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My mom.

June 3, 2007

My life has taken a significant financial downturn this past week. I lost a housemate and gained a bunch of car trouble. And the thing is...I was a month away from finally being able to sock away money in the event of this kind of mishap, but I am still one month from paying off the last financial mishap.

So, I have been trying to stay up. And I have had a lot of help. Wonderful friends, my lovely children...fuck, even the auto mechanic and the tow company have been cordial and kind throughout all of this. But still...it starts to creep up on me. How am I going to do this? I know I will get through it. I know I always do...but HOW?

How?

So, I called my mommy.

Those who know my family history understand I have a complicated relationship with my mother. Lots of stuff tied up in that, including periods in my life where I just could not speak to her at all. Somehow, though, being divorced and struggling with trying to keep my family afloat has brought us closer together. There are times when the past flashes brightly and makes me want to hide from her, but there are times like these when I need her strength and wisdom to get me through.

I am sure I have told this story before, in many forms, but my mother raised seven children on her own. She had three kids with her first husband, who left her and disowned them all, never paying a dime in child support, in spite of the fact that my mom was a housewife who now had to find employment, having never been in the workforce. Then she met my dad, a crazy Italian widower dude with three kids of his own. They had me, and he split when I was three...maintaining minimal contact with his kids, but not really helping much in a financial way.

Somehow mom made it. It was not the best childhood I could have hoped for, but I remember being happy much of the time. I certainly didn't worry about money, although I knew we had less of it than most in the wealthy suburb we resided in. My mom hung on to the huge house, and all of the children were fed and relatively well-equipped. Almost all of my siblings have done fairly well in life. Better than me, for sure...and I don't think I have done all that bad.

So, there are ways in which I look up to my mom. Ways that aren't really measurable. It can be both reassuring and intimidating that she made do so well. She credits her father, who supported her without judgment, in spite of the fact that she felt like she had made a lot of bad choices.

Today, when it all got to be to much for a minute there, I broke down and called her. I told her it might be the transmission and it might be more than I can handle by myself. A friend had made a very generous offer, but I just...I needed some support. Support I haven't asked for in a long time, but support that still felt like I was asking too much.

She had a pen in her hand and was ready to write a check as I spoke. I told her no. I want to hear how much it will be. I want to know the damage and see if I can fight my way through before she bails my ass out. She soothed me. Said she knew exactly what I was going through. Said she has been in the same place, too. That she knows it is difficult, but that I will make it through. I wept a little, regretting all of the financial decisions I have made that have been wasteful. That trip to Dallas...all those summer camps. I can't take them back now, but they would add up to a new transmission, at least. My mom reminded me of all of the vacations we took, and how she probably should not have spent that money, either...but they created so many of the memories that made my childhood as happy as it was. I think she made the right choice...I am hoping I am making the right choice, too.

In the end, she reminded me of the magnet we had on our refrigerator while I was growing up. "This, too, shall pass." it said. She told me there were days and nights that she would sit and stare at that magnet, willing it to be so.

This, too, shall pass. With the help of friends...co-workers...and, yes, family...Family I frequently underestimate and underappreciate...may it pass quickly and as painlessly as possible.

Thanks, mom.

Posted at 11:16 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

An apt quote for my mood...

October 13, 2006

From The Proposition:

Samuel Stote: What's a misanthrope? Two Bob: A misanthrope is a bugger who hates every other bugger. Samuel Stote: Are we misanthropes? Arthur Burns: Lord no! We're family.

Posted at 1:02 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

The origins of things

March 30, 2006

I suddenly find myself nursing the most healthy addiction of all.

Hello, my name is Lainie, and I am addicted to interaction.

Last night, yet again, I walked into my living room, set to give the dog her long-overdue walk. And there was Rachel. Rachel, the wonderful distraction. Rachel, with whom I have spent the past month engaged in some of the most wonderful, revealing, heart-wrending, open, honest discussions. I feel replenished. And I'm sad that she is leaving in a few short days.

So, we talked. Fuck the walk. The dog lay on the couch and sighed and sighed. I felt bad, but, like I said, I'm addicted to interaction.

Also, I have initiated a couple of nice little email exchanges that are very gratifying to me. Email is another vice of mine - only sometimes I feel like I am foisting my emails on people because, well, I *do* go on and on, if encouraged...and sometimes even if not encouraged. I seem to have made at least one friend who loves to send and receive emails, and I am enjoying it a great deal. Silly, sweet, stupid, charming little exchanges several times a day. Yes. Oh yes. It's like a writer's wet dream! Here, you can have this! I wasn't using it anyway! And you are giving me something in return? How nice!

So, anyway, the origins of things. Last night, the conversation with Rachel twisted and turned and convoluted itself right back to the origins of this...thing...I have where I am constantly drawing a certain personality type into my life. Yes. I am familiar - Quite familiar - with my relationship patterns and where they originate. I am also pleased to note that I am recognizing myself in those patterns as I fall into the groove. Soon enough to stay detached from the outcome, and yet, somehow I've managed to not become jaded by my own idiocy.

It's nice. I feel whole. And I feel like I have something genuine to offer to a conversation, rather than glib speculation or advice I read in a book. I also feel fully present, and fully accepting of what is being offered to me in the moment. Knowing how my interactions with my family have effected me in the present, I also feel like I can participate in at least recognizing and acknowledging how those same patterns play out with my children.

Yesterday, I heard Monk talking to Coley in a harsh tone. I walked out, and they were both in tears. Coley had stepped on Monk's hand, and Monk was lecturing Coley about how he NEVER is careful. There was anger and hurt in their tone with each other. Practicing my newfound art of emotion coach, I told Monk that I was sorry that he was hurt, but that I wanted to see him talking to Coley about his feelings in the present, rather than using the words never or always with regard to Coley's behavior (of course, Monk...with a sly smile...tried to say "not ever" instead, but he quickly got that it was the same thing.) And then I asked him "I know you were hurt by Coley, but does it make you feel better to make Coley feel hurt, also?" I was pleased that his answer was no. But he had already carried his lecture to the point where Coley was feeling a bit enraged, so there was a moment where Coley had to compose himself. "Mom," said Monk..".I KNOW that look on his face! He's GOING to hit me!" Monk locked himself in the bathroom while Coley released some anger by yelling, not hitting. And I held Coley for awhile and it only took a moment - long enough for me to say "I know you will feel bad about yourself it you hit someone." and the rage turned to regret and sadness, and Coley was ready to make amends with Monk.

I don't know if I'm conveying it clearly here, because I'm running late for my thingy today, but it was actually a really monumental moment. The boys were both very clear about their feelings, and they both responded so well to being reasoned with, empathized with, and yet still held to a standard of expression that is acceptable. I was so proud of them, and of me.

So, all of this examining. All of this talking, and hashing out. All of my fucking up and trying again and fucking up again and trying again again...it's all got a point. The origins might be disordered and painful, but where it's leading is ordered, free, and totally healthy.

"While looking for the light, you may suddenly be devoured by darkness and find the True Light." - Jack Kerouac

Posted at 6:00 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Healing.

February 27, 2006

I should say that I spent most of Saturday morning in bed crying my eyes out quietly. I say this as my roommates move out. It's releasing a flood of emotion. Not due to anything having really anything to do with them, but having to do with all that I've been holding in as a result of having people sharing this house with me. In a way, it's good - because I do love the Allison family enough to feel OK with having been somewhat of a scared bunny rabbit while they were here. I feel like we can easily enough mend whatever that resulted in. I already am feeling more open to all of them now that they are going. The trick is to maintain that openness and to not fall back again when someone else moves in.

So, anyway, crying my eyes out. What I was doing was remembering a lot of pain. I was fully realizing how much denial I was in during the 3 years I lived here with a silently abusive partner. I was remembering what it caused in my spirit. I remember resigning myself to that. I remember feeling like it didn't really effect me - like I was bullet-proof - as long as I acknowledged that it was reality. Like "as long as I'm aware that this is a fucked up situation, I won't get fucked up by it." Which is sort of like standing on a railroad track, saying "As long as I'm aware that train is coming down the track at me, I won't get fucking smeared by it!" It sounds silly now, but I did it.

I can't explain to anyone what it was like to live in this house for those three years. What I can say is that I understand and accept now what it did to my heart. Around the middle of that time, I decided that love didn't exist. that I could just stay in that situation because all love is painful, so why should I leave behind the familiar pain of the love I had learned to cope with for the minute possibility that I might find love that was slightly less painful?

And, the truth of the matter is that all love IS painful. But not always. It requires a lot, but it gives back whatever you put in. Perhaps not in the same currency, but at least the same value. I'm just now finding my way back to a place where I can extend my love without fear, and it's scary as shit. I'm not just talking about romantic love, I am talking about any kind of relationship that requires/inspires any amount of depth or intimacy. I don't have a roadmap to guide me on my particular journey. I just have to make it up as I go along, and be honest, and insist on integrity and freedom.

I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I'm putting myself forward. That's the only way out of this place.

Posted at 11:51 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when

December 9, 2005

I became suddenly inundated with long awaited reimbursements yesterday so, feeling rich, I took my housemate out to see the Johnny Cash Movie at the Alamo Drafthouse.

There have been a lot of conversations around here lately about the men I meet and my propensity to become enamored of depressed, morose, or otherwise dysfuntional men. Our propensity, I should say, as women. What Pansy and I can't figure out is if men are just destined to be that way...or what?

The movie only fed our discontent. Like many folks, I worship at the altar of Johnny Cash. I think he was a great musician and probably a great man, but watching an entire movie about a woman who saves a man and they went on to live happily ever after...when (according to Pansy, because I don't normally keep track of such things) the rocky road was just beginning, was incredibly frustrating. The entire movie, while wonderful, touching, beautiful, and gorgeous, can be summed up with one line:

Things don't just work themselves out...other people work things out, and you just think they work themselves out.

And, truly, this is the crux of the problem between men and women in my experience. Pansy had said earlier in the day that "Men do what they want to, and women do what they have to." - which is totally in the same spirit. Why are women so freaking wise and men so fucking adorably bumbling? And why is it that I can see that so clearly and yet still be attracted to bumbling doofus men?

Because, watching the movie...I was in love with Johnny Cash, too. I wanted to save him. I wanted to see him get well, and reach his potential. And I'm glad that it appears Johnny understood how very much June meant to him, and perhaps he even knew how much his very life, not to mention his fame and good name was due in large part to the women in his life who tolerated, supported, inspired, and lifted him...but do WE understand that? Not just about Johnny, and not just about men, even, but about society in general? How many women quietly do what needs to get done, while the men in their lives do what they want to? How many women stand by, leaving their desires unfulfilled while the men in their lives accomplish great things, or mediocrity...or nothing at all? How many women are out there making things work out, and making it look so easy that the men of the world can stand by thinking things "just work themselves out"? I know several, just off the top of my head.*

* Including fathers who decide not to exercise their right of visitation due to the weather, and then have the fucking audacity to turn around and try to make the mother feel like she's somehow turning the children against him...but that's another post entirely.

Posted at 9:35 AM • Comments (4) • TrackBack

The origins of things.

October 4, 2005

I relearned a valuable lesson today. There was a tearful moment at the breakfast table which resulted in several conversations and culminated in storytelling and discussion & during this entire process I was reminded of something that I stupidly forget over and over and over again & that is that it doesn't matter "who started it."

Because, really, the origins of things tend to run fairly deep, and when you unwind the twisted tangle of blame you ultimately end up where you started...which is usually inside of yourself.

Go figure.

Posted at 12:59 PM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

More Family Stuff

October 1, 2005

So, I guess my dad survived his quadruple bypass surgery. I called my mom last night to tell her about it & got the requisite guilt trip about not calling him. I responded by telling her that I'm just not strong enough to go there right now. I mean, the last time I spoke with my father, he was threatening to kill himself (to get attention) because he was so depressed*. I, myself, was recovering from a nearly decade-long depression brought on by the suicide of a close friend, and everyone seemed to want to hurl their own suicidal thoughts in my direction. This kind of thing is only marginally acceptable when it comes from friends, but when your fucking FATHER does it...it's just too fucking much.

So I stopped talking to him. I took a stand. And I was rewarded for my stand by being called a selfish bitch by my father, who also said he hoped my children didn't grow up to be as selfish as me...and he sent me some coupons for film developing so he could get pictures of his grandchild (there was only one at the time...I'm not even sure if he knows there's another.)

In all this time, 7 years or so, he has not made any effort to regain contact with me. I've been building strength in hopes that one day I will feel like I can include him in my life without it totally fucking me up - but according to my sister he is no better now than he was then. And considering my emotional fragility, having just recently finalized a divorce with a man who used very familiar tactics in his attempts to control and belittle me, I just. can't. go. there. And I won't. I don't give a fuck what anyone else in my family thinks.

In spite of the fact that on some level I KNOW it will hurt to lose my dad, I need to be healthy and whole for my children. Comparing it with my relationship to L, there was a certain point where, in spite of my wholehearted desire to see things through and create healing in our relationship, I had to recognize that I have no control for someone else's healing, and I had to protect myself and my children from that process. If I didn't have kids or wasn't struggling with so much other bullshit, perhaps I could attempt to build a relationship with my dad...but I can't. It's too delicate. I have to respect that.

My mom seems to understand if not agree. She "learned a long time ago that it's senseless to argue with me." Whatever the fuck that means. Yeah...it's pretty much senseless to argue with ANYONE when you are arguing about issues of internal balance. But the more I discuss these things with my mom, the more empathy I have for her, realizing that she endured a buttload of abuse from my dad. I mean, she talked shit about the man the entire time I was growing up & I assumed that I had heard all of it & maybe there were times when I resented her for it. But as I get older, I realize that what she SAID was the tip of the iceberg of what was DONE...and I'm actually somewhat frightened to find out how deep the abuse went.

When it comes down to it... I have to respect my strong instinct to avoid my father, considering how very much I would like to participate in and cultivate a strong family unit. I need to work on/with what I have, which is two lovely boys and me...and move forward from here with courage, honesty, and strength.

*Depressed because, get this, the wife he "gave" all of his assets to to avoid paying his way way way past due child support ran off on him. I remember being physically sickened by him telling me, finally, that he was a wealthy, wealthy man when all through my childhood he denied this to avoid having to pay for anything having anything to do with me.

Posted at 10:04 AM • Comments (5) • TrackBack

It's stunning.

September 29, 2005

It's absolutely stunning to come to the sudden understanding as to WHY I've always felt like an outsider in every context of my life. This reality has been revealed to me at various points in my life...most recently in an email that was FORWARDED to me from my sister. An email from my aunt, who I always suspected never considered me a part of the family, but never really knew why. The email was imploring my brother and sisters, who have chosen to not speak with my father anymore (just like me) to please find a way to make peace with him as he is undergoing a quadruple bypass surgery this week. Today.

I wasn't included in the email. I'm not a member of that family. It's clear to me. I hurts me...so much.

Because, you see, because I have 7 brothers and sisters, and because I am a half-sibling to all of them, there is a whole other family that I'm not a part of, either. Because I am "the other." To the A's, I am a D...and to the D's...I am nothing.

So, yeah. I had to turn off AIM today. Not because I didn't want to talk to my sister, who has been kind to me and a true sister (one of the few members of the family who has been)...but because I didn't exactly feel like being reminded why I've felt this way my whole life. I would like to be able to invalidate those feelings as easily as the rest of my family seems to be able to.

Posted at 11:09 AM • Comments (6) • TrackBack

Divorce Dream

May 16, 2005

I dreamed I heard footsteps in the hallway, and the room to Monk's door opening, and when I got up to investigate, my ex was struggling to get Monk out of the house, against Monk's vehement protests.

When I confronted him, my ex told me that he just wanted to talk to his son (it was late at night/early in the morning) and I told him that it was inappropriate for him to be here.

Suddenly, in the dream, it was daylight. I pulled my ex into the house and said "Look, it would be ideal if we could get along well enough for either of us to just come over and talk to the children whenever we wanted to. For that to happen, though, we have to define and respect each others' boundaries, and you are not doing that by entering my home without my permission and seemingly abducting your child."

My ex began to cry, and he disappeared, and I was suddenly confronted by a bunch of his friends (most of them women) who tried to tell me that what I was doing was wrong and mean and whatnot. I calmly explained to them what I had been through with my ex, and they began to understand that there was much that they didn't understand. Although they still had empathy for me ex, they were understanding my point of view, as well.

Wishful thinking? Maybe it was all that reading I did this weekend about joint physical custody.

Posted at 8:44 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Getting This Out

February 9, 2005

I had a very jarring conversation with my mother last night. After a whole day (and, really, an entire year) of her providing me with supportive advice and encouragement, not to mention the reassurance that I can, indeed, always come home, she veered back to a topic that I have made off limits due to the pain factor.

Let me backtrack. A few years ago, when I was pregnant with Cole, I started seeing a therapist. Things were bad with L, and I had family issues that were coming up. And I needed support. I was also very isolated, and didn't really have anyone to discuss these issues with. I was working long hours at work and doing a lot of traveling, and was quite disconnected from any community save the hipmamas - but even there, I really didn't have a lot of time to post or respond.

At any rate, it was at that point in my life that I finally said something out loud that I had never before said out loud. When I was 4 or 5 years old, my sister behaved inappropriately in my presence, in the bathtub, repeatedly for I don't know how long. She didn't do anything TO me (as my mom and my brother have been anxious to point out) but she, a pubescent at the time, masturbated in front of me while I was in the bathtub with her.

Now, this in itself seems like an easy thing to recover from. I come from a large family, and inappropriate things happened all over the place. My mom was a single parent trying to raise 7 children without any financial support from her two ex-husbands (one of whom left her with three of his children) and we were left in each others' care more than I am sure she would have wanted us to be. At the time that this came up, I was very angry with my mother for allowing this to happen, but with perspective, I'm not even really angry with her anymore.

What I am angry about and...wary of, is the fact that three members of my family, including that very same sister - who I am no longer speaking to due to her behavior towards me in the recent past - are so invested in telling me that this is "Normal" behavior and my reaction to it is wrong/odd/abnormal/hurtful, and tearing the family apart.

It was that denial that caused me to stop speaking to my mom for some time. I was going through the initial stages of separation with L, and I just could not deal with the conflict. I remember I drove out to Chicago to see her over the holidays one year, and I had asked that she honor my desire to see her and NOT my sister...and she violated that agreement, in addition to pestering me the entire time about how I should make amends with her...in addition to going as far as saying I was only doing this for "attention." I left two days early, did not call her, did not return her calls, and did not speak with her for a year. Actually, I did call her when I returned home to let her know that I was safe and that I was sorry, but I just was not able to deal with her issues at the time and needed to give myself some space from my family to work through those issues. That it wasn't a permanent thing, but that it was necessary for me, and I would appreciate it if she would honor it.

Soon after that, my favorite brother sent me a letter calling me all sorts of names, and when I called him to try to make amends, I was berated for my efforts, and told that I was blowing things out of proportion and acting petulant. Which is funny, because that's the kind of behavior that is consistently displayed by the older sister who was guilty of this act in the first place. So, in the midst of my divorce, I lost my mom and my older brother, and my sense of family. I guess that's one of the reasons the initial stages of divorce took so long. I was unwilling to unravel the only family I had left. I think that was about the time 9/11 happened, and I started to feel like there was no sense in making any moves to separate from L because in spite of the fact that he basically never spoke to me except to be judgmental and mean, he was all the family I had left.

I also convinced myself that it didn't matter WHO I was married to, it would end up this way anyway. So I sort of resigned myself and trudged in a direction that I THOUGHT was forward, but was actually something entirely different.

Through more therapy, I realized that I didn't HAVE to resolve this childhood issue with my family by talking to them. I realized that *I* could accept what happened, create a situation in which I felt safe, and move forward. I was able to begin talking to my mother again - making a pact with myself to just not bring it up. To not expect her to do anything but deny and invalidate if I did bring it up. I have had to perry a million references to my sister. I don't want to be hurtful, I don't want to be divisive, but those events hurt me, traumatized me, and changed me...and it's not something I felt safe rectifying with my sister (my mother and brother insisted that it was MY responsibility to confront HER and resolve the issue) and I just wanted to rebuild my family ties the best way I could.

At any rate, I have managed to avoid talking about it with my mother, in spite of the fact that she brings up my sister in just about every conversation that we have, for the past 2 or more years. Until last night. Right when I was at a point where I was ready to surrender to the pull of family, there she was...reminding me that my feelings were invalid, and that I was going to need to be the one to tough it out and get over it. Reenforcing that my feelings about the issues of the past, as well as my issues with my sister in the present are invalid.

I'm not asking for much. I told her, look...I'm not trying to divide the family. I'm not asking for anyone to disown, dislike, or dispense with my sister. However, if one of my children were to come to me with the same issue, I would hope I would validate their feelings, and if I didn't feel like I could resolve the issue, to step back and allow resolution to occur naturally. My mom keeps trying to put herself in the role of mediator, and I am not interested in negotiating with someone who skims my emotional experience off the top and asks me to move forward.

This behavior is bizarre to me. Who are they protecting? I'm not asking to be protected from my sister. I'm only asking to have them admit what is certainly true. How can I possibly forgive my sister for her actions if she won't even acknowledge and/or ask for forgiveness? And, really, if my family finds that behavior appropriate, do I really want my children to be there with them?

I can say that if Cole came to me with the same level of distress about an equivalent experience, I wouldn't be worried for his future well-being, but I WOULD very much be willing to support him and mediate a discussion on equal grounds, or allow him to work things out with his brother on his own - depending upon what was safest for HIM. I'm not sure why, after this...I mean, I am innocent of any inappropriate behavior in this case...why is SHE the one being protected.

What's odd is that my family ought to know better. This couldn't be a more textbook case of a family in denial, and it's amazing to me how everyone is SO invested in clinging to their version of reality rather than even attempting to view mine.

At any rate, more distressing news for me. More decisions to make and rearrange.

BTW - Is there anyone in the Chicago area reading this who homeschools and who might want to form a community with me if I do move back? This whole family background thing won't be so much of an issue once I have reliable childcare exchanges going on.

Posted at 9:54 AM • Comments (11) • TrackBack

Mother, Part 2.

May 10, 2004

So, I ended my mellow mother's day with a call to my mother. Which, in hindsight, was probably a mistake. Which is to say, I probably should have called her sooner, for any number of reasons.

I understand that it's totally cliche to say my mother doesn't get me. And I long to, like Lorraine, come to grips with the fact that my mother deserves my appreciation and forgiveness - or not even forgiveness so much as understanding...but I always return to this longing to be understood by my source. Appreciated for who I am by the people who held such influence over me in my earliest years.

And it's not that my mom is cruel, she's just clueless. And she's not clueless in general. No woman who can raise 7 children on her own could ever be clueless in the general sense. But she really is without clue about who I am and what motivates me. All of my family members are, really. Which is probably why, at this point in my life - which is without doubt the most difficult - none of them have bothered to reach out to me.

Oh, this wasn't intended to be a pity party, though. What I wanted to write about was something that was illustrative of my difficulties with my mother, and the feeling of being an outsider. We were talking about family, which is something we have been doing, tentatively, these days. And I was telling her that I was beginning to wonder if maybe not knowing L's family was a good thing. That the thought of inviting 20 or more unchosen people into my life, frankly, scares the shit out of me...and perhaps, for this reason, it's best for me to just not get seriously involved in any relationships.

Of course, I was exaggerrating a bit - but it's the flip side of what I was talking about the other day, about not feeling worthy of family, and about feeling envious of people who have family that they see often and can rely on as a support system. The fact is that, although I do envy this, I also see the burdensome responsibility of it, and I sometimes feel that the burden isn't worth the benefit. I've always been a proponent of DIY - even/especially when it meant constructing family relationships with people who do not share my DNA. Choosing family.

My mom heard this and boiled it all down to one salty grain. "Well, perhaps if you were more open-minded..." she began. I fumed, but remained calm. I attempted to explain to her that it wasn't a case of being open-minded, that I could have a conversation with just about anyone...but judgment had already been served, and her majesty was tired and needed to go to bed, so I was interrupted, good-nights were said, and I was passed on to my brother.

Talking to my brother was not much better. He seemed pissy because I hadn't responded to his e-mails - all of which, these days, have been forwarded chain letters and the like. I know I have responded to any personal e-mails he's sent, but, no, I don't reply to that other crap. Likewise Monk, who receives e-mail from him, as well. And it's not that I want my family to pity me or even to attempt to relate to me...but it's, um, that I want them to not totally fucking abandon me when I have a problem. I want to know that they are there, even if there's nothing they can do about it.

I remember when I took that road trip to Portland. My brother J made a huge deal about how his house was my house, and I believed him. Of course, he was talking about this conditionally. Ever since I had the nerve to question the health of the family, we have been incommunicado.

Is it really any wonder why I don't want to make an investment in family? Why I never have? Because I watched my mom withdraw from 3 of my brothers and sisters in their formative years...because I watched my brothers and sisters withdraw from each other. I watched all of this, the baby in the family, and felt certain that no matter what I invested I would end up being alienated. So I didn't bother to invest. I built that other family, not of blood, but of kinship. But I don't think I invested in that family as much as I should have, either. I don't think I had enough faith even in chosen family members.

And every year, I make the same vow to myself. I'm going to remember all of the birthdays. I'm going to really work at reaching out to everyone. I'm going to increase my circle of family. And every year, there's always an excuse for not doing that. And I feel guilty about that, but I am not altogether sure it's solely my fault.

I wonder what my mom feels about all of this. Does she realize that the family is coming unglued? Does she feel a pang of regret over all of that instability all those years. Did she think that I could witness the ex-communication of three family members and all the nastiness that entails and not have a cynical view of family?

It seems her only method of solving the problem is to encourage me to "make amends" with my sister. My sister who "has changed." My sister who has been through so much of what I'm going through. My sister with whom I have attempted to make amends on several occasions, even though it's not my place to make the amends. And I wonder who will ever fucking make amends with me. Who will apologize for the bullshit. Who will ever say "Look, we know we put you in the exact middle of a self-inflicted family fued when you were far too young to play middle-person, and we're sorry. You shouldn't have had to choose between people in your family when you were 10 years old. And you shouldn't have had to hear one side demonize the other everytime the other was out of earshot."

That's what I would like to hear. Instead...I think I'll just once again step away from the family for a bit. It's getting a little hot in here, and I have other things to concentrate my energies on.

Posted at 8:40 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Hanging Laundry.

May 3, 2004

So, wow...I was just knocked on my ass by one of those deep psychological revelations while hanging laundry. It was so intense that I nearly vomited.

I was considering an e-mail from J, where he invited me to a family get-together...or a get-together where his family might be. And the previous e-mail from him had been about how much he loves my kids. And there have been issues (coming from me) about the fact that I haven't met J's family or friends yet. And I started to feel panic at the thought of meeting family members. And I started to fight that panic by blaming J for waiting so long, but I decided to go a little deeper than that, because here he was attempting to bring me in and I was still desperately searching for excuses to avoid being brought in.

And I thought about my envy of the support K8 receives from her family, and I thought about my own family...not necessarily my immediate family, but my extended family...and my estrangement from them. And I thought about my Italian heritage, and how important family is. My grandparents on my father's side are from Italy. And I'm watching Soprano's (yeah, yeah, I know it's fictional, but it does really paint a picture about Italian families that seems consistant) and I'm reading a book about a woman who grew up in a big Italian family, and I'm thinking about how I was excluded from the family and my brother and sisters were not.

And it's like my brain is trying to figure out a puzzle with all of this. I'm thinking, too, about my kids, and how they don't have ANY extended family on either side, and how cast out to sea that makes me feel. And I'm thinking about the slow creep of estrangement in my immediate family - I don't talk to my sister, my brother doesn't talk to me.

And then the divorce. I think about the divorce. I think about how desperately I clung to the idea of me and Steven together because it was the only family I had. And I hear me telling myself "It's so obvious. You don't deserve that." And, you know, of course I tell myself to shut the fuck up, but it's too late because I'm already doubled over and dry heaving on the ground.

So, whoah...I guess I'm having some issues with family. I'm not sure what to do with that, other than to stop blaming J for this issue (thankfully, I know enough about myself to not ACTUALLY blame him for things like this in a confrontational way.) Although...I do think it's probably best for me to not attempt to throw myself into those kinds of relationships without first really working through some of this stuff.

Maybe a call to my therapist is in order, or maybe I could just do some blogtherapy here. Maybe I can work through this stuff on my own.

But...wow. That laundry line has some sort of magical power. It's like the divining rod of spiritual growth.

Posted at 10:24 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Welcome Rocco Americo DiNino

January 12, 2004

My new nephew
Born January 9, 2004

Posted at 10:41 PM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Giving and Receiving, Part 2

November 14, 2003

Yesterday, I received in the mail a card from my sister - the sister I have chosen to not speak to for the past few years. I was afraid to open it, because the last three efforts she has made at communicating with me have been all about calling me a selfish bitch and cussing me out.

Curiosity got the better of me.

The card contained a short note and a gift certificate from Whole Foods for a significant amount of money. Too much for me to really refuse.

However, here's the deal. I feel like money has been used in our relationship before to perpetuate this weird power/control dynamic. The last time we made amends, she flew me to Chicago after Cole was born so I could spend my first 3 months post-partum in relative peace at my mother's house as opposed to here in Austin with L, who had broken up with me, but refused to leave the house.

It was a very nice gesture, but the end result was the same. We ended up in the same old power struggle where she refused to acknowledge my boundaries and continually interacted with me in ways that were unhealthy and manipulative. Which is pretty much the way I observe her interacting with just about everyone - but it seems like other people have different boundaries than me and are able to accept it or ignore it more easily than I am.

Anyway, the whole thing ended with me actually becoming estranged from my mother, who, in her efforts to force me and my sister to get along, ended up and invalidating my feelings about events in the past that I feel inform my present relatationship with my sister. Basically, my mother told me that I was acting out towards my sister because I wanted attention - when just about everyone in the family knows that my sister does not communicate in healthy ways. I guess I was tired of bearing the brunt of the blame for my sister's inability to interact with me in an acceptable way, so I stopped talking to my mom.

I was stressed. It was too much to deal with my problems with L (which have been evident in my life, on and off and in varying degrees, for the past 6 years or so) in addition to my difficulty relating to K (my sister) and then being judged by my mother on top of everything else. It was too much for me, so I withdrew from everyone. This is what drew the nasty phone calls and letters from my sister, and it actually caused a rift between me and my brother J - who actually said "If I have to choose between you and mom, I will choose mom." I never asked him to make that choice. I wasn't even the one who informed him of the problems. But he made that choice anyway, and I haven't really spoken to him in about a year (although I plan to).

When I withdrew, I made it clear to my mom that I didn't intend to NEVER speak to her again. I mailed her a card that said I had a lot of things to think about and figure out, and that I needed to do it without her influence.

Since I withdrew, I have somewhat come to terms with the fact that my mother neglected me when I was a child. It hurts to type that. I was abused by my brothers and sisters due to her neglect. The problem is that my other family members seemed to stop abusing me as they got older and realized that what they were doing was wrong (which was something that should have been enforced externally - from my mother - as we were growing up...and eventually instead became enforced internally) and my sister K seemed to become MORE abusive in a less overt and more insidious way as we grew older.

In fact, as of the last time I had any contact with her, I felt like K was abusive to her boyfriend and her children, as well. Overly-critical, inconsistently ill-tempered, seemingly annoyed by their presence all the time. And I would be extremely surprised if her eldest son does not end up with a serious eating disorder.

So...then there's this gift card.

And this unspoken offer of...what? Reconciliation?

The problem is that I'm a sucker for forgiveness. I have forgiven L about a trillion times in the time we have been together. There have been many times when I should not have forgiven him, but I have forgiven him anyway. And the pull to forgive my sister is strong. She has good qualities. She can be caring. She can be generous. She can be funny. She can be kind.

But she also can turn on a dime and go the other way. I've seen her do it. That's the quality which makes me fear for her children and anyone else who is involved with her.

But I also know that people change. I know that she is getting married in January. I know that she has been in therapy (although she was in therapy when I was there last, and that was when she was the worst she has ever been).

And then, again, she has not spoken a word about what it is that we should be forgiving. She hasn't mentioned her anger towards me. She hasn't discussed why I might be angry with her. She is just offering this gift as a peace offering, but the gift itself is somewhat descriptive of the problems that we have.

When I was in therapy, my counselor encouraged me to accept the help that my mother was offering. She told me that perhaps my mom was attempting to help me now in ways that she was unable or unwilling to help me when I was little. She's trying to protect the grown-up me the way she could not protect the little me. And that I should accept that help in the spirit it is being offered.

I know that my sister has significantly more financial security than my mother, and I'm certain that if I were to ask my sister for help with getting the divorce or fixing up the house or just about anything, she would provide whatever I need.

But I also know that would make me feel dirty and gross...because I have no desire right now to have a relationship with my sister - especially not one in which there is an imbalance of power and dependence - unless I know for sure that she will at least attempt to acknowledge my boundaries.

So, while I know I'm going to use the gift certificate she sent (most likely to fund Monk's birthday party)...I'm not sure how to respond to it. Perhaps I will have Monk write her a thank you card. I don't know.

I do know that I can't go through what I'm going through right now and pile the issues with my sister on top of everything else. It's too fucking much. It would be nice if I could just put the past behind me and ask her for financial help, but I tried to do that once, sincerely believing we could reconcile our differences, and I ended up feeling abused and on top of that feeling like everyone in the family thought I used my sister for her money or whatever. In fact, a common family theme is "you only talk to me when you want something" not just directed towards me, but I've heard it said about just about every family member.

I might just drive myself crazy turning this over and over in my head...but I think instead I will step away from the computer and engage my brain in some mindless activity like cleaning or dancing or something to disconnect a bit. It helped to write that all down.

I hope everyone has a good day and a nice weekend.

Posted at 9:51 AM • Comments (4) • TrackBack

Dogs Playing

September 14, 2003

I'm so psyched to report that right before it started shit storming here (rain pouring down and thunder and shit) the two dogs had their first ever little play session. It was great! Twyla, the hyper boxer, finally has convinced Bailey to play with her. They zoomed around the backyard, nipping and yapping and never once breaking into any serious fighting. This is EXACTLY why I wanted to get another dog. They are so fun to watch, and they are both, I'm sure, a lot happier now that they have another little canine friend to play doggy games with.

Their games was called due to rain, but I think both dogs were glad of it. They spent the next few hours panting and lolling about on the floor.

Next time, I'll have to get a picture. But I think I'm going to wait until some of this mud dries up.

Posted at 3:26 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Empathy

September 3, 2003

I have been talking to my mom a lot more lately than I have in previous years. Hell, prior to a few weeks ago, I hadn't really spoken to my mom at all in almost 2 years, other than to give her brief updates on how the kids are doing and handing the phone over to them.

I have some issues with my mom which, for those of you who are new to these issues, stem from the fact that I was mistreated by family members as a child and, according to my therapist, I was neglected by my mother. Which I had never really thought about, but I suppose is true. OK, I know it's true. When I think about my childhood, I remember clearly being pinned on the floor by my brother, who was torturing me with his whiskers and saliva, and screaming for help from my mother, who was always elsewhere in the house, and who merely would interject feebly "Cut that out" and it was never clear who she was talking to. That, and the fact that I was left alone in the house on weekend nights from the time I was 7 or 8 years old. I never, at the time, considered that to be out of the ordinary...but looking at my son, who is nearing seven, the thought of leaving him alone all night in my house would never even begin to occur to me.

So, yeah. I have some issues with my mother.

However, in talking with my mom over the past couple of weeks, I've grown to realize that my mother is wrestling with her own set of issues...from who knows where. Yes, she made some bad choices as a mom. Yes, she ignored and neglected some significant events in my life that she should have helped me resolve as they happened. The fact that she had problems does not make her mistakes any more acceptable, but it does frame her mistakes in a way that makes them at least understandable.

It really hit me the other night. We were talking, again, about my issues with L. My mom has been a most excellent listener throughout the process of separation. And she has much sage advice. She is a wise woman. Anyway, we were talking about L, and we got on the subject of my own father, who is pretty creepy in his own right. I could safely and accurately say that my father is probably much much creepier than L could ever hope to be, although they do share a lot of common behaviors.

My mom was telling me about her marriage with my father. I think I was lamenting the fact that I felt like a dupe for ever having fallen for L. Like I somehow should have known that he was wrong for me. I think I was feeling like I had failed for having not foreseen the ways in which our relationship would fail, and I asked her if she ever felt ashamed about how my father had (mis)treated her.

Yes, she had. But she explained that the advertisement was much different than the product. She said my father literally changed the day they were married. Among other atrocities, the earliest indication that all was not well happened on the airplane on their way to the honeymoon, my father turned to her and said "If you gain 20 pounds and get fat, I'm leaving you." I recall, too, my mom telling me that when she was pregnant with me, she went to visit my dad who was out of town on business. She found a babysitter for her SIX children so she could drive up to have dinner in the restaurant at which my father was staying. After the waitress took their order, my father turned to my mother and said "I gotta hand it to her" (referring to the waitress) "She acts like we've never even met."

Anyway, yeah. My dad's a class A jerk. But I was still shocked when, during the course of my conversation with my mom, she basically said that she was unable to recover her ability to trust people after breaking up with my dad. The reason she never got married again, was because she IS STILL unable to trust people.

My mom is suffering some pretty severe emotional trauma to this day. And must have been incredibly traumatized through much of my childhood. For the uninitiated here, my mom had been married once before she married my father. She had three children with that man, got divorced, and married my dad, who had three children (whose mother had died). They had me, and were divorced by the time I was three. The remarkable thing about my mother is that she raised all seven of us without any support (financially, emotionally, or otherwise) from either of the two fathers. They just left. My father just left HIS children from a previous marriage with her. Granted, she had adopted him, but I'm certain she didn't anticipate that she would be raising them as a single parent with no financial support when she did so.

The whole thing makes me want to cry. In spite of the fact that she made significant mistakes in parenting me, my mother did a pretty amazing thing. She's a strong woman who faced what must have seemed like insurmountable obstacles. When we had the discussion about how she could help me out financially, she told me that when she was breaking up with her husband, her father died...and she felt like her whole world was crumbling, and she had no support system at all.

She's doing her best to support me now. I think she always has done her best. I think perhaps her "best" was not always THE best, but it was the best she could do. If that makes any sense. I think I'm really ready to forgive her.

One thing I realized as I drove home from my last session with my therapist is that I don't necessarily have to confront her with my issues to heal from them. I think that was the major stumbling block in rebuilding my relationship with my mom - the fear of confrontation, and the fear of losing her because I had to "work things out" with her by first confronting her with all of those mistakes. I realized, all on my own, that I don't have to confront her with anyone. What I really need is for someone to say "That's fucked up...it shouldn't have happened that way." and that someone does NOT have to be my mom. My mom would never say that anyway, so if I were to wait for her to say it, I would NEVER be able to heal, AND I would lose my mom and possibly the rest of my family in the process, if I haven't already. So, that was a huge thing for me.

While I'm on the subject, I don't understand how a man could just up and leave his family. Anyone who does so is cowardly, weak, and deserves...Well, I don't know what they deserve, because I can't think of anything that could be worse than being deprived of a relationship with my children...and if someone would CHOOSE that deprivation, I really can't figure out what kind of punishment would be meaningful in that person's reality. I think the only thing worse than ACTUALLY leaving one's children is THREATENING to do so to get the other parent to comply with your wishes (and then, worse, blaming the other parent for your departure). So if any of you parental units out there are considering doing this, you can just imagine my utmost wrath being brought down upon you.

Posted at 8:23 PM • Comments (6) • TrackBack

wow. Revelation...

May 10, 2003

So I was just dancing around my living room, thinking about all of the stuff that's been rolling around up there these past few introspective weeks. And I was thinking about all of those things that I almost posted in that post about adultism, but that didn't seem true. I kept typing stuff about how my childhood was restricted, and it most certainly was not, and I couldn't figure out why I kept wanting to type that when it was not even close to the truth.

In fact, the opposite was true, as all of my brothers and sisters would resentfully attest. I did whatever the fuck I wanted to do. I had absolute freedom. I had no curfew. I frequently stayed home from school just for the heck of it (and my mom called in for me - which was allowable back in the day before the state decided to take over the job of parenting our children) and I even would have my mom call in for me after a half a day if I felt like going home. And I would walk home from school, stopping every few blocks to scribble mad poetry in my journal.

I had a lot of freedom. A lot of it. And I never abused it, and I was always very careful. I didn't do drugs, have sex, or even drink a drop of alcohol throughout high school - and all of those things, I knew, were well within my grasp. But I was careful not only because someone (my mom) trusted me enough to give me freedom, but also because I felt like those things were counter to the way I wanted to live my life. And no amount of peer pressure (and I never experienced incredibly intense peer pressure, particularly when it came to drinking, until I had a corporate job when I was well over the age of 21, but that's a different post altogether...perhaps a completely different blog.)

At any rate...so I got to thinking why I might be denying all of this liberty and feeling like I was restricted by adultism & I realized something very important and destructive happened the last time I went to visit my mom. Something that went hand in hand with the issues of abuse that cropped up. Something that invalidated a lot of the positive feelings I had about having been trusted during my unrestricted youth.

My mom actually told me that she regretted having given me that freedom. After all of these years. After knowing that I was a good kid, got straight a's, didn't get messed up. Suddenly, now that I'm an adult and living on my own, she regrets having given me freedom to make my own choices at a young age.

I can only conclude from this that she believes that I am somehow a failure. That the choices I made once I was out of her house have somehow proven to her that too much freedom is a bad thing. & while I don't believe I am a failure, I'm very sensitive to being viewed as one...particularly by my mother, to whom I had previously given much credit to my success.

This is one of those things that will need to be healed once I have the inclination to talk openly with her again...if I ever regain that inclination...but dancing around my living room today and remembering when she spoke those words. Remembering we were playing cards, laughing, having fun in the midst of a very stressful time, and she uttered those words of regret and I felt like she had literally drained all of the air out of the room. And dancing in my living room tonight, I almost doubled over with sudden rememberance &...wow. You know?

I hope as a parent I am able to have the foresight to understand that my children are going to choose their own paths in life. I hope I am able to look them in the eyes when they are adults and appreciate the paths they have chosen, without feeling resentful or regretful if those paths are drastically different from what I might have chosen for them. This is the lesson my mother has taught me, and I hope I have learned it well.

Posted at 7:48 PM • Comments (6) • TrackBack

Dear Mom (and family)

April 18, 2003

I'm writing this letter to explain myself to you, although I don't feel like I should have to explain myself to anyone who truly cares about me. And I certainly don't expect any of you to explain yourselves to me.

I'm writing this letter because there are serious problems with my relationships with all of you, and I'm tired of feeling like I need to somehow try harder or do better with these relationships. I'm tired of feeling like the problems with our relationships are my fault alone, and that all of you can continue doing what you do while I am forced to change and or conform to your standards. I certainly don't expect any of you to change or conform to my standards.

Where do I start? First, let me tell you some things about myself that you might not know. I guess I can begin by saying that I am an anarchist. In fact, it took me until this year to realize that saying I'm an anarchist describes me best politically, personally, and spiritually. I believe that people should be free to do what they want to do, provided what they want to do does not infringe on the rights of others. I believe that I have this right, and I believe the others in my life have this right. I believe that my husband has this right and that my children have this right.

The difficulty in this belief is in recognizing where I have been taught to desire control over situations, and in exterminating my desire for control. I strive to eliminate the need to exert control over the people and things in my environment which are not meant to be under my control. In this endeavor, I am not perfect, but it is crucial to my spiritual make-up to continue trying.

Another challenge inherent in my views on spiritual, political, and emotional anarchism is the absolute necessity of complete honesty and absolute justice. For people to succeed in self-government, there must be a basis of honesty. And for families to succeed in peaceful anti-authoritarianism, there must be a core of trust and authenticity. For an individual to be fully free, there must be an understanding that a worthwhile goal is something that may never be achieved, but must always be kept in sight. It is for these reasons that I am constantly questioning, constantly fighting, and constantly holding myself and those around me accountable for their actions. It's who I am.

I'm not sure how much any of you are aware of who I am or what I believe. I get the feeling I am vaguely confusing to many of you, and at the same time, no one has ever really asked. I also feel as if there are assumptions about the things I value that interfere with our ability to get along as a family. I feel like I need to tell you that the one thing in my life that feels hollow is the fact that I don't have a cohesive unit of blood relatives. I have friends, I have loves, I have so much joy, but the distance from the people I was raised by and with can be corrosive and, at times, debilitating. There are times when I feel as if I am adrift without an anchor, in spite of the fact that I know I am strong and capable. I have an intense sense of family, and I feel a great deal of remorse over the fact that my children do not have consistent contact with their relatives, as I did not have consistent contact with mine.

At the same time, I feel there has been a great deal of injustice, mistrust, and deception in the family, and because of my core beliefs, I am unable to simply swallow these things and go about my life pretending it is not so. I feel as if I am expected to ignore serious wrongs which have been done to me. And I feel as if those who wish me to keep these things to myself are asking me to do so because they have had what they consider to be more serious wrongs done to them. I feel as if you are telling me that, by comparison, my childhood was so much better, so I have no right to complain. And at the same time, I feel as if some of you might be feeling like by complaining I am somehow minimizing the significant difficulties you all have faced.

But feeling dissatisfied about the sexual inappropriateness of my sister to myself and bringing it up does not make me any less sensitive to anything anyone else has suffered in the past. And bringing it up in hopes of talking it through does not make me a whiny victim who is choosing to dwell upon the past. The fact that I am bringing it up and being told to keep quiet about it is actually more painful than the fact that it happened in the first place. As a human being, I have the need and the right to mourn for loss, and bringing up the inappropriate acts of my sister was my attempt at bringing it out in the open in order to figure out what it meant for me and how to get over the feelings that remain with me as a result of what happened. Instead of being given the opportunity to come to terms with this event, the event was instantly minimized in a very cruel and insidious way, and I felt very violated once again as a result of how this was handled.

And so, for the past 2 years, I have sought to come to terms with the fact that I may possibly lose my entire family over an event that I had no control over. An event that was about control over me. An event that has gone unrectified and that has not been apologized about even though I know my sister is aware that this is the cause of the disharmony in the family. I have been blamed. I have been accused of wrongdoing. I have been shunned. I have been asked to "forgive and forget" and to "stop making mountains out of molehills." I have been called selfish. I have been cursed out by the very person who caused all of this disharmony in the first place. I have been disowned by one of the people I had thought understood me the most of any of you.

Meanwhile, I am watching my children grow older without having contact with the main part of the family. I am dealing with a marriage that is less than ideal, and attempting to maintain what composure I have. I am dealing with a loss that is greater than I would ever wish on anyone else.

There are two warring factions inside of me that do not rest. On one side is the part of me that is so proud of who I am. The side that remains strong and struggles and has a fierce conviction for all that is just and righteous. The other side is tired, and wishes I could just shut up and relent for a little while. This side wants to wrap myself in mainstream culture and be able to go through an entire day without having to disagree with anyone about anything. This is the side that wants to convince me to keep my mouth shut and pretend that all is well so that I can relax and enjoy the things that other people seem to be able to take for granted in life. But this side is not my nature. It's not what I'm about. I simply can't keep my mouth shut and allow people to continue to delude themselves and others.

And I fear that being who I am may cause me to lose the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally. And I want with all of my heart for this to not happen, but I can't change who I am to please you or anyone else. Apparently, not even myself.

Sincerely,

drucilla

Posted at 12:56 AM • Comments (7) • TrackBack

My mom

April 17, 2003

My mom sent us a lovely easter bucket of goodies. Popcorn and peanuts and pretzels and such. It was very thoughtful, so I gave her a call to thank her, and let m talk to her for a bit...and then c...and then back to me.

Of course, when m spoke to her, he went on and on about how evil I am because I have declared a week-long ban on Age of Empires. He was playing the game entirely too much, and not spending any time engaged in other activities, so the game went up, and m has not stopped complaining about it since. (I still sort of think he should not be playing the game at all, but I hate to place that kind of importance on a computer game that's not altogether irredeemable, however, there have been bans placed on other games and activities that have become too influential in all that m does, so I didn't feel it was out of line to impose a ban on AOE.)

Anyway, so m told mamaw that he was going to run away from home because I banned the game. And, of course, Mom found it necessary to tell me this when I talked to her again, even though I could hear the whole conversation while m was talking to her.

She told me that I should "get him involved in little league" or something. Of course, growing up, the answer was ALWAYS sports. All of us were forced to be in some sort of sporting activity or another and, while I'm not averse to m being involved with sports, there are two things that make that difficult 1) we don't have a lot of spare money floating around to sign him up and/or purchase equipment and 2) generally these things happen in the evening when L's in charge, and he has not traditionally been interested in chauffering the children around.

When I mentioned contingency 1 to my mom, I was met with a gasp "What do you mean?" She queried. "I thought your job was going really well."

First of all, there would be no way she would know this, as we do not speak on a regular basis. And second, once again I'm stuck having to explain that "going really well" does not necessarily mean "rolling in dough." And, while I enjoy working where I work a great deal, I certainly do not have money to burn. And I'm so fucking sick and tired of the implication that is and has always been an undercurrent in my relationships with my family that if I'm not earning enough money, I'm somehow a failure.

I played this game with them for awhile. I believe it's one of the things that kept me at my corporate job for so long. I was so busy competing with the other members of my family. I think I was trying to prove to them that I could be successful even though I did not get a degree like they expected me to. And I think I always had the idea that they all were expecting me to fail. Waiting for me to fail, even.

Wow. I think I'm going to cry here. This is good therapy.

At any rate, when I finally realized that I was not cut out for the corporate world, and how very very miserable I was attempting to fit in someplace I was obviously not welcome, I think I also abandoned that competition I was engaging in with the other members of my family, and it wasn't long after that that things really fell apart. I came out to my mom about the fact that my sister used to masturbate in front of me when I was a small child, and I was quickly and I believe intentionally alienated from the family.

Anyway, in addition to the questioning of my income status, my mom also barbed me about homeschooling today. "Are you still homeschooling him?" She asked, in much the same way she used to ask me if I was "still" a vegetarian...as if it was something that I would finally grow out of. As if it was something I NEEDED to grow out of.

And ideas of shooting over to Chicago after my trip to DC kind of faded a bit at that point. I realize that some of these feelings that I'm getting about the subtext of our conversation are just "hunches" and it would be best to talk with her and explain why these sorts of comments make me feel unsupported and misunderstood, but the fact is that I don't have the energy to have that conversation with her. So my choice is that I either endure her comments and the subsequent feelings of inadequacy, or I avoid her altogether until I'm ready to really talk with her.

I wonder how deep this rift with my family goes, though. I mean, it appears that I have violated some very deeply-held beliefs simply by being who I am and staying true to my own values and beliefs. I don't call her and question her choices or decisions in life, and it's insulting to me that I should be questioned and judged by them. I'm pretty damn happy. I feel like I'm doing some wonderful things with my life. There are definitely some problems with certain aspects of the way I am living, but I am comfortable with the way I am handling even the most challenging situations in my life.

Damnit, I'm doing my best. There's no reason why I should have to come away from a phone call feeling the way I'm feeling right now.

Posted at 5:41 PM • Comments (10) • TrackBack