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