Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board
Voicelessness and Emotional Survival => Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board => Topic started by: Phyll on July 17, 2021, 08:19:09 PM
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Hello,
A friend of mine told me about this website. I found registration was closed so I wrote to Richard to ask about it. As I told him, I recently became aware of my affinity for the narcissists in my life. In my experience with AA over the last 32 + years I found sharing personal stories with other recovering people essential to maintaining my sobriety. On June 7 I had a hip replacement. My recovery was interrupted by fevers, pain, fatigue and rashes which turned out to be Lyme's disease. I am now on the mend. What I realized during this time is that my spouse seems to be incapable of empathy.
I am aware I can only change myself. I need your experience strength and hope to learn how to cope, and ensure my needs are met. I realize yours may be a tight knit group who have known each other for some time. I am optimistic my participation might also bring something new to your discussions.
Phyll
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Hi, Phyll,
It's lovely to see a new face! Welcome :) I'm so sorry to hear you've had such a tough time with your hip and Lyme's as well. I'm glad you're on the mend, but sorry you've discovered a lack of empathy in your spouse during that time. It's hard when we realise the people we love aren't able to give us (some) of the things we need, particularly when we're going through tough times ourselves. Many of us on here have had similar experiences :) Well done on the many years of sobriety, it sounds as if you have traveled many roads.
Feel free to dive in and start reading threads, or starting your own. We'd love to know more about your experiences, if and when you feel able to tell. You might find some of the threads jump around a bit; many of us have been on here for years so we often know about previous things that have happened - feel free to ask about anything that doesn't make sense :)
I'm really glad you're here and hope you find sharing experiences here helpful and an aid to your further recovery. I always learn more from other people so I'm looking forward to hearing more from you (but only as much as you're comfortable with - no pressure). Personally this group has saved me over and over again. Warm friendships with people I've never met in real life - it's a situation that's both odd and lovely at the same time.
Welcome!
Love, Tupp xx
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Welcome, Phyll--
I hope we're able to help and support you in what you're going through.
Would you like to tell us more about it?
It's all in our stories and anecdotes, really, plus a commitment
to repairing/healing what's broken or damaged in ourselves and supporting each other in the same. And, of course, spotting narcissists a mile away!
One advantage you have is that you can read back as far as you're inspired to, for a better idea of the situations each of us are in and how we're moving forward. Or where we're feeling stuck.
Look forward to hearing your own story, Phyll. As detailed as you'd like to be.
Warmly
Hops
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Hi Phyll, pull up a seat around our bonfire. Sounds like you've been experiencing an "insult to injury" time, with the hip then Lyme's.
A former SIL of mine, had a very long & bad time with Lyme. So I know a fair amount about it. Thankfully, everyone reacts differently and experiences different degrees of severity and type of symptoms. May you have a less serious case!
Twoapenny (Tupp) is right that we'll be interested to get to know you, as you have energy to tell us about yourself. I think the regulars here, kinda have a reflex to help. LOL. But we also have a "take it if helps, if it doesn't - ignore it" philosophy about that.
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Hi, Phyll:
Do you have children? If so, how are they doing?
My oldest DD20 has a Lyme's Disease dx. How did your diagnosis happen?
Welcome and I hope you heal up quickly🌞
Lighter
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Thank you for your warm welcomes, lighter, sKePTiKal, Hopalong, and Twoapenny! I am still struggling with figuring out how this message board works! My story is long and loud and I am happy to share. I look forward to getting to know you and others around this camp fire.
I will start with some basic info. I am 62 years old. I am the youngest of 4 and the only girl growing up. None of us escaped alcoholism. My Mother sobered up when I began my drinking career, about 8th grade. My father died from alcoholism when he was 62. Other than that, life was okay growing up and I always knew I was loved. I retired last July from a 37 year career in public service - my BS degree in Social Work - Yes. I was born to attract narcissists and alcoholics. :<)
What brought me to my knees in 1988, the year I sobered up - was losing the choice to be able to have children. Today we have 3 fur babies (dogs), all border collie mixed breeds - Tilly is 13, Zeke is 9, and Peanut is likely 3 or 4.
I have not had great success in my (romantic) relationships with men. I have enjoyed many long-lasting and beneficial friendships that have sustained me over the years. The pandemic + retirement + moving to a remote location in the woods in northern Wisconsin 6 years ago have taken their toll.
I am fiercely independent. The house is in my name. W and I have been together for 15 years. We got married at the courthouse in March 2020. W has been sober over 17 years, but he no longer goes to meetings. We both have had trauma in our lives, his much more severe than mine.
W was very charming initially. He is smart, funny, controlling, quick to be offended and become verbally abusive. He has a background in electrical/mechanical engineering and can fix almost anything. I was never afraid to live alone before, but with him I moved out of my comfort zone. We have invested all of our money and energy in our home in the woods. Last year we were terrorized by a neighbor who lives a block away. He stalked past our property (which is located on a dead end road) carrying a spear and a 9mm pistol - threatened to stab our dogs and shoot W. We had to go through the circuit court judge to get a restraining order. Thankfully he has obeyed the order so far. We continue to build security systems and fences.
I write all this to explain why I would not feel comfortable living here alone, and I am not ready to give up on dreams W and I share. Perhaps some day, but I do not feel strong enough physically or emotionally at this point in time.
I do however need to be strong in my boundaries. I cannot allow him to abuse me (never any physical abuse). I want to make sure I am never in his care again while disabled.
As I said, my hip replacement was on June 7, and I was sent home the same day. Beginning with day 2, W got me up to give me my pills - yelling at me to sit up and hold my hand out for the medications. He proceeded to complain about how all of this was difficult for him. This has gone on until the last few days since I started feeling better.
I suffered pain and fevers on and off since the surgery, the entire time listening to W make it all about him. He repeatedly accused me of being depressed, that I did not ever want to do anything. (I put the surgery off for nearly a year due to COVID). The fevers and pain increased over the 4th of July weekend, I developed a scary rash and was very weak.
On Monday July 5th I packed an overnight bag while W yelled saying Tilly was dying and I don't even care. I waddled down to my car with my quad cane and drove 1.5 hours to where my doctors and friends are located. I also have ADD and wouldn't you know I forgot my wallet. I had no money or ID, and my bank was closed! It is a good thing I learned how to ask for help. I stayed with friends who cared for me.
I went through many tests. They thought the infection was in my new hip joint and was facing repeat surgeries and extended recovery. All tests were negative so on Friday I went back to my internal medicine doctor who ordered additional blood work. I drove home and the next day I learned it was Lymes disease. I have been on antibiotics since July 5 and will follow up with the infectious disease specialist this Thursday. It seems the illness is easily treatable and caught in an early stage.
Phew. There ya have it. Thank you for your support.
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Gosh, Phyll, you have been through a lot! I'm so sorry you didn't get the care and support you needed during your post op period. It's really tough finding out that support isn't there, just when you need it most. Boundaries are essential, I think you're right about that. Although easier said than done, not least because other people don't always like them and that can be difficult. But it sounds like you want to try to make your relationship and your life work better for you, and I think at least knowing what it is you need to work on is half the battle.
I think everyone on here has been through at least one of the things you've mentioned - I'll leave it to others to tell their story :) But for me, growing up with alcoholics and my own drink issues in adult life is one thing I recognised in your story. Crazy neighbours is another, although ours are more the inconsiderate kind rather than the restraining order kind. He sounds very disturbed, I'm glad he's keeping his distance. I can understand why you wouldn't feel comfortable out there alone.
I'm sorry that children weren't an option. It's hard when that choice is made for you. Tough one to cope with. The fur babies sound lovely; we have a cat who thinks she's a dog lol.
Are you feeling any better physically? I'm glad they caught the Lyme's early on. I hope the treatments are doing their magic and that you start to feel better very soon xx
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Not to sound flippant, but sometimes giving up a dream clears space for better dreams, ime.
Sometimes removing our grip is impossible.....we have to go round and round and round till we have no choice. Till we've suffered and struggled enough that leaving hurts less than hanging in.
I'm hear to ask what if?
What if property values are high enough to get enough money to buy something with less maintenance, with the no murderous/stalker neighbors, with no spouse lacking empathy for you?
Everyone requires empathy, Phyll.
Everyone.
Lighter
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Well, not everyone is geared toward compassionately caring for another, especially if it's a close relationship and maybe W is also very dependent on his strong independent woman?
Not dismissing your feelings of frustration, anger, and being neglected/verbally abused. I swear, I think sometimes I'd rather deal with physical pain, than that. (That's just my quirk.) If one has never done caregiving, it can be hard physically, mentally & emotionally. I nursed my late hubby for the 3 months he was increasingly enfeebled - cancer. I swear my night nurses ended up taking almost as much care of me, as him. And I had my meltdowns. And later, the guilt whiplash.
Sounds like you're not quite as far out in the woods as I am. More of a rural subdivision, is that a good description? One thing I remind all new homesteaders is that it takes a good long while to get to know people and eventually be accepted by the people who've lived there, all their lives. Social life & activities are scarce; people way out put work before other types of activities. But almost to a person, everyone who chooses to live remote - simply wants to be left alone and an essential skill or requirement of such an environment is to be as independent and self-sufficient as possible. That goal is NOT the reality, however as some projects/jobs require more than one person. So helping others & knowing who can/will help you... is needed. That really does take time.
I lived alone out here for several years, before my D moved in. First time ever living alone. The structure of her life kinda disintegrated and she needed a place to regroup. (She spent at least half her teen years with me on the first homestead.) She ended up staying with a new SO. She now has her own house and I've added a huge chunk of natural woodland as a buffer from others in the area. The movers asked if I was afraid to live out here by myself (I'm a few years older than you). I just laughed. I know how to live around the wildlife and despite the fact that my hunters have shot a black bear here... I have yet to see one, because I don't attract them. It's people who are unpredictable and more predatory, in my mind. So I can defend myself against them, too. That seques nicely into the connection with the trauma I experienced 50 some years ago. It's all here somewhere. LOLOLOL.
It all came out in bits & bobs; lots of rambling too and mental drifting.... sometimes in all caps; sometimes very very quietly.
Do you think you can talk to your hubby and ask him about some of the things that are bothering you? Is it possible he reacted so nastily, because the reality of maybe not having you around, doing for him, scared the livin' bejesus out of him? And he really doesn't have the skills to barely take care of himself - much less another person? (I'm not projecting here; it really is something I've been noticing in some people around me - so I ask, as sort of a process of elimination.)
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Hi Phyll --
Couple of rambling, bare-bones or brass-tacks questions:
Did you buy this house to make W happy (his dream?) or did you both share the same vision of where you'd like to live?
Do you have any friends or family within reach to support or help you?
If not, do you have any interests, faith or politics or community volunteer efforts you'd be involved in if you weren't in recovery mode? (Or could look forward to?)
If yes, do any of these exist nearby? (I'm thinking, build that village....)
I'm extremely sorry W gives himself permission to treat you that way. That has to stop.
I'm really glad the house is in your name.
Safety and support are the two biggest words for you going off in my mind right now.
And relief of pain.
hug
Hops
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Thank you Hero Members and Newbie - You all make excellent points on which I am pondering. I am in my gathering information and support phase. I at least figure I can continue that phase until I can get rid of the quad cane and can carry a box if need be! The minute I think I can stay in this the next thing I know is I cannot. Then there is the need to use my voice! I appreciate all your experience. Thank you so much! Keep it coming and I will continue to share.
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Hi all, I wanted to get back to you regarding your thoughtful comments and specific questions that were asked in this thread. After this I will likely start a new thread.
Twoapenny - Yes, I am feeling better physically. Still using the quad cane - but more for balance now than support. I see the surgeon tomorrow for a follow-up. Thursday I see the infectious disease specialist. I completed all of the oral antibiotics and hope to have confirmed what I suspect, that the Lyme's disease was caught early and is easily treated.
The neighbor is indeed disturbed. From what I gather, he may have been like this for years, but his wife died a year before his stalking behavior started (did I mention he mostly walked at night in the pitch dark?). I think she sort of kept him in line. She had dementia the last few years and he cared for her at home. It is fortunate I was not able to get in the middle of all that and try to help them - that would have been right up my alley!
lighter - Not flippant at all, and I have walked through that same what if regarding selling the house. It is a buyer's market right now. There are a number of unfinished projects W has started, not finished, with supplies purchased all over the place... I realize a home can sell regardless. And thank you for acknowledging that everyone needs empathy.
sKePTiKal - I would not necessarily call this a rural subdivision. The gravel road leading to the home from the county highway is a logging road. There are 2 miles past state and county land before reaching the "subdivision." You are correct - folks generally keep to themselves. Most of the parcels around here are summer and/or hunting cottages . I have 6.7 acres. We currently have 5 full time residents including us, 2 of which became permanent within the last year.
Hopalong - Good question but no, I wanted to move here. I owned a 2 bedroom ranch on a golf course in the city for 17 years. It was my idea to move to the country. I bought a house about 30 miles out in the midst of farm fields. We learned Big Ag was not consistent with the organic principals we tried to use. Lots of CAFOs and contaminated wells getting closer so we bailed. We looked a long time to find this place. A little further out than I thought I wanted, but since I was a teleworker it really did not matter how far away I lived.
I do have friends and family who are willing to help me, but my brothers each live 3 hours away in different directions. No one who would just let me move in I don't think! Have to say I sure miss my Mom. I have my AA community, a retreat this fall I hope to attend, and a friend found a Women's AlAnon Zoom meeting last night that we participated in.
CB - Yes, putting physical health first is necessary. Last night the Al-Anon topic was self-care. Today another friend shared something about extracting oneself from a toxic person is the ultimate in self care. I so hope I can be strong enough to do that. I really got myself in deep this time.
Tonight W complained when I told him I had appointments with 2 health care providers tomorrow. He is taking prednisone (which probably does not help his moods) for an autoimmune disorder. I also told him I have jury duty in August (the judge let me postpone it twice). He says I am going to bring home the delta variant of covid to him, he is going to die, and I will be alone - that he better finish all these projects.
I assured him I would take all necessary precautions. Then he said he hopes he dies and accused me of not showing empathy. It is all about him and he's right, I don't feel much empathy.
I even cancelled a hair appt. for the morning - (1st one in 18 months) to get rid of this pandemic hairstyle. I did it because although I am fully vaccinated - I do not want to get sick at all right now after this hip surgery and Lymes disease!
Thanks for "listening."
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I'm glad your physical health is heading in the right direction, Phyll, I think it's harder to deal with emotional stuff if you have physical stuff going on as well. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the Lyme's has been treated quickly!
Do you think your hubby has always been this way or has he become more morose or selfish more recently? Sometimes it's hard, I think, we can live with someone for years and not really notice some of the things they say or do. Then suddenly something happens and it's like someone pulled the blinds up and you can see clearly for the first time. I think it's good that you're noticing, anyway, and looking for ways to deal with it. I hope you can get a haircut soon! Mine looked like someone had planted a bush on my head :) Lol. I hope the deranged neighbour continues to stay away xx
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I thought I ought to add to my story that I married W so he would have health insurance. I previously was able to cover him through my employer as a domestic partner, but they dropped that after domestic partners could marry legally. It was a few months later that W developed the polymyalgia.
Twoapenny - There have been issues with W that I became aware of early in our relationship - when I was no longer perfect in his eyes and thrown off the pedestal. It seems baffling why I stayed with him, but I know it has everything to do with my codependency. It is most recently that I realized he lacks the capacity for empathy.
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I wonder if the steroids have cause a personality change in W?
But you did say, verbally abusive and controlling were evident early on?
I'm so sorry.
You must feel stuck but I also hear a whole lot of strength in you.
You don't deserve this, and I hope you can gather as much strength as you need to decide what your next chapter is going to be about -- placating W or fulfilling P?
hugs
Hops
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Hey Phyll, glad to hear you're on the mend!
I wanted to mention that you're more than welcome to also participate on the other threads, as you have time & feel like contributing. Unlike a lot of forums, we don't have a lot of rules - coz we all break 'em at some point or other - when we're going through a particularly tough time with something. Sometimes we just get chatty (looks at myself). :rolleyes:
This whole covid year has definitely had an impact on everyone. My D - Hol - and I figure people are handling it the best they know how or can. But it's also clear that some aren't doing well at all. Whether it's isolation, past trauma patterns, just general uncertainty or whatever... it's hitting some people harder than others. I absorbed it, as just more reason to expand my unstructured time... and I THINK, overall, I put it to good use. (Time will tell, right?)
There are now 5 residences in my hollar, too. Hol's "Hut" being the latest. She and her partner are the youngest here. She's 43. I've been here 5 years so far. We're spread out over hundreds of acres and I'm at the end of the road (Hol's back yet about another mile) about 2 miles from the 2 lane highway. Over the course the years, I've had a chance to meet everyone just by living here... but we don't exactly "know" each other; still feel like strangers. So at Christmas, I put together boxes of baked goodies and delivered to everyone. Had a nice chat with my 90 yr old neighbor, closest to the highway.... and she baked her biscotti and brought me to try a few days later. My closest neighbor wasn't home and I didn't hear a thing from them - even though if the road needs any attention (plowing or downed trees cut, he's usually on the job). Then at Valentines Day, he and his daughter showed up with a delicious banana cake and a note from his wife, including her phone number. I think she doesn't do well with isolation like this. So I'll probably reach out to her gently, soon.
We're all organic here, too. The first homestead (back in the 90s) we built from scratch. There was already some infrastructure here and at my age, that was a big plus. I could take my time developing things and not make those kinds of mistakes which happen due to "pressure" - perceived and otherwise. With the D here; and her partner being interested in permaculture and wildcrafting/foraging... it's pushed things along a lot faster to a more self-sufficient level. It's not always easy having two generations on the same land - but there's enough of it we can retreat to our own spaces and have some autonomy. That's a big help.
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Oh and it has to do with my self esteem also. One more part to my story. When I was 39 a mammogram revealed breast cancer. I had a lumpectomy and 28 lymph nodes removed - 5 had cancer. I went through chemo, radiation, hormone therapies and eventually had my ovaries removed to prevent reoccurrence. It happened at a time I had never felt better - physically and emotionally. I had not dated for nearly 3 years, I put my codependency to good use and adopted a dog. She was my soul mate.
After that I dated a man for about 3 years but broke it off because it was not going anywhere. I dated a few people after that but nothing serious, until I got involved with W. That was at the time I had the ovaries removed. I think my hormone changes contributed to my self esteem issues.
And BTW, I am followed by a psychiatrist since I was 38, and remain stable with medication for depression (dysthymia).
So, that is the rest of the story. I will keep you posted. I am going to spend some time reading other's stories, and keeping up with your posts. Thanks again.
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You have been through a LOT, Phyl.
Life threatening and overwhelming chapters.
No time to contemplate, soothe, encounter the inner child...
But speaking of that, do you have a few more stories that
illuminate your childhood? What kinds of things sank in, the good
and the not-good...and how do you see those stories still working
inside you today?
Me, I've spend decades with my head stuck into my bellybutton so far that all you can see is shoulders. And I don't mind it at all. I'll be happily in therapy on my deathbed, since I'm just one of those humans who requires a village to keep it together and keep on living.
I never got the "dysthymia" diagnosis but have had real depression at times. Mercifully, the SAD light and Vit D and therapy and friends mean I don't use SSRIs any more. But if it got really bad, I'd be glad to do another round.
Look forward to hearing more stories. I think when we choose one to tell, we're telling it to ourselves as well, and sometimes hear new truths or layers we'd never spotted before. Enjoy the telling, because your life is interesting and worth listening to.
hugs
Hops
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Aw, Phyll, I have terrible problems with codependency, I've had so many issues in my life because of it. It's a hard one to shake off, especially if you are by nature a caring sort of a person. It's getting that balance, isn't it, and then trying to keep things on an even keel. Cancer as well, gosh that is all a lot to go through. I can understand the hormones/self esteem link, they do funny things to our heads while they do whatever else it is they do!
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Hopalong - Thank you for encouraging me to think and share about my childhood. I agree it is in the telling (our journaling) our stories that more comes out, more is revealed. And Twoapenny, I call it the ever elusive balance, as it is a moving target!
It has been a couple of very full days for me with travel and seeing health care providers. I learned from my surgeon the leg with the newest hip is a little bit short. I will need a lift for my shoe. And I was referred for PT as I lost ground with my recovery. I also saw a wound care specialist, as the very top of my incision is open - not infected, but want to keep it that way. And I met with the infectious disease specialist about the Lymes disease. She confirmed it was caught in the early dissemination phase. She prescribed another round of antibiotic, as the 2 other ones I had were not the "gold standard" for Lymes. She re-did some of my blood work. Got the results back and they show improvement with most within normal limits or nearly normal.
I had the infectious disease specialist laughing pretty hard at one point, as I shared a funny story from my job that she could relate to. Although it might not be reflected here, I am known to be pretty funny. As the youngest in my family, I was the in the classic role as Mascot. It was my job to lighten everything up and make people laugh. I am still good at it and can often cause a group of folks in a meeting to laugh out loud. So that has gotten me started to reflect on childhood memories which I will write about. It makes sense to keep it within this thread I think. But not tonight. I just took a walk with the dogs outside. I can go further without reliance on the quad cane now. I am going to have a bowl of ice cream and get some rest for now.
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My first conscious memory coincides with when our family moved to a new, 2 bedroom apartment when I was around 4 years old. I recall waking up in the back seat of the car, my head on my Mother's lap; as we pulled into the back parking lot. I remember thinking I had no previous memory, and thought, "This must be my Mom. This must be my family." I remember running around the kitchen and looking into empty drawers.
My Mother told me I was very upset over the move, that she even drove me back to the "Red House" to help me understand. I don't remember that.
I was named after my Mother. While my parents were thrilled to finally have a girl after 3 boys, I was told later financially another child was probably the last thing they needed. Apparently, we did not pay rent for 3 months at the Red House. Mom gathered up enough for 2 weeks rent to get the family of six into that 2 bedroom apartment.
There were a couple of things that happened around that time regarding my father's drinking. I am unsure of the time line of events. I was told my Mother had Dad committed to the State mental hospital at one point, for a 72 hour hold. Mom wanted to divorce him. His uncle talked her out of it, advising she might need him around with the 3 boys. Uncle A hired Mom to clean his house and prepare meals for him, and he paid her in cash.
There was also an incident in which my Dad was drunk and drove under a semi. My memory of visiting him at the hospital is very different from what my Mom and other family members reported. I recall knowing my Mom was really mad at him. He walked into the waiting room wearing his blue terry cloth robe. I ran up to hug him and said, "It's okay Daddy. We still love you."
The story I was told is that Dad's nose was pushed over to the side of his face, and that he looked horriffic when he entered the hospital waiting room. I am told I completely lost it and was inconsolable. It is amazing to me how my memory differs - I remember Dad looking quite normal, and I was calm and reassuring to him.
We lived in the 2 bedroom apartment until I was in the middle of 1st grade. The boys shared one bedroom and I was in a crib in my parents room. In the summer Grandpa (Dad's side) stayed with us. He slept in my parents bed and my parents slept in the living room. Our dining table was a picnic table with 2 benches.
The other memories I have from living there was Christmas Eve, watching Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer on the 6" B & W Sony TV with my brothers in their room. The next thing I knew my parents and brothers were waving goodbye to Santa out the back door. I could not push my way through to see outside. When I did they said he was gone. I looked on the roof of the apartment building next door and wondered why Santa was not delivering there next. That night my brother F told me there was no Santa. I was mad that he told me, because once he did I realized it was true. I also remember thinking he told me because he was jealous of the attention I was getting.
I am surprised by my ability to understand other's feelings with such intensity at such a young age.
My Dad worked as a Service Manager for a car dealership. We moved to another city when I was in the 1st grade, I believe because Dad got fired. The house we moved into was directly across the street from my Dad's new place of employment. It was a 3 bedroom, 2 story brick house. I shared a room with F, who was 2 years older than me. I was glad to finally have a real bed instead of the crib.
We were happy there for a couple of years/ Mom could keep a close eye on Dad. She taught Sunday School and became a Girl Scout / Brownie leader. I went to swimming lessons. I remember Mom spending a lot of time with me. She took me to the library and checked out many books. I read the Polly Anna - bright side of things and the whole series by Laura Ingalls Wilder.
Our family moved again to a smaller city of about 14,000 when I was in the middle of 3rd grade. Although my Dad lost jobs there too because of his drinking, it is the city in which I graduated from high school.
My Dad yelled a lot. He was frightening when he yelled. His face would get red, his eyes would bulge, and his whole body would shake. He would pound his fists on the table. He said and repeated awful things to us kids. I will save that for tomorrow.
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my ability to understand other's feelings with such intensity at such a young age.
Somehow this, and the moment when to rushed to reassure your father, remind me of how old souls with deep compassion so often are found in the young.
I'm sorry your father's addiction twisted him, and moved by how you could see him as whole, regardless. Your mother must have carried so much worry.
It's you who were whole, imo. A whole child, playing among broken pieces, yet always able to imagine them whole.
hugs
Hops
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Thank you Hopalong. I never know what might come out while telling my story. That event with my father reveals quite a bit. I wonder what will come up today.
As I said, my Dad yelled a lot. He was not necessarily violent. He never hit my Mom. She on the other hand did smash a plate over his head once. She told me the neighbors knocked on the door over the yelling, and said us kids picked up the mess in effort to hide what happened.
My Dad said things I cannot imagine saying to a child. I am sure it contributed to my poor self esteem. The following are a few of Dad's repeated rants:
-- You don't know nothing. You don't know a (G.D) thing. I'm right!
-- Eat it dammit or I'll cram it down your throat with the potato masher.
-- How stupid can you be!
To this day I jump at loud noises, whether I anticipate the noise or not. I also jump if someone comes up behind me.
____________________________________________________________________________
As an adult, it has helped to know my Mom and Dad's stories.
MOM: There was a terrible tragedy in my Mom's family. While she and her older brother were in school one day, their 4 year old brother got a hold of some matches and tried to build a fire in the back yard playhouse. My grandmother was alerted to a fire in the playhouse by a passer by. When she pulled Jr. out he was ashes. You can only imagine the ramifications that event had on the family.
When my Mother and her brother were in their senior years, they both told me during separate conversations the same story. The story went something like this, "We never made a big deal about birthdays growing up. In fact one year they forgot my birthday all together." Of course it was a big deal. Otherwise why would they still be talking about it in their 70s? They both learned how to put their Mother's needs ahead of their own. It is no surprise they both married alcoholics.
My Mom was always very pretty and very popular. She was homecoming queen.
DAD: Dad was born 12 years after his sister. He was named after his father, who was the principal of the local high school and superintendent of the areas schools. They called him Professor and he was known to be a very strict disciplinarian. He also held positions in the state and national education associations.
I had the pleasure of being able to conduct a survey at the nursing home in his home town through my job with the state. It was verified how strict he really was. One resident said he was strict with his wife too (my Grandmother), but said she did what she wanted regardless.
I get the feeling my Dad and his sister could never live up to Grandpa's expectations. They both became hopeless alcoholics. My Dad never drank until he went into the army. He fought in World War II. I know he was in battle and saw his friend get killed, Mom never let him talk about it in front of me.
My parents met when my Dad was visiting his Uncle A, and Mom was staying with her Uncle E who lived next door. Dad was very handsome, and according to Mom he had been around the world.
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A little bit about my Brothers:
My oldest brother B is 7 years older than me. He was the hero. He was pulling in cash from babysitting jobs and helping my parents out financially. At age 14 he built his own fishing boat and at age 15 he built a hydroplane speed boat. I remember him showing me how to build a shelf for my room.
In his senior year of high school he got into trouble. His girlfriend N got pregnant at age 16. One night B was very friendly and gave my brother F and I some money - 2 dollars each. I did not know he was drunk. That same night I heard yelling and saw my Dad breaking down the bathroom door. The next thing I knew B and Dad were rolling around the dining room floor, and B was swearing.
I was 10 years old and did not understand what was happening. And no one explained it to me. I only remember after the crises that night Mom telling me I felt wide awake because of the crisis. A few days later I made the mistake of asking at the dinner table where was B. Dad went into a tantrum. I later learned B was in jail. Apparently he had ripped off a liquor store and a local country club, and his car was full of stolen booze. That night on the dining room floor Dad was trying to get his keys and restrain him.
As a result of that my brother B went to Viet Nam. Fortunately he was smart enough to stay behind enemy lines and work on helicopters. After his girlfriend N had the baby they got married and N and my niece lived with us. This was significant to me as I learned at a young age it was no picnic having a baby. Poor N at 17 was not much better equipped at taking care of a baby than I was at 11, and brother F was at 12. We helped while N worked nights at the canning factory.
N was very insecure during the time she and baby BJ lived with us. I instinctively knew to be careful not to let the baby (BJ) show too much love towards me in front of N, or she would get jealous. Poor N got so depressed, she became very thin and patches of her hair fell out.
B and N did very well for themselves. After their 2nd child N went back to high school and got her diploma. Their first home was paid for in 10 years. They retired up north, in a home that B added onto. Unfortunately N passed away from a terminal disease this past December. I am so proud of how well B cared for her.
Brother D is 5 years older than me. He is a talented musician. He was in rock bands that practiced in our garage/attic spaces. He and his friends had long hair, the neighbors thought we had a topless woman running around outside. He was the Scapegoat of the family.
Brother F is 2 years older than me and he is the lost child. We were close growing up and hung out with the same friends in high school. Today it is hard to even have a phone conversation.
All that said, I will get on with my childhood in my next entry.
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Hey Skeptical! I just now saw your post. I will eventually get the hang of this! Thanks for telling me about your hollar and homesteading. I look forward to sharing with you more on that topic!
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You're welcome Phyll!
Talking about day to day, in between the deeper stuff, is still 'getting to know you' stuff, too.
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Despite my Mother's efforts to dress me up in pretty dresses, I was very much a Tom Boy from the very beginning. I was more interested in toy dump trucks than dolls, besides - the boys did unspeakable things to my Barbie dolls. Sometimes the boys teased me, especially F. He'd suggest playing "let's run away from (Phyll)" and once locked me in the storage cage in the basement of that first apartment building. I screamed my head off and was quickly rescued. Mom generally took my side in arguments with my brothers.
Once we moved to the smaller city when I was in 3rd grade, I was left unsupervised quite a bit, as Mom was working full time. My Grandmother passed away, and with my Mom's inheritance my folks bought a nice Victorian style house with 4 upstairs bedrooms a block from the lake. Grandpa still came to stay during the summers, driving up from Florida. He was a sweet elderly man to all of us. He lived to be 92 and passed away when I was in 5th grade.
I hung out with neighborhood friends and enjoyed good times with the park and recreation center, and a family with 8 kids. I was very good at softball and our team competed against other parks in the city. I went swimming in the lake all summer long. I became the lost child it seemed during the period between 5th and 7th grade, as I was never home. It was one of my favorite childhood times, with sleepovers, and games with a gang of kids. When the older kids began to leave the neighborhood (particularly T who I'd had a huge crush on) I was heart broken.
At our Mother's urging, a friend of mine did some volunteer work in a county-run day care center for children with developmental disabilities, which I truly enjoyed. We also had a crush on the male Director of the program.
Around 8th grade I began hanging out with different friends in different playgrounds. I began taking swigs of whiskey from my Dad's stash, while staying up late and watching concerts on TV. We never had a liquor cabinet at our house. Dad's bottles were always under the living room furniture. The first time I got drunk I was in 8th grade. I went to a dance at the local academy where one of my rich friends was a student. My brother D's band was playing that night. I had a blackout. I remembered the beginning of the night and the end of the night, but there was a big portion of the evening during which we walked a good mile between points A and B that I had no recollection of. When I got dropped off at home I was glad to see my Mom was in bed and my Dad was asleep on the couch. I snuck upstairs undetected. Once I laid down however -- I did not quite make it to the toilet. I spewed all over the newly remodeled bathroom with the shag carpeting. I spent half the night cleaning it up. Mom discovered me and the mess in the morning. I felt extremely guilty.
That year I wrote a paper on Alcoholism for science class. Mom suggested I write to the Council on Alcoholism for free literature. I used the literature to write my paper, and Mom helped me finish the typing. It seemed my Mom saw herself in that literature, and started going to AA. After about a year of AA, Mom started going to AlAnon. She told me years later it was because she blamed every problem in her life on Dad.
Mom's sobriety began about the time my drinking career started. By 10th grade I was out drinking several nights a week and smoking pot almost daily. All of a sudden it seemed Mom was wanting to know where I was and when I got home. I thought she did not trust me, as I had been allowed to do whatever I wanted for so long. It could be that while I was lost I was unaware of how much my Mother had been drinking.
At the time I wrote the paper on alcoholism, I went through the list of questions which were to help someone determine if they had a problem with alcohol or not. I knew what a "blackout" was, although I had never talked with anyone about it. I answered yes to enough questions to indicate I was an alcoholic. My denial was already intact however. To the question, "Do you hide your drinking?" I thought, "well what 8th grader wouldn't?!" It seemed to me at the time a justified point. (Looks pretty crazy to me from where I sit today.
To be continued...
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Oh, bless ya. (Said in a heartfelt-suthrun way, not the stab-you-in-the-back-with-polite-malice suthrun way, just to be clear!) :)
Such a strong, powerful, painful story. But so CLEARLY told.
As a writer I often focus on how the writing feels as I read, as much as the nuts and bolts of the plot. Sometimes I need to pay more attention to the plot, other times I just let the voice and the rhythms register first, and then the facts.
Those facts are stark. Sounds like in a way you saved your mother's life. But as of 8th grade, hadn't yet fully recognized the fragility/preciousness of your own.
Thanks for sharing, Phyll.
hugs
Hops
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Phyll, I just wanted to say that I am reading but we are moving house so I'm behind on replying to threads :) There are many things in yours that ring bells with me and I will reply properly as soon as I get the chance, I just wanted to say that I'm here, nodding encouragement and saying, "oh yeah, me too!" to a lot of it :) Will reply properly soon xx
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Hey Hero Members!
I know you are there and I know you are listening. : ) I appreciate your encouraging and supportive words. By telling my story I feel like I am accomplishing some important work.... I have worked these areas over before but in different ways. I am grateful for the opportunity to re-visit my childhood and seeing how the patterns and themes repeat over the years; what I have learned and can continue to learn from that; and what strengths and gifts have carried me through the years as well.
While in grade school at one point I had a female physical education instructor and that was what I told myself I wanted to be when I grew up. As a Tom Boy I loved sports. I was unable to succeed in many physical endeavors however, due to a couple of congenital conditions I had but did not know about until later in life. These included a hole in my heart and hip dysplasia.
I also had an attention deficit , the non hyperactive type. I would often find myself in a day dream at the most inopportune times. The "spacing out" seems involuntary. I thought everyone else was smarter than me because I would forget things. It was also later in life that I realized I was smarter than the average bear.
Atrial Septal Defect:
Mom once mentioned the doctor heard a heart murmur when I was born. She said when I came for my first check up the doctor no longer heard the murmur. When I was 24 I found out I had a hole between the atria (top 2 quadrants)of my heart. Apparently the hole did not close all the way when I was born and started breathing. If the hole had been between the ventricles the murmur would have been louder and more easily detected. My heart had to work hard to get oxygenated blood to my brain. They repaired it surgically - but I will get to that later.
Alcoholism was not the only thing I was in denial about while growing up. It was in the 5th grade that we learned how to check our pulse, and the difference between a resting and active heart rates. They had us all check our resting heart rate. As each student was asked to provide their number of beats per minute, the teacher recorded them on the chalk board in a continuum from highest to lowest. It had been explained that a high resting heart rate attributed to a person in poor health. Before it was my turn to report my heart rate it became clear to me that my resting heart rate of 96 beats per minute was indeed faster than average. If I was in poor health I automatically assumed it was my fault. I did not want anyone to know so I lied about my heart rate. I chose a number on the high end of average instead.
After we did the resting heart rate the teacher had us running up and down stairs. I was breathing so hard it hurt. I found that I could not do many sporting events very well if they involved a lot of running, such as Tennis or even basketball. Softball I could play because I often only ran a base or two.
I remember once telling my Mom that my heart fluttered sometimes. She assured me everyone's did that - it was normal.
I tried to hide how out of breath I became during sports. I remember once in high school while I was playing on an intramural basketball team, I was dribbling the ball and running from the opposite end of the court. I got so out of breath. Since no one was near me, I stopped at mid court and made the shot. It actually swished through the net without hitting the rim. We also would run the "600" every year in school. I hated that and my throat would hurt for days from breathing so hard.
In junior high our class divided into 2 groups, one to run the 600, the other to use the trampoline. I was in the 1st group to run the 600. Afterwards while standing at the trampoline I became very dizzy. I went to lay on the floor until I felt better. The instructor did not know as she was outside with the runners. I never reported the incident to anyone.
In high school when it came time to run the 600, I simply refused after that. The teacher did not push the issue and I was so grateful.
In college our basic education requirements included at least a couple of credits in physical education. I signed up for canoeing. A physical exam was required and performed by a nurse practitioner. During the exam the APNP asked if anyone ever told me I had a heart murmur. I recalled what my Mother had mentioned to me about when I was a baby. The APNP advised I might want to get it checked out, that it may or may not be a problem. From that point on I told every doctor who listened to my heart, "I have a murmur but its not a problem."
It was not until I was 24 years old and in my first professional job that I had my heart looked at. I was living with a boyfriend (CH) taking birth control pills, and had become over weight for the first time in my life. CH had been a navy corpsman, and had a stethoscope. I was experiencing while at rest a sensation that my heart was "flipping over in my chest." When I listened with the stethoscope I heard my heart skip a beat when this happened. I later learned this was a "pre-atrial contracture or PAC.
While working in the field with one of the older nurses on my team, I confided to her about the irregular heart beat. The next thing I knew we were calling it a day and were heading back to town. Since my boyfriend had the car my co-worker also took the rest of the day off, took me to her house, insisted I call the doctor, made me rest on her sofa and fed me home made pea soup. Never trust a nurse!
From there I got evaluated, tests were run and I had surgery. They sewed a dacron patch over the hole. Within 6 days post operation I was sent home on blood thinners. A week later I was back in the hospital with 2 liters of blood and fluid in my pericardium (lining around my heart). That whole ordeal also taught me how afraid I was to self-advocate for my health. I also found I had trouble communicating with male doctors. A couple of them had me reduced to tears. I did not know I was out of breath because I had been that way all my life!
After they tapped the fluid off and stopped the blood thinners I improved, except I experienced a chest pain syndrome that reoccurred for years. Never found out what caused it, the cardiologist said there was nothing wrong with my heart and kicked me out of his office. It was not until I started using a CPAP machine in my 40s for sleep apnea that I stopped having the pain in my chest.
It was also a blow to my self esteem to have a scar down the middle of my chest. Who knew there would be more of that to come.
So what happened to boyfriend CH? He was 10 years my senior and I was supporting him financially. About a month after my surgery we were up at my family cabin. I was not much interested in sex with a healing breast bone, but CH forced me. I got away eventually and was sleeping in the front room when my brother D and the band showed up. CH went home and I went home with brother D. I moved out after that.
So how does this relate to what is going on today? I will lie to W to avoid getting yelled at, just like I lied about my heart condition because I thought it was my fault. And I often think everything is my fault. Why is that? Because I had an alcoholic parent who blamed everyone else for his trouble? I felt as responsible for my Dad's angry outbursts as I do with W's. No wonder how angry I am with W over this latest health crisis because I knew I was sick, he didn't believe me, and he yelled at me for not doing well! Also, it is because of my income we can live the way we do, and that he has health insurance. He lost interest in sex a long time ago and there is very little affection.
Two of my friends have agreed to be my designated health care agent in the event I become incapacitated. I need to do the paperwork but it is at least something I can do now to protect myself from W being in a caregiver role with me if I cannot self-advocate.
One thing for certain, there are reasons I am still alive today. I may not realize what all of those reasons are, but I know I have helped many other people so far in my life. I survived a hole in my heart with sleep apnea while drinking heavy amounts of alcohol and experimenting with an assortment of substances in my teens and 20s. I am a sober miracle to say the least.
Will continue tomorrow.....
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When I was born I was one long, skinny baby! 6 pounds, no ounces and 22 inches long. My Mom said I was a "dry baby" meaning the amniotic fluid leaked throughout her pregnancy. When I needed my right hip replaced 6 years ago, I told the orthopedic surgeon I always seemed to have trouble with that right hip. I recalled complaining of groin pain to my parents when I was about 10. Whenever I put myself in the knee/chest position I could feel the right hip seem to slip out of the socket. So I read without sufficient amounts of fluid in the womb the baby is unable to move about as easily and may develop hip dysplasia. The surgeon confirmed he believed that was the case with me.
The surgery 6 years ago went without a hitch. I was up and walking 2 miles a day in no time. With this hip replacement I am still struggling. I wonder if my hips were why I could not get the knack of gymnastics.
So the ADD thing definitely hurts my self esteem. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I really thought most everyone was smarter than me, especially in College. (Even though I crammed 22 credits and somehow made the Dean's list in one semester of my final year. I was the youngest person to get hired at my job when I was 24 years old. It was not until I sobered up in my late 20s that I started to realize and was able to admit to self I was not a dummy.
It was a doctor who first told me I had ADD, when I was in my late 30s. I had some testing by a psychologist who said on a scale of 1 to 10, I was likely a 7. IQ testing showed a 19 point differential between my verbal IQ compared to my Performance IQ, which is considered significant. I guess I can talk a good story. Still I resisted trying medications for it, until my AODA counselor from years prior came to visit as she was teaching a class in the city I was living in. Turns out she found she had ADD when her son was evaluated. She had gone back to school and completed her Masters degree. That was as close as I would get to getting it in writing from God that it was okay to try medication. It does help but quickly wears off. W's criticisms of me are often a result of my issues with focus, but I suspect he has similar problems.
So this all seems to me to sound a bit boring for you. I do want to write about my relationship with my Dad growing up. Tomorrow then.
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Not boring at all, Phyl. I'm always interested in life stories, even when I don't comment on the blow by blow.
That heart condition must've been terrifying, but what will and drive you had to endure it and run anyway. And lucky not to have had a worse outcome.
I sympathize about the hip...a friend had a replacement not go well and though she's much better, the recovery has been very slow and she recognizes it'll not be, in her case, "like it was."
As to ADD, I feel ya! I was diagnosed at age 60 and it explained a LOT of my life and emotional struggles. Having that diagnosis was very healing but I'm still working on incorporating a kinder vision of myself when it comes to productivity. I blamed and criticized myself constantly for most of my adult life, but in the last decade I did develop a kinder approach.
I'd never berate someone else for something they couldn't help and dislike people who do. It's sad to realize you're living with someone who is unkind to you (worse, yells!) when you're ill. That really sucks.
Hope you can find support and courage to do something about that when you can. I can't imagine how hurtful it is.
Hops
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My first conscious memory coincides with when our family moved to a new, 2 bedroom apartment when I was around 4 years old. I recall waking up in the back seat of the car, my head on my Mother's lap; as we pulled into the back parking lot. I remember thinking I had no previous memory, and thought, "This must be my Mom. This must be my family." I remember running around the kitchen and looking into empty drawers.
My Mother told me I was very upset over the move, that she even drove me back to the "Red House" to help me understand. I don't remember that.
I was named after my Mother. While my parents were thrilled to finally have a girl after 3 boys, I was told later financially another child was probably the last thing they needed. Apparently, we did not pay rent for 3 months at the Red House. Mom gathered up enough for 2 weeks rent to get the family of six into that 2 bedroom apartment.
There were a couple of things that happened around that time regarding my father's drinking. I am unsure of the time line of events. I was told my Mother had Dad committed to the State mental hospital at one point, for a 72 hour hold. Mom wanted to divorce him. His uncle talked her out of it, advising she might need him around with the 3 boys. Uncle A hired Mom to clean his house and prepare meals for him, and he paid her in cash.
There was also an incident in which my Dad was drunk and drove under a semi. My memory of visiting him at the hospital is very different from what my Mom and other family members reported. I recall knowing my Mom was really mad at him. He walked into the waiting room wearing his blue terry cloth robe. I ran up to hug him and said, "It's okay Daddy. We still love you."
The story I was told is that Dad's nose was pushed over to the side of his face, and that he looked horriffic when he entered the hospital waiting room. I am told I completely lost it and was inconsolable. It is amazing to me how my memory differs - I remember Dad looking quite normal, and I was calm and reassuring to him.
We lived in the 2 bedroom apartment until I was in the middle of 1st grade. The boys shared one bedroom and I was in a crib in my parents room. In the summer Grandpa (Dad's side) stayed with us. He slept in my parents bed and my parents slept in the living room. Our dining table was a picnic table with 2 benches.
The other memories I have from living there was Christmas Eve, watching Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer on the 6" B & W Sony TV with my brothers in their room. The next thing I knew my parents and brothers were waving goodbye to Santa out the back door. I could not push my way through to see outside. When I did they said he was gone. I looked on the roof of the apartment building next door and wondered why Santa was not delivering there next. That night my brother F told me there was no Santa. I was mad that he told me, because once he did I realized it was true. I also remember thinking he told me because he was jealous of the attention I was getting.
I am surprised by my ability to understand other's feelings with such intensity at such a young age.
My Dad worked as a Service Manager for a car dealership. We moved to another city when I was in the 1st grade, I believe because Dad got fired. The house we moved into was directly across the street from my Dad's new place of employment. It was a 3 bedroom, 2 story brick house. I shared a room with F, who was 2 years older than me. I was glad to finally have a real bed instead of the crib.
We were happy there for a couple of years/ Mom could keep a close eye on Dad. She taught Sunday School and became a Girl Scout / Brownie leader. I went to swimming lessons. I remember Mom spending a lot of time with me. She took me to the library and checked out many books. I read the Polly Anna - bright side of things and the whole series by Laura Ingalls Wilder.
Our family moved again to a smaller city of about 14,000 when I was in the middle of 3rd grade. Although my Dad lost jobs there too because of his drinking, it is the city in which I graduated from high school.
My Dad yelled a lot. He was frightening when he yelled. His face would get red, his eyes would bulge, and his whole body would shake. He would pound his fists on the table. He said and repeated awful things to us kids. I will save that for tomorrow.
You have a good delivery of the memories, Phyll, it's hard to recount events succinctly, I think, and you're right, personal memories can vary so much from one person to another. I wonder if in childhood we muddle some memories up and attribute them to different events at times. I think adults sometimes gloss over things to their kids as well - I know my mum used to come up with a retelling of a story that made her look wonderful and my sister and I would just sit there looking at one another - not the way it went down at all!
I'm sorry your dad was scary when he was angry. I think if you're a very intuitive child (and it sounds like you were) then it's even harder to cope with that. I think we feel responsible and then try to fix it and keep everyone happy - certainly that's the cause of the codependency in my case. And I was devastated when I found out Father Christmas wasn't real! I was about eight, I think, and I think the world changed for me when I found out that wasn't true :( It's funny what we cling to as kids and how affected by those things we can be. Sounds tough for your mum as well, coping with your dad's drinking and the job changes. I'm glad there is less pressure now on women to stay with men who aren't good for them. Are your folks still around? Sorry if you've already said, I've been skipping through posts and might have missed it xx
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Thank you Hopalong. I never know what might come out while telling my story. That event with my father reveals quite a bit. I wonder what will come up today.
As I said, my Dad yelled a lot. He was not necessarily violent. He never hit my Mom. She on the other hand did smash a plate over his head once. She told me the neighbors knocked on the door over the yelling, and said us kids picked up the mess in effort to hide what happened.
My Dad said things I cannot imagine saying to a child. I am sure it contributed to my poor self esteem. The following are a few of Dad's repeated rants:
-- You don't know nothing. You don't know a (G.D) thing. I'm right!
-- Eat it dammit or I'll cram it down your throat with the potato masher.
-- How stupid can you be!
To this day I jump at loud noises, whether I anticipate the noise or not. I also jump if someone comes up behind me.
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As an adult, it has helped to know my Mom and Dad's stories.
MOM: There was a terrible tragedy in my Mom's family. While she and her older brother were in school one day, their 4 year old brother got a hold of some matches and tried to build a fire in the back yard playhouse. My grandmother was alerted to a fire in the playhouse by a passer by. When she pulled Jr. out he was ashes. You can only imagine the ramifications that event had on the family.
When my Mother and her brother were in their senior years, they both told me during separate conversations the same story. The story went something like this, "We never made a big deal about birthdays growing up. In fact one year they forgot my birthday all together." Of course it was a big deal. Otherwise why would they still be talking about it in their 70s? They both learned how to put their Mother's needs ahead of their own. It is no surprise they both married alcoholics.
My Mom was always very pretty and very popular. She was homecoming queen.
DAD: Dad was born 12 years after his sister. He was named after his father, who was the principal of the local high school and superintendent of the areas schools. They called him Professor and he was known to be a very strict disciplinarian. He also held positions in the state and national education associations.
I had the pleasure of being able to conduct a survey at the nursing home in his home town through my job with the state. It was verified how strict he really was. One resident said he was strict with his wife too (my Grandmother), but said she did what she wanted regardless.
I get the feeling my Dad and his sister could never live up to Grandpa's expectations. They both became hopeless alcoholics. My Dad never drank until he went into the army. He fought in World War II. I know he was in battle and saw his friend get killed, Mom never let him talk about it in front of me.
My parents met when my Dad was visiting his Uncle A, and Mom was staying with her Uncle E who lived next door. Dad was very handsome, and according to Mom he had been around the world.
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A little bit about my Brothers:
My oldest brother B is 7 years older than me. He was the hero. He was pulling in cash from babysitting jobs and helping my parents out financially. At age 14 he built his own fishing boat and at age 15 he built a hydroplane speed boat. I remember him showing me how to build a shelf for my room.
In his senior year of high school he got into trouble. His girlfriend N got pregnant at age 16. One night B was very friendly and gave my brother F and I some money - 2 dollars each. I did not know he was drunk. That same night I heard yelling and saw my Dad breaking down the bathroom door. The next thing I knew B and Dad were rolling around the dining room floor, and B was swearing.
I was 10 years old and did not understand what was happening. And no one explained it to me. I only remember after the crises that night Mom telling me I felt wide awake because of the crisis. A few days later I made the mistake of asking at the dinner table where was B. Dad went into a tantrum. I later learned B was in jail. Apparently he had ripped off a liquor store and a local country club, and his car was full of stolen booze. That night on the dining room floor Dad was trying to get his keys and restrain him.
As a result of that my brother B went to Viet Nam. Fortunately he was smart enough to stay behind enemy lines and work on helicopters. After his girlfriend N had the baby they got married and N and my niece lived with us. This was significant to me as I learned at a young age it was no picnic having a baby. Poor N at 17 was not much better equipped at taking care of a baby than I was at 11, and brother F was at 12. We helped while N worked nights at the canning factory.
N was very insecure during the time she and baby BJ lived with us. I instinctively knew to be careful not to let the baby (BJ) show too much love towards me in front of N, or she would get jealous. Poor N got so depressed, she became very thin and patches of her hair fell out.
B and N did very well for themselves. After their 2nd child N went back to high school and got her diploma. Their first home was paid for in 10 years. They retired up north, in a home that B added onto. Unfortunately N passed away from a terminal disease this past December. I am so proud of how well B cared for her.
Brother D is 5 years older than me. He is a talented musician. He was in rock bands that practiced in our garage/attic spaces. He and his friends had long hair, the neighbors thought we had a topless woman running around outside. He was the Scapegoat of the family.
Brother F is 2 years older than me and he is the lost child. We were close growing up and hung out with the same friends in high school. Today it is hard to even have a phone conversation.
All that said, I will get on with my childhood in my next entry.
((((Phyll))))))) I think there is so much tragedy running through some families (probably most). And so much unknown - trauma and fear that was just never mentioned, bedded down instead with drink or violence or obsessive cleaning - so many ways to block out feelings. And I think each generation has society's expectations to deal with as they deal with their problems, whatever they may be. And probably quite limited medical options in some situations as well, to deal with things like depression and alcohol related difficulties. It's so sad. I found it hard to be angry for a really long time. I knew my mum had a horrible childhood and a very difficult adult life as well. So for a long time not doing what she wanted - what I knew soothed her and made her feel better - felt like kicking a puppy. I had to get to my own anger, though, and like your father in some ways, sometimes my anger explodes and is difficult for me to control. I'm sometimes angry in front of my son, but not at him. I do talk to him about my anger problems. I hope it isn't impacting on him in a bad way. My current T has suggested I clean furiously or do high speed gardening to get it out of my system at times :) I found it tough to be tough enough on my mum to actually start meeting my own needs. I don't know if you've found the same thing? xx
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Thanks Twoapenny for your thoughtful replies and questions. Especially while you are preparing for the big move with your son.
My parents are no longer living. My Dad died at the age of 62 when I was 26 years old. My Mom lived to be 76 and died in 2003. I see many similarities with being an adult child of an alcoholic and an adult child of a narcissist; yet I see many differences as well. Like you described your mum's version of stories crafted to make her look so much better than what was real - I can see W and his Mom doing the same. With my Dad, it was dealing with lies, disappointments, excuses, and embarrassments.
I can relate to repressions, suppressions and expressions of anger. My rage is always right beneath the surface. While I was drunk, two of my boyfriends sustained black eyes from me. Those were the only times in my life I ever hit anyone. I lose my temper arguing with W, at times to the brink of feeling like I am going to lose control. This morning was one of those days. I think I will start a new thread regarding those experiences for feedback.
I like what you said about societal expectations impacting how different generations deal with tragedy and dysfunction, that is so true.
It seems to be a fine or even blurry line between when I am stuffing my feelings and when I have turned over the things I cannot control. I remember as my Mom got into AlAnon, when I talked with her about my feelings with Dad - she said things (or I interpreted what she said) as completely discounting my feelings. Like, "Don't be mad (hurt), he's an alcoholic and he was drunk." I grew weary of having to be the adult in the relationship to avoid getting my feelings hurt.
I loved both of my parents. Despite my Dad's terminal alcoholism, he was able to demonstrate thoughtfulness, empathy, and values that I admired. Examples:
- He always worked. If he lost a job he always got another right away.
- My Mom told me a story about the time after my niece was born, someone making the comment that the baby might not be my Brother's. My Dad was adamant saying, "It is too late for that!" He was committed to that baby no matter what.
- One evening when I was in about 6th grade my girlfriend came over unannounced. She was crying and I sat with her on the front porch trying to console her. She was emotionally distraught over an incident with her Dad. My Dad poked his head out, urged us to come inside, said we did not have to tell him what was going on but we did not have to be outside. He gave us space.
- My brother D told me of the time he was 24, after he broke up with a woman he had lived with who had 2 little boys. Dad found D sitting on the sofa when he came home for lunch one day. Dad sat next to him, put his arm around him and they both cried. D told me, "He didn't say a word. He didn't have to."
So Dad had a good heart. He had opportunities to parent me. I often went fishing by myself and he was the one to help me clean, cook and eat the fish I caught. During the school years I walked home for lunch. Dad met me there without fail and we ate lunch together. During my senior year of high school he picked me up for lunch and after I got a credit for volunteer work at the nursing home near our home.
He was not so well behaved when it came to me having boyfriends as I reached my teenage years....
(To be continued...)
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Seeing truth, through eyes unclouded by emotion, is an amazing feat, P.
Lighter
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My heart tore over N's life, short and cheated--and felt for all of you.
A very diificult saga from which strength and survivors were born.
Hops
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continuing....
As each of my older brothers moved out of the house it seemed I stepped into the next role within the family. I went from Mascot, to Lost Child, to Scapegoat, and finally to Hero.
As a teenager I was picked up by police while smoking pot. They called my parents to pick me up and of course my Dad was pretty drunk. At the time I was not receptive, but looking back I appreciate the officer who told me the drinking and the pot were the same problem. For me it turned out to be true. I tried so hard to control my drinking by getting high. It didn't work.
My father was devastated to learn his daughter was "on drugs." His crisis became on opportunity for him to get treatment for his alcoholism. I had to go to court which my Mom went to by herself. They issued 3 months observation. I had no idea at the time my Mom feared the authorities might take me away from her.
I don't recall if it was after the first treatment, but my Dad sobered up for about 7 months. I realized it was the only time in my life I saw him sober. He otherwise always had alcohol in his system. He still had a short fuse, but was much less irrational.
In the summer before my senior year my Mom had a heart attack. I remember my Brother D - who had moved back home told me as I walked into the house. The ambulance had been called. My Mom was emptying her purse of packages of cigarettes.
While Mom was in the hospital my Dad began drinking again. I will never forget the look of disappointment on her face when I went so see her in the hospital and Dad was sitting their drunk.
There was much tension in the house between brother D and my Dad at that time. D had a woman in the bedroom, Dad did not like it (she didn't have to be so noisy about it IMO) and there was a verbal altercation following Dad opening the bedroom door.
After Mom returned home from triple by-pass heart surgery my brother D began pressuring Mom to leave Dad. I felt she was in no condition to get a divorce at that time. I told brother D he did not need to live in the house and to leave Mom alone. He resented my saying so but he did move out.
My Mom raised me to never be financially dependent on a man. It was her goal that I would have letters after my name (and possibly no letters after my name either). She did all the paperwork for financial aid. I worked summers at the canning factory, and was able to earn a degree within 4 years from the State University. I nearly flunked out my first year at the university extension, but was accepted to continue on academic probation. Back then anything over 12 credits a semester was free. I had a lot of catching up to do and took 22 and 19 credits during that last year to graduate.
The summer before my last year of college I assured Mom I would graduate. I encouraged her to get a divorce. She had been sober 7 years and I hated to see how unhappy she was. I don't know how she managed, as they were legally separated while living in the same house. They had a double mortgage and bill collectors calling. At one point we took all of the hunting rifles out of the house because Dad threatened to kill himself - and said if he had to die so did she. Mom had locked him out that time and when he took an axe to the back door she escaped out the front and ran to brother F's house. (Why did she not call the police?)
After my folks sold the house they moved into their own apartments. It broke my heart to see my Dad cry, and Mom told me she could not have done it without my support. Tears come to my eyes as I write this. I think this is why I am paralyzed in my own situation, and I do not have a close family member to support me.
My Dad did not stay long in that apartment. He answered an add in the paper and took up with a widow in town. They got married. She could not hold a candle to my Mom and had no idea what she had gotten herself into. She invited us kids to a combination Birthday and Father's Day celebration for Dad. In the invitation she wrote, "From what I gather none of you kids ever paid much attention to your Dad. I think it is time you did." None of us went. What did she expect? As my brother D put it (he always had a way with sarcasm) - we would all show up and say, "We hate our Mom now. Fuck her."
About 5 years into their marriage my Dad lost his job (again). When I spoke to his wife on the phone she told me he would be starting to sell used cars for someone else. I said that was good to hear as he did not handle being off work for any period of time. She replied, "...and the liquor store is right around the corner and that doesn't work either!" It was the 1st time I had heard her even come close to recognizing my Dad's drinking without assigning blame to us or my Mom. (That always hurt because I knew the blame was generated from my Dad.) A week later she had a massive coronary and died.
Dad's wife left enough money for Dad to buy a mobile home. It was a nice double wide, and the salesman in him purchased it for a song.
In the mean time, my Dad's Uncle A had put his entire estate in my Mother's name (even before my parents divorced). When Mom divorced Dad, Uncle A told her she was right, she should have divorced him. Uncle A had been a widow for years, and their only son (Dad's cousin) died of a sports injury when he was 17 years old.
Uncle A died the summer after I graduated from college. No one from my Dad's side of the family, (including my Dad) contested the Will. Mom and I moving into that house was like moving back home. I had spent many times in that house while Mom did the cleaning, until we moved away when I was in 1st grade.
My parents never stopped loving each other. Mom demonstrated to all of us acceptance of his illness and how to lovingly detach. Dad did not live long after his wife died. It was nice how my Mom could be a part of the family for my Dad's funeral.
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Today I noticed I graduated from Newbie to Jr. Member! :D
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Congrats, Phyll!
We need a Certificate of Hanging In.
:)
Hops
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:lol:
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Hey Hero Members!
I know you are there and I know you are listening. : ) I appreciate your encouraging and supportive words. By telling my story I feel like I am accomplishing some important work.... I have worked these areas over before but in different ways. I am grateful for the opportunity to re-visit my childhood and seeing how the patterns and themes repeat over the years; what I have learned and can continue to learn from that; and what strengths and gifts have carried me through the years as well.
While in grade school at one point I had a female physical education instructor and that was what I told myself I wanted to be when I grew up. As a Tom Boy I loved sports. I was unable to succeed in many physical endeavors however, due to a couple of congenital conditions I had but did not know about until later in life. These included a hole in my heart and hip dysplasia.
I also had an attention deficit , the non hyperactive type. I would often find myself in a day dream at the most inopportune times. The "spacing out" seems involuntary. I thought everyone else was smarter than me because I would forget things. It was also later in life that I realized I was smarter than the average bear.
Atrial Septal Defect:
Mom once mentioned the doctor heard a heart murmur when I was born. She said when I came for my first check up the doctor no longer heard the murmur. When I was 24 I found out I had a hole between the atria (top 2 quadrants)of my heart. Apparently the hole did not close all the way when I was born and started breathing. If the hole had been between the ventricles the murmur would have been louder and more easily detected. My heart had to work hard to get oxygenated blood to my brain. They repaired it surgically - but I will get to that later.
Alcoholism was not the only thing I was in denial about while growing up. It was in the 5th grade that we learned how to check our pulse, and the difference between a resting and active heart rates. They had us all check our resting heart rate. As each student was asked to provide their number of beats per minute, the teacher recorded them on the chalk board in a continuum from highest to lowest. It had been explained that a high resting heart rate attributed to a person in poor health. Before it was my turn to report my heart rate it became clear to me that my resting heart rate of 96 beats per minute was indeed faster than average. If I was in poor health I automatically assumed it was my fault. I did not want anyone to know so I lied about my heart rate. I chose a number on the high end of average instead.
After we did the resting heart rate the teacher had us running up and down stairs. I was breathing so hard it hurt. I found that I could not do many sporting events very well if they involved a lot of running, such as Tennis or even basketball. Softball I could play because I often only ran a base or two.
I remember once telling my Mom that my heart fluttered sometimes. She assured me everyone's did that - it was normal.
I tried to hide how out of breath I became during sports. I remember once in high school while I was playing on an intramural basketball team, I was dribbling the ball and running from the opposite end of the court. I got so out of breath. Since no one was near me, I stopped at mid court and made the shot. It actually swished through the net without hitting the rim. We also would run the "600" every year in school. I hated that and my throat would hurt for days from breathing so hard.
In junior high our class divided into 2 groups, one to run the 600, the other to use the trampoline. I was in the 1st group to run the 600. Afterwards while standing at the trampoline I became very dizzy. I went to lay on the floor until I felt better. The instructor did not know as she was outside with the runners. I never reported the incident to anyone.
In high school when it came time to run the 600, I simply refused after that. The teacher did not push the issue and I was so grateful.
In college our basic education requirements included at least a couple of credits in physical education. I signed up for canoeing. A physical exam was required and performed by a nurse practitioner. During the exam the APNP asked if anyone ever told me I had a heart murmur. I recalled what my Mother had mentioned to me about when I was a baby. The APNP advised I might want to get it checked out, that it may or may not be a problem. From that point on I told every doctor who listened to my heart, "I have a murmur but its not a problem."
It was not until I was 24 years old and in my first professional job that I had my heart looked at. I was living with a boyfriend (CH) taking birth control pills, and had become over weight for the first time in my life. CH had been a navy corpsman, and had a stethoscope. I was experiencing while at rest a sensation that my heart was "flipping over in my chest." When I listened with the stethoscope I heard my heart skip a beat when this happened. I later learned this was a "pre-atrial contracture or PAC.
While working in the field with one of the older nurses on my team, I confided to her about the irregular heart beat. The next thing I knew we were calling it a day and were heading back to town. Since my boyfriend had the car my co-worker also took the rest of the day off, took me to her house, insisted I call the doctor, made me rest on her sofa and fed me home made pea soup. Never trust a nurse!
From there I got evaluated, tests were run and I had surgery. They sewed a dacron patch over the hole. Within 6 days post operation I was sent home on blood thinners. A week later I was back in the hospital with 2 liters of blood and fluid in my pericardium (lining around my heart). That whole ordeal also taught me how afraid I was to self-advocate for my health. I also found I had trouble communicating with male doctors. A couple of them had me reduced to tears. I did not know I was out of breath because I had been that way all my life!
After they tapped the fluid off and stopped the blood thinners I improved, except I experienced a chest pain syndrome that reoccurred for years. Never found out what caused it, the cardiologist said there was nothing wrong with my heart and kicked me out of his office. It was not until I started using a CPAP machine in my 40s for sleep apnea that I stopped having the pain in my chest.
It was also a blow to my self esteem to have a scar down the middle of my chest. Who knew there would be more of that to come.
So what happened to boyfriend CH? He was 10 years my senior and I was supporting him financially. About a month after my surgery we were up at my family cabin. I was not much interested in sex with a healing breast bone, but CH forced me. I got away eventually and was sleeping in the front room when my brother D and the band showed up. CH went home and I went home with brother D. I moved out after that.
So how does this relate to what is going on today? I will lie to W to avoid getting yelled at, just like I lied about my heart condition because I thought it was my fault. And I often think everything is my fault. Why is that? Because I had an alcoholic parent who blamed everyone else for his trouble? I felt as responsible for my Dad's angry outbursts as I do with W's. No wonder how angry I am with W over this latest health crisis because I knew I was sick, he didn't believe me, and he yelled at me for not doing well! Also, it is because of my income we can live the way we do, and that he has health insurance. He lost interest in sex a long time ago and there is very little affection.
Two of my friends have agreed to be my designated health care agent in the event I become incapacitated. I need to do the paperwork but it is at least something I can do now to protect myself from W being in a caregiver role with me if I cannot self-advocate.
One thing for certain, there are reasons I am still alive today. I may not realize what all of those reasons are, but I know I have helped many other people so far in my life. I survived a hole in my heart with sleep apnea while drinking heavy amounts of alcohol and experimenting with an assortment of substances in my teens and 20s. I am a sober miracle to say the least.
Will continue tomorrow.....
I'm still catching up, Phyll, so I know you wrote this a while ago now but - phew! It's kind of revealing and scary, I think, when we start writing down things that have happened over the years. You kind of wonder how on earth you managed it all - dealing with health problems that no-one else knew were there (or wouldn't acknowledge in some way), trying to keep parents and teachers happy, keeping up with friends, wanting to fit in, assuming responsibility for things that are other people's fault or no-one's fault at all, it's such a lot. And then that awful boyfriend raping you and you just going home after. My heart broke a little bit for you there, I think it's just that sense that you aren't even there - they/he wants something, he's getting it, you're just not relevant to the process. So awful. And I wonder how many people have awful things happen and just go home or go to work/school etc as normal. This big event going on inside them and no-one notices. I am glad you've got these friends in place to organise healthcare decisions for you, Phyll, I think you need that just in case. I'm sorry W shows many of the same things you've had to cope with in the past already - and you've got your mad neighbour as well! Sheesh. None of us wants to live in isolation but sometimes it does feel like the only way to keep the nutters at bay. I'm glad you're here, Phyll, and I'm hoping to catch up with more as my own dramas are subsiding now :) xx
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As ever, Tupp nails it in a phrase:
This big event going on inside them and no-one notices.
I don't know any answer. Except to keep telling, keep telling, keep telling until someone believes you. Telling takes it out into the light, whereas when it stays muffled inside you, nobody CAN notice.
I think when the worst things happened to me, I would eventually start to tell others and tell and tell...but in a weird way, I had never told myself. About the pain or harm and particularly, that these were unacceptable.
My previous T once said to me that he believed I'd acclimated myself to a certain level of abusive behavior. That in some way I communicated in relationships that it would be okay to treat me badly. I'd trained myself to forgive too much and worked too hard to understand everybody else, and so it took many years before I loved and understood myself.
That's when I learned things like -- sensitivity is what it is and if I can't handle being yelled at, that is reality and I am allowed to be myself and recoil or go away from that. Pain is what it is and I don't have to be tough. Anger is what it is and if I am gratitutiously hurt, I am allowed to be angry about that as long as I don't get stuck in it.
Also, I think about my dog, who cowered and trembled over many things when I first got her (she'd had a very hard life and much fear and pain). Watching her respond to gentleness, loving touch, compassion, patience, protection and humor over time was just incredible. (She's now a sweet and confident doggy diva.)
It amazes me how long it's taken for me to see myself as entitled to those healing things too.
But I also think it just doesn't matter how long it takes or how old we are when it sinks in. We get our insights every day, we have choices every day, and the present is the only time we have.
Hope things continue to get better for you Phyll. Hope speaking out here, telling and telling, is helping.
hugs
Hops
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When I was born I was one long, skinny baby! 6 pounds, no ounces and 22 inches long. My Mom said I was a "dry baby" meaning the amniotic fluid leaked throughout her pregnancy. When I needed my right hip replaced 6 years ago, I told the orthopedic surgeon I always seemed to have trouble with that right hip. I recalled complaining of groin pain to my parents when I was about 10. Whenever I put myself in the knee/chest position I could feel the right hip seem to slip out of the socket. So I read without sufficient amounts of fluid in the womb the baby is unable to move about as easily and may develop hip dysplasia. The surgeon confirmed he believed that was the case with me.
The surgery 6 years ago went without a hitch. I was up and walking 2 miles a day in no time. With this hip replacement I am still struggling. I wonder if my hips were why I could not get the knack of gymnastics.
So the ADD thing definitely hurts my self esteem. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I really thought most everyone was smarter than me, especially in College. (Even though I crammed 22 credits and somehow made the Dean's list in one semester of my final year. I was the youngest person to get hired at my job when I was 24 years old. It was not until I sobered up in my late 20s that I started to realize and was able to admit to self I was not a dummy.
It was a doctor who first told me I had ADD, when I was in my late 30s. I had some testing by a psychologist who said on a scale of 1 to 10, I was likely a 7. IQ testing showed a 19 point differential between my verbal IQ compared to my Performance IQ, which is considered significant. I guess I can talk a good story. Still I resisted trying medications for it, until my AODA counselor from years prior came to visit as she was teaching a class in the city I was living in. Turns out she found she had ADD when her son was evaluated. She had gone back to school and completed her Masters degree. That was as close as I would get to getting it in writing from God that it was okay to try medication. It does help but quickly wears off. W's criticisms of me are often a result of my issues with focus, but I suspect he has similar problems.
So this all seems to me to sound a bit boring for you. I do want to write about my relationship with my Dad growing up. Tomorrow then.
Gosh, Phyll, is it the same hip you've had replaced again or the one on the other side this time? It's odd how things can go well one time and not the next - I know someone who had both of hers done (not at the same time, a couple of years apart) but she had the same - really easy recovery with the first one and not so much with the second. I hope it's all starting to ease into itself a bit now?
I do always wonder how much conditions like ADD, autism and various other things overlap with difficult/abusive families, and whether things like alcoholism creep in as parents/grandparents/great grandparents had to cope with these conditions without recognition/diagnosis/self understanding and so on. I wonder what would happen if everyone could get a whole spectrum of tests done for all sorts of different things so that anything that showed up could be tweaked and adjusted a little, if need be, and if that would make people's lives easier. It's always so hard to know with these things. I'm glad you did get that diagnosis eventually and that you were able to try the meds (even if they don't last long! Lol) xx
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I struggle every day (or more honestly, don't struggle and give up too easily) with ADD. I was diagnosed at age 60, which had two effects:
1) relief and elation that there was some explanation for why many "adulting" tasks were so filled with anxiety for me. It lifted anvils of shame and self-loathing off my shoulders.
2) grief that I suffered so much from not knowing this about my own brain. But I can't blame anybody...people simply didn't know enough about this when I was young. And they underdiagnosed it in girls all the time. (I don't have the "H" in ADHD, except in one form...it tends to trigger interrupting, which I've nearly mastered now. Only took 7 decades!)
Glad you're telling your stories, Phyl. You sound very strong to me.
hugs
Hops
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Everyone needs empathy, P.
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Reading these quotes and going back over my story writing I think, "Did I write that?" I have been pretty busy the last week or two.
W's attitude has returned. He seems to cycle. Likely has more than one personality disorder going on.
He gets very needy - first thing in the morning he is talking, talking, talking - before the ADD med kicks in, and before I pour a cup of coffee. He is always up earlier with the dogs. With my sleep apnea it takes me awhile to wake up. That is when he wants my undivided attention, criticizes me if I get distracted, if I express an opinion he gets mad and accuses me of arguing with him. Then I cannot get one word in when he interrupts. His criticisms sound like a projection of himself, not me when he accuses me of being self-absorbed. If the news is on he talks over the TV about what he thinks. He gets mad when I ask him to let me listen , to not talk over the TV, or to at least pause the program if he wants to say something. With the news, I prefer to chew my own food - not swallow his regurgitation of what he thinks is news. He groans and complains over the commercials, the coverage..... I often will give up on the news and crawl in the bathroom and play a game on my phone to get away from it. He controls the TV, what we watch and when we watch it. I don't really care - I would rather read, do some art work, or write to friends (like you gals). He also does all the cooking, decides what we eat and when. I let that go too, he is a good cook but then complains cuz he does all the work. When I traveled for work he would ask me what I ate for lunch. No boundaries with him. I would tell him what I eat is not his concern. It is all about control. This past week I hardly got time to read my e-mails before he would complain that I was isolating upstairs.
Much of this was triggered over his seeing a new doctor. Our doctor left her practice suddenly. He needed someone to prescribe his prednisone for his polymyalgia. Turns out his blood pressure is sky high. No wonder all the pressure he puts on thinking he has to run everything.
Then there was the other neighbor who comes up on weekends - burning toxic crap in his camp fire 24/7 - making W sick. Not sure if he is disposing waste oil for beer money or getting rid of meth waste - the smoke is blue and it stinks. Cannot get the DNR or the Town to investigate or make him stop. It began last summer when W got really sick, after the neighbor bought the property. He tore down an old trailer on the property, and made it disappear by burying it and burning it - siding, insulation and all.
Initially I found myself walking on egg shells, then getting really rageful and yelling back at W. Then I worked on adjusting my attitude. He does work hard around here, is still building fence around our property, and finished building the deck and back yard enclosure within our 6.7 acres. I focused on helping him with the fence and staining the decks, showed concern over his health problems. If he said I was arguing, I ignored him and walked away.
I have always been too good at understanding why a man in my life was being abusive. I thought I was so clever to figure those things out, and to have the capacity to have such insight. It has taken life-threatening conditions to realize how much denial I was in about the damage that abuse was doing to me.
I have done so much work in this area, yet here I am. Learning to live with it because I don't want to face the guilt if I left after all the work he has done (all the money I spent) and now his health is bad.
I do appreciate the support I am getting from this group. But then I feel like I am taking hostages because I am unwilling to leave him to change the situation that brought me to need the support in the first place.
Guilt, shame and unworthiness. Hmmmm .... I don't like the sound of that. I don't conclude with that. I am a strong, caring, loving, and worthwhile person with much to offer. Thanks for being here. Goodnight.
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I think understanding why people are abusive (or addicts or anything else that they may be) can quite literally be the death of some people. I've slowly come to realise as the years have gone by that I can understand why someone is the way they are, without having to fix that, deal with their behaviour, accept what they dish out and so on. I think it was hardest with my mum. I knew how much she'd gone through as a child, and then there were many problems in her adult life (I completely understand why she drinks - it's a very effective way to just block things out quickly). I've always found it much harder to get away from people and stay away from them because I can 'get' how people are the way they are. Do you think growing up in certain kinds of families makes you very resilient, too? I'm amazed at how much I've coped with at times - way more than a lot of other people I know could have done. But I had to rely on myself from a young age, I'm used to my needs not being met, I'm used to feeling bad about myself and sad, lonely etc. So I've found it hard to extricate myself from situations - I'm used to coping, rather than being happy. Does it feel like that for you as well?
Your rubbish burning neighbour sounds awful. Is that the same one that you have the restraining order against or is this another crazy one? People can be so thoughtless. I think some people equate 'rural' with 'I can do what I like'. No thought for how it may affect other people. Sounds revolting.
W's behaviour sounds very tiring to deal with. Do you think the blood pressure meds will calm things down a bit again? It sounds very difficult for you to keep coping with. I'm sorry you're having to deal with so much xx
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Thank you for your reply Tupp. Yes, it is hard to extricate myself from these situations, for many of the reasons you described. Especially when the house is in my name and they won't leave. So what did I do? I married W after living with him for 12 years! I don't think the BP meds will make a difference, but I hope you are right. He has not started on any yet.
Last night Peanut (dog #3) came upstairs to get me because she had to go out. W fell asleep on the couch. When I came down stairs he started yelling at me to get upstairs - that he would let her out. He scared Peanut and when I tried to coax her to go out with W he yelled at me some more. I don't know what else I should have done so I yelled back and went to bed.
The burning guy is not the same neighbor as the one with the restraining order. We heard back from the Warden. After talking with his Supervisor (who we talked to the weekend before last), he said to call or text the next time the guy is burning and he will check it out. Hope he can catch him in the act. It is not wood he is burning. The smoke is blue, hangs in the air and stinks.
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I sure hope you can trap Sir Stinky in the act and that the law will deal with him, since a neighborly conscience is missing. UGH. Wouldn't be surprising if that's added to W's medical woes.
Speaking of woes, I don't think any amount of helpful manly work compensates for yelling and being emotionally abusive any time he's triggered to (sounds like most triggers are in his head, as well). I think you need a domestic violence hotline not because he would be beating you, but because they understand also and are trained to listen and help with the issues of emotional and verbal abuse.
They can damage you just as much as blows, some DV survivors say. Words and volume can be used in a violent way. I couldn't bear being yelled at, and it was the number one reason I left my first husband.
I hope you'll decide to be a survivor, Phyl.
hugs
Hops
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I know you are right Hops. The yelling is a huge cost to my physical and emotional well being. I will get the hotline number a try. I have not used it since we moved here over 6 years ago. Thanks.
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Good.
I'm glad you'll reach out for human-voice support IRL, (((((Phyl)))).
You're gathering courage.
hugs
Hops
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Good.
I'm glad you'll reach out for human-voice support IRL, (((((Phyl)))).
You're gathering courage.
hugs
Hops
Your post above was a good reminder and the nudge I needed to actually look up the local crisis hotline number and add it to my cell phone. I also reviewed the websites and local resources available. Thanks!
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Oustanding.
Glad you've connected with LOCAL resources too.
Other human beings exist, good ones, to help.
Bravo!
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Although the ongoing pandemic has kept me physically isolated, the Zoom meetings have kept me social and in close contact with other humans.
Our book club gets together about every 3 weeks and while 4 of us have moved away from where we all met now we can do it by Zoom. These gals are all aware of what has been happening with me.
I also have 2 regular Zoom AA meetings each week, many of the members I have known for years.
Another friend of mine and I joined a weekly Zoom AlAnon meeting too.
I just got off the phone with a friend I made up here - she was checking up on me. :)
I joined a FB group but mostly monitor the posts on there. This message board seems more secure. I truly enjoy the connections I have made with all of you.
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Hi Phyll..
I lost my husband a year ago which is what I am dealing with now. But I wanted to share with you that my husband had 35 years sober in AA.........His family were all alcoholics and his parents made there own booz........
I hope you are doing the best you can as I know it isn't easy.......
Best to you, Bettyanne
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Was not sure where to put this update. This looks like as good of a place as any. I have not been as active on here lately, although I have kept up on reading posts. I have joined AlAnon on-line with a sponsor, and started therapy (also on-line - virtual visits). Doing okay. Have to run, will write more soon.
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Bravo, Phyl!
Both your decisions--to participate in Alanon with a sponsor and with therapy.
Those're huge. You sounds to me like a woman who WANTS wholeness and the chance to be happy or find a serene life. You deserve all of that. It's hard work but so worth it.
Hope we'll hear an update when you can. Sending you support.
hugs
Hops
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Hey Phyll, how's it goin?
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The ups are outweighing the downs, so that's something! The AlAnon participation helps, doing more with my Women's AA meeting, and I really click with the therapist! I feel mutual respect and understanding from both the AlAnon sponsor and the therapist. The experiences have added more tools to my tool box.
The downs come mostly through W, however I get a sense he tries to do better from time to time, and I am learning how to not make his moods determine my outlook on life.
Also, one year from the initial attack by our neighbor this month, W has completely fenced in our 6.7 acres + a fenced in side yard. This has been a project of major proportions and W did it in a way that the fence should last beyond our years (with repairs as needed from fallen trees or wandering bears). It looks nice too. We are able to walk with our dogs on our trails off leash and let them out at night in the dark free from worry of intruders - both 2 and 4 legged kind. The deer of course have no trouble hopping over the 4 foot high fences, but that is okay so long as they clear it without banging into it.
We also have a new security system with wiring in buried conduit so the red squirrels cannot chew through the wires. It all may seem to others a bit silly and possibly paranoid. With the political climate these days - I can see things like fights between neighbors occurring on a more frequent and vicious scale. I think we may have experienced civil unrest sooner than some others. I dunno - it is hard to stay optimistic.
Thank you for asking and for your continued interest in me. I need to get caught up in seeing what is happening with you - been a week since I got on here!
am not convinced
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I'm glad to read your update, P. I hope you're staying in contact with your family. You seemed so happy to spend time with them. I hope that continues.
Your security measures sound solid, considering the neighbor's unstable behaviours, imo.
You did what you could, then turned back to joy
It's perfectly logical, ime..
Lighter
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Hi, P. Yup, have a place on Bimini.
Did you take a tour on Geoffrey's sail boat when you swam with the dolphins?
I answered your question in your thread so I could find it more easily.
Lighter