.
That’s part one. Part two is that my mom had a massive collection of classical music – all records, of course. I think there might have been five or six non-classical albums in the entire collection. Anyway, every now and then I’d get this itch to find an album that I was never sure existed. All I knew was that there was a record that opened up and had comics inside. That’s it. Was it The Monkees? Was it that Rolling Stones album? Donavan? Let’s just say there are a few albums I now love because I used to listen to them every time wondering, is this it? Am I just nuts?
And then (part 3) in high school, some of my friends used to listen to one of the stations that played older rock music, and I started having these weirdo deja-vu experiences where I was convinced I knew the song, but I couldn’t imagine where I’d heard it since my mom had nothing but classical music!! I seriously thought I was losing my mind (well, I guess I was at that time :wink: ).
I saw my good dad once during high school, but before I went to see him, my mom got all weird and said “you know, he’s not the man you remember, he’s changed. Just be careful.” What was that supposed to mean? That really freaked me out and I was really nervous around him for the couple of ours we had lunch.
Well, my first summer after college, I went on a road trip around the southwestern US, and my first stop was in the same city where my good dad lived. I stayed a couple of days with his family (he had since remarried and had two kids), and it was SOOOOO WONDERFULLY DISORIENTING. :D :D
He took me water skiing for the first time, and I was terrible at it :oops: :D , and just when I was starting to beat myself up and get really frustrated, he leaned over the side of the boat and said something to me (sure wish I remembered what it was, though I’m sure it wasn’t “Relax. You’re just overreacting.” :wink: ), and my whole body relaxed. Right then, in the water, skiis pointing in every direction, I blurted out, “Was I a bad kid?” He was taken aback by this, of course, but he said, “No way. You were a really good kid. You were kinda sensitive, but a good kid.” I choked down a couple of tears, went for one more failed attempt at standup UP on the skiis :roll: , and got back in the boat.
When it was time to head back in, he tried to start the motor and nothing. Dead. He started opening up the motor and tinkering around (he’s a bit of a mechanic), and he cursed at it a bit. And then I really don’t know what happened to snap me out of it, but I kind of “woke up” sitting on the very front tip of the boat – the farthest place I could find from where he was. I knew right then that if it had been my biological father swearing at the engine, I’d be next in line for the swearing or whatever other scary stuff came next. I thought, “Wow, how conditioned have I become?? How abusive IS my dad?” I came back down and he was already laughing at himself about how his wife was going to kill him for forgetting to charge the backup battery. She’d be pissed about having to drive out to the lake to get him a new one. She did though. And we got back to shore. Laughing. :D And in the truck on the way home, he put on some music – and it was all the music I’d been hearing on the radio with my friends in high school. All of a sudden I knew where I’d heard it before, and I blurted out again, “Did you use to play this music in your band?” He replied, “Oh yeah, you don’t remember this?!? You used to know all the words and sing along with us during rehearsals. It was really cute.” :shock: :D :shock: :D
So now I’m reeling. Everything’s starting to make sense again and I feel like I’m coming out of a long coma. When we get back to the house, I figure, hey, why not, and I ask him about this mysterious record I’d been looking for over the years. He laughed (by this time he was really getting a kick out of all the weird questions I was asking him) and said yes, he had that album. He pulled it out, and there it was. :shock: I started tearing up. He sat me down on the couch and opened it up (there were the comics!! I wasn’t crazy :shock: ), and he pointed to one frame and said, “We used to listen to this every day after you got home from school. You always made me play this song over again.” I could hardly contain myself. And when he turned the page, there was the Star Trek dog I’d drawn in junior high – right there in the middle of the page!!! :shock: :shock: :D :D
That night, after he and his wife had gone to bed, I sat out on their back porch and knew that of all the discoveries I’d made in my life up to that point, this one was the biggest one. And I’ll never forget how the wind was blowing wildly that night, and that’s exactly how I felt inside – all stirred up and blowing in all directions.
So now, whenever I get a weird fuzzy image or yearning or thought that makes me wonder if I’m crazy, I think about how those strange moments pulled me closer to the truth – and I start digging.
Anyway, I know this was long, but thanks for letting me share this. :D
Wildflower
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