CB you said:
No. It's not normal. Your parents were abdicating their responsibility to discipline their son to another child. YOU!
Hope, you said something similar.
It is sooo true. I never thought of it this way, but it really fits. She did this on so many levels. I was responsible for raising my sister, for taking care of my mother's emotions – she was a child. I knew this at some levels, but hadn’t applied it to this situation
That is a great idea with the kids - I am going to try that with mine next time.
Hops –
Oh yes, there is a Finding Pissed Off! Oh yes.
I spent so much of my childhood angry. Now that I am away from it – I don’t want the anger, I want normalcy. Anger never really accomplished anything for me as a child except to get me in more trouble, and as an adult, I don’t want to waste one more second with negative emotions – I would so much rather, like you so eloquently wrote (I do love your writing – it is very soothing to read) pick up the pieces I do have, and create new and beautiful ones. I would like to find a way that I can just proclaim – ok - my childhood was rubbish, it was what it was, can’t change it, but thankfully IT IS OVER, and time to move on – but in some ways the behavior was so insidious, it sneaks up on me like it did the other day with my H. And I get blindsided - good news is, it doesn't hurt as much as it used to.
Lighter – Thanks. You are right, I too need to get centered and focused on the here and now, and most importantly my kids. You take care of you and those precious babies ((((I am thinking of you as you go through your hearing)))))
Janet – you are right - it is bad enough that we were abused – but it is even worse, when I feel like I am wrong for questioning my childhood. To top it off, I then feel like an idiot for not recognizing sooner that this is abnormal.
As an aside with the “D” label – ooohhhh I saw red when my B said that about his daughter. My sis does the same thing with one of her children. It is so, so sad. I was seeing how these diseased patterns get carried from generation to generation. Broke my heart because I could see these 2 babies getting the same label we did.
Hope – thank you so much for your kind words. I think I need to start trusting myself more. You know – the biggest eye-opener to my childhood was having children. In so many ways I realized that I would never, ever do to my children the things my parents did to me as a child – and from this, started to realize how badly I had been treated. I sometimes wonder if I ever would have gotten to this level of awareness had I not had children.
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Interestingly, I had a dream last night, I very rarely dream (or if I dream I rarely remember it). But this one was so realistic and stayed with me, so I think there is a message in it.
I was sitting on a mountain looking down on a town. I was alone. People were bustling around, doing their everyday things, and having a good time. In the far distance a huge fair ground complete with a Ferris wheel and tents and flags blowing in the wind.
It was so realistic that I can remember the scent of the mountain air and the coarse stickiness of the grass I was sitting on. I could hear the faint laughter and the murmur of voices carried by the wind.
Behind me was a house, modern in design with beautiful arching windows. I knew that I was moving and that I needed to go finish packing up. I started to stand up, but was suddenly afraid, as the hill I was sitting on turned into a very steep cliff and I am terrified of heights.
I desperately started clawing my way up that cliff, with terror churning in my stomach, and all of a sudden three men came – they were beautiful. They were strong, and tall, and emanated such a sense of goodness. I felt peace in their presence. Each one gently held onto my arms and helped me climb that cliff and followed me into the house.
I was walking through the house, and came to one of the rooms I needed to pack. One of the men walked up to one of the walls and said do you remember when we painted this? Remember the profanity that was written all over the walls? And I suddenly remembered F*** Y** painted in huge red dripping letters on the wall. I also remembered painting over it and feeling shame at what was on the walls and at covering it up. He said, I am sorry, I wrote that profanity.
We were interrupted by the phone, which started to ring with this shrill, high-pitched, incessant, demanding sound. It was my father. He started screaming at me on the phone. Where have you been, what are you doing – how dare you, it got really nasty, but I don’t remember exactly what was said. I screamed F*** Y** into the phone and slammed it down. My heart was racing and I had another panic attack – I was so terrified that I hung up on him. Then I woke up.
I am not sure what all of this means. I have to think all of this over.
Thank you all so much for listening to me ramble and for your advice. This is a really great place (with many thanks to Dr. G and all of you who have taken the time to write and tell your stories – it helps, a lot).
Peace
