With my father being a spiteful SOB, and my mom emotionally unavailable, I guess this is vaguely what it feels like to be orphaned. It's true that I had them in my life up til now, but should someone like me have their parents suddenly die, maybe this is what it would be like.
It's been 6 months since my brother's discovery about my father's acitivities. And 6 months later, I still haven't been able to talk to my mom about my feelings. She's leaned on me a whole heck of a lot, but I can't reciprocate. And I keep trying to tell her to read this blog, as my way of speaking to her about my feelings, but she won't. She's too busy with chemistry, and then with biology. She keeps promising to read it, but it's been here for over a month now, and that hasn't happened.
Her counselor actually advised her not to read it. Fantastic for me, because I am just trapped in this useless outlet. This isn't some game for me- some hobby or fun. I created this so that I could reach out to the important people in my life the only way I know how. Frickin notes.
I guess I'll be 40 years old, writing notes to my husband expressing my feelings. I think the combination of technology and growing up under the oppression of the Plymouth Brethren, I've been ruined from self-expression through speech. I can text, write a facebook message, email, AIM message, or even hand someone a handwritten note with no problems. The minute I open my mouth, I'm frozen.
Yeah I'm working on this with my counselor. I can actually speak to her, though not without difficulty. My earlier psychiatrists I couldn't talk to. There was a lot of me twisting my hands, fidding my thumbs, and other nervous ticks in therapy sessions in high school. There was not a lot of me talking, though. Emotions just make me really uneasy and stressed out. It is exhausting to speak from the heart. Now, I can't get through a session without crying. But it's only when I open the floodgates am I able to speak about my emotions, so she doesn't seem to mind me using up all her tissues.
But because my mom is avoiding this site, it is sending me a pretty powerful message, one that is merely echoing what I was told in the Plymouth Brethren: I'm not that important. She can dump on me all she likes with her emotions and burdens, but she isn't letting me get a word in edgewise. It feels really one-sided, and I feel pretty emotionally abandoned by her.
I know she's trying to take care of herself through this time, and I know that she is currently motherless, but I really need my mom. And going through the past 6 months without her has been really hard. I've lost both of my parents in one shot. Sure, one of them was crappy. But I really miss the other.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Miksed Signls: Ur doin it rite!
Things keep coming out of my counseling sessions that I never even thought about. Or, haven't in so many years that I've forgotten, anyway. It's almost like post-traumatic stress disorder, or something- getting worked up over wrongs that have been long buried. And yet they affect me still today, so now we dig them up.
When I was quite young, I was nicknamed by my family 'water-works' because I cried a lot. It was a derogatory name, certainly not one borne of love. So, whenever I cried, I was not taken seriously. I can recall my mom saying to me once, "You're just looking for a reason to cry. You're in a bad mood and you just want to cry." I was trying to say something to her that was upsetting me, and this was her response.
The lovely Plymouth Brethren always managed to cast down the women in their assemblies. Man good, woman bad. Anything womanly is also bad. Like emotions. Tears show weakness, they show emotion, which is irrational. Only logic is good, and logic is free of tears and emotions. In order to be taken seriously when you have a problem, you cannot cry, and you cannot show emotions.
And so now, here I am, typing a blog which is meant to portray my inner soul and emotions. Instead of confiding to the people I love, I hide here, where a keyboard can be my bridge between logic and emotions. I can logically type, filling this blank page, where tears cannot be pictured.
Because I was 'water-works,' the emotional, illogical little girl, I grew up to be me- a logical, unemotional grownup. I can't confide in people I love. I can't reach out to them for help when I'm dealing with emotional issues. I want to be taken seriously. I want to be seen as a grown up who can take care of herself. So, now my mother unloads her burden of pain unto me, and I have no one to unload unto. I've been isolated on me-island. I was told that my emotions and tears weren't important, and now I still believe it.
It's interesting to see how something so small as a light tease, like calling a little girl 'water-works' can affect her deeply. I cried a lot, therefore my tears became irrelevant. They were a common sight, so they ceased to bring interest. I still felt the sadness, hurt, or whatever to bring the tears, but it was moot. No one listened.
And what's crazy is that later, when I was entering 'adulthood,' my mom went out of her mind trying to make me open up to her. I can recall her physically shaking me, "What's wrong with you? Why are you sad? Tell me! TELL ME!" And I wouldn't tell her. I couldn't confide in her. I didn't believe that she really wanted to know, because I was shown before that they didn't want to know. My problems were childish, girly, and unimportant.
Even now, the past 6 months we've known about my father's scandals, and I haven't been able to open up to her the pain I'm feeling. She's asked me a couple times, but I haven't said anything. I gave her the link to this blog, but she hasn't come. She's forgotten, wrapped up in the busyness and craziness in her own life, claiming that her pain is worse than mine. Is it worse? I don't know, maybe. It's different than mine, so how can it be better or worse?
Welcome to me-island. Population: 1
When I was quite young, I was nicknamed by my family 'water-works' because I cried a lot. It was a derogatory name, certainly not one borne of love. So, whenever I cried, I was not taken seriously. I can recall my mom saying to me once, "You're just looking for a reason to cry. You're in a bad mood and you just want to cry." I was trying to say something to her that was upsetting me, and this was her response.
The lovely Plymouth Brethren always managed to cast down the women in their assemblies. Man good, woman bad. Anything womanly is also bad. Like emotions. Tears show weakness, they show emotion, which is irrational. Only logic is good, and logic is free of tears and emotions. In order to be taken seriously when you have a problem, you cannot cry, and you cannot show emotions.
And so now, here I am, typing a blog which is meant to portray my inner soul and emotions. Instead of confiding to the people I love, I hide here, where a keyboard can be my bridge between logic and emotions. I can logically type, filling this blank page, where tears cannot be pictured.
Because I was 'water-works,' the emotional, illogical little girl, I grew up to be me- a logical, unemotional grownup. I can't confide in people I love. I can't reach out to them for help when I'm dealing with emotional issues. I want to be taken seriously. I want to be seen as a grown up who can take care of herself. So, now my mother unloads her burden of pain unto me, and I have no one to unload unto. I've been isolated on me-island. I was told that my emotions and tears weren't important, and now I still believe it.
It's interesting to see how something so small as a light tease, like calling a little girl 'water-works' can affect her deeply. I cried a lot, therefore my tears became irrelevant. They were a common sight, so they ceased to bring interest. I still felt the sadness, hurt, or whatever to bring the tears, but it was moot. No one listened.
And what's crazy is that later, when I was entering 'adulthood,' my mom went out of her mind trying to make me open up to her. I can recall her physically shaking me, "What's wrong with you? Why are you sad? Tell me! TELL ME!" And I wouldn't tell her. I couldn't confide in her. I didn't believe that she really wanted to know, because I was shown before that they didn't want to know. My problems were childish, girly, and unimportant.
Even now, the past 6 months we've known about my father's scandals, and I haven't been able to open up to her the pain I'm feeling. She's asked me a couple times, but I haven't said anything. I gave her the link to this blog, but she hasn't come. She's forgotten, wrapped up in the busyness and craziness in her own life, claiming that her pain is worse than mine. Is it worse? I don't know, maybe. It's different than mine, so how can it be better or worse?
Welcome to me-island. Population: 1
Sunday, May 2, 2010
An email I hacked.
Okay, this was definitely wrong of me. But I couldn't help it. I hacked into my dad's email account and pulled this out. Definitely wrong. I'll say it again: I shouldn't have. But, I did. It's done. I guess I just feel like he lost his right to privacy when he violated our trust.
An email to a married woman in the Plymouth Brethren, from my dad. She asked for Christian advice when raising children, how to instill in them the love for Christ. I believe it was a mass email to many people. Here is my dad's response.
"I am sorry I do not know you personally. You have gotten some good response from others here. Also do not ever forget children learn far, far more by watching us than in any other way. And they are watching us and learning from us in great detail every day. Our habits, words, actions, attitudes, emotions, etc,etc,etc.... They are all on display for them every day. Therefore....
For me to live (is) Christ!!!"
WHAT THE HECK??? Our habits/actions: sexual addiction. Our words/attitudes: Me, me, me, me, me. Our emotions: What emotions?
Again, WHAT THE HECK??? Who is he to say these things? Should I be a narcissistic sex addict, if this was my example?
Again, it was wrong of me to snoop. And I only got stress and fury out of it. But, now I have to decide: should I intervene in this? Should I email this lady and allow her the knowledge of what an abysmal father this man was?
I know what he's doing. He's trying to make ties to as many Plymouth Brethren as he can before the Iowa conference. He wants to go, make an entrance, be surrounded by adoring church members, and find a Plymouth Brethren wife. A replacement for my mom. One woman is as good as another. Heck, maybe she'll be prettier AND wait on him hand and foot. Wouldn't that just be swell?
Maybe it's none of my business anymore. He is a grown man and he's allowed to live any way that he wants to. He can always lie more to these people, and say that my mother poisoned me against him, and that I'm a terrible person, blah blah.
Even though I disagree with the majority of the Plymouth Brethren's doctrine, and all the Plymouth Brethren I've ever known were petty, mean people, there have to be some that are nice. There have to be some that are as innocent and naive as my mother was when she was captured by my dad (in marriage). If I send a warning, maybe I could prevent some other poor, sweet lady like my mom from being roped in. That's assuming my email is ever read by the lady. She could see my email address and decide it's SPAM. She could read the email and decide it's a joke. She could email my father and eat up his lies.
I will probably wait, talk to my psychiatrist about it, and maybe send it later. It's not like I'm in a rush. I don't think the Iowa conference is for a while yet.
He is such a terrible liar. He wants to be seen as this Christian, godly family man. But it's all fallen apart. He's unzippered his coat and revealed his clothing beneath it. He can't just zip it back up and we'll forget that he's wearing a neon-glowing tube top. His character was so shocking and utterly the opposite of everything he's portrayed. But the cat's out of the bag. Maybe he will go back to these people and show off his self-image some more. Should I let him? I'm not his mommy. I'm not the honesty police.
I'm just a hurt, infuriated daughter.
An email to a married woman in the Plymouth Brethren, from my dad. She asked for Christian advice when raising children, how to instill in them the love for Christ. I believe it was a mass email to many people. Here is my dad's response.
"I am sorry I do not know you personally. You have gotten some good response from others here. Also do not ever forget children learn far, far more by watching us than in any other way. And they are watching us and learning from us in great detail every day. Our habits, words, actions, attitudes, emotions, etc,etc,etc.... They are all on display for them every day. Therefore....
For me to live (is) Christ!!!"
WHAT THE HECK??? Our habits/actions: sexual addiction. Our words/attitudes: Me, me, me, me, me. Our emotions: What emotions?
Again, WHAT THE HECK??? Who is he to say these things? Should I be a narcissistic sex addict, if this was my example?
Again, it was wrong of me to snoop. And I only got stress and fury out of it. But, now I have to decide: should I intervene in this? Should I email this lady and allow her the knowledge of what an abysmal father this man was?
I know what he's doing. He's trying to make ties to as many Plymouth Brethren as he can before the Iowa conference. He wants to go, make an entrance, be surrounded by adoring church members, and find a Plymouth Brethren wife. A replacement for my mom. One woman is as good as another. Heck, maybe she'll be prettier AND wait on him hand and foot. Wouldn't that just be swell?
Maybe it's none of my business anymore. He is a grown man and he's allowed to live any way that he wants to. He can always lie more to these people, and say that my mother poisoned me against him, and that I'm a terrible person, blah blah.
Even though I disagree with the majority of the Plymouth Brethren's doctrine, and all the Plymouth Brethren I've ever known were petty, mean people, there have to be some that are nice. There have to be some that are as innocent and naive as my mother was when she was captured by my dad (in marriage). If I send a warning, maybe I could prevent some other poor, sweet lady like my mom from being roped in. That's assuming my email is ever read by the lady. She could see my email address and decide it's SPAM. She could read the email and decide it's a joke. She could email my father and eat up his lies.
I will probably wait, talk to my psychiatrist about it, and maybe send it later. It's not like I'm in a rush. I don't think the Iowa conference is for a while yet.
He is such a terrible liar. He wants to be seen as this Christian, godly family man. But it's all fallen apart. He's unzippered his coat and revealed his clothing beneath it. He can't just zip it back up and we'll forget that he's wearing a neon-glowing tube top. His character was so shocking and utterly the opposite of everything he's portrayed. But the cat's out of the bag. Maybe he will go back to these people and show off his self-image some more. Should I let him? I'm not his mommy. I'm not the honesty police.
I'm just a hurt, infuriated daughter.
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