What a fantastic Easter!!! Started the morning at church, which was so enjoyable. The music and the singing were very uplifting. The sacrament was moving and the perfect start to the day.
We had ten for dinner, and even with all the prep. and the mess, and the general confusion of the day, I didn't feel stressed at all! The children also had a wonderful time.
Though I ate more than I really needed to, I did not end this day with the self-loathing that I normally feel after spending the day with my family of origin. None of the old "button pushing" or sniping. None of the compulsive stuffing down of feelings. I feel good about myself, good about my family, good about our Easter party! What a refreshing change.
The only niggling thought I have is this: What did my mother tell the rest of the family about why we weren't there today? She would NEVER, in a million years, admit that there might be a "problem", so this has been on my mind somewhat today. Oh, to be a fly on the wall!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Ch-ch-ch-changes!!!
Spring is in the air, I can just feel it!!! Things smell different -- look different. Bulbs are pushing, leaves are budding. There is also a subtle shift in my outlook. I am very excited for several upcoming events. The first will be tomorrow, when my family will join some extended family members to celebrate Palm Sunday. This has become an annual event, and we are so happy to have been included in the festivities again this year.
The second event will be next Sunday, when we will celebrate Easter with some of these same relatives. This will be the first time I have ever hosted this holiday in my home. The reason that I am so excited is rather complex. It will be the first time in my married life (23 years now) that we will not be joining my mother and father for the holiday. They, however, will not be joining us. Why? (You may be wondering -- or not.) Because my brother is a sociopath with a full-blown personality disorder, and I am no longer willing to be his "whipping boy".
The problem with "Sid Vicious" came to a head again in January. This, interestingly enough, coincided with my daughter's 12th birthday. We were at my parents' house for dinner as a send-off for my eldest nephew before he went back to college. Sid came in oozing attitude, and aggressive to beat the band. Well, he baited me, and I took it like a starving carp! My dad decided to get in on the "fun" and pretty soon they were tag teaming me like professional wrestlers. I became so agitated and angry that I packed up my son and my belongings, and walked home in the dark. My blood pressure was quite elevated for the next two weeks. (168/98 if you're interested. It's amazing that I didn't blow an aneurysm and stroke out or have a heart attack!)
I decided that THAT was going to be the LAST time I spent any time with my sibling. He is a peculiarly perverse ass-hat kinda guy. He needs some SERIOUS therapy, or medication, or BOTH. It took me until the first weekend of March to work up the nerve to tell my mother that we wouldn't be joining the family for the Easter fete. First, it took that long to calm down. Second, it took that long to find a way to tell her without swearing like a stevedore or laying the blame squarely at her feet.
I am a firm believer that bullies are bullies because they are ALLOWED to be. Truly, we do not get a "test" set of children. And we all do the best that we can do with the resources we have available. But, in the case of my brother, there were some SERIOUS holes in the sieve that was my upbringing.
Dad was largely absent as I was growing up. Either because he was working, or hunting, or fishing, or later, going to church functions when he "got religion". Even when he was home, he was absent. Lost in endless, boring television.
Mom never worked outside the home, and was really on her own raising us. She had a wicked mean temper when we were young, and did a lot of yelling and swatting. (No beatings, but she near scared me half to death!) She and dad "found Jesus" when I was 7 and Sid was 12. Things changed in a BIG way after that!!! I could show you pews in my home church that have permanent ass prints from my behind because we were there every time the flipping doors were opened!! Most of my memories from childhood come after the conversion. But I think Sid remembers some of the "darker" days of my mother's temper, and this became the foundation for his ANGRY personality.
I became the "uber" responsible child. Afraid that anything I did wrong would send me straight to Hell. (Do not pass GO, do not collect $200.00.) And so, I spent my childhood and teenage years doing everything I could think of to please them, and to please God. I was GOD GIRL!!! (Can't believe I still have ANY friends from that time at all! Or that I had any friends!) I was sooooo holy, sooooo sanctimonious, sooooo RIGHT!!! I was not good because I was a goody-goody -- I was good because I was so afraid to be bad. The consequences were dire in my household. (For me -- not Sid.)
Thank God I had an aunt who had her head screwed on right, and was willing to forbear my upbringing, and love me until I came to my senses. She is my father's youngest sister, and is well aware of his many short-comings. We are very close to this day. I love her for many things, but mostly for the spiritual mentor she has been, and continues to be.
Anyway, Sid's behavior only continued to escalate in violent ways towards me until he finally moved out when I was 15. That was the first time in memory that I felt safe in my home. He was verbally and physically abusive to me. And I HATED him for it. But, I could never say that, because you go to Hell for hating anyone. So, he continued his insidious abuse, threatening me to ensure my silence, and life went on.
Now, I have a 12 year old daughter of my own. I think about the things that happened to me when I was 8, 9, 10, 11, and finally 12. I look at her -- and I think -- OH MY GOD!!!! HOW COULD MY MOTHER HAVE TOLERATED THE ABUSE THAT WAS TAKING PLACE RIGHT UNDER HER NOSE, AND NOT HAVE DONE ANYTHING ABOUT IT????? If ANYONE treated my child like Sid treated me -- I would emancipate the bastard and throw him out of my freaking house!!!
But, "the withholders", as I like to refer to my parents, refused to see anything wrong in our home. Life went on, and I shut up!!! And I ATE to swallow my feelings, and to swallow my anger, and to stuff it all down until I became drugged, and stopped feeling so bad.
In my father's family, boys are valued much more than girls, and women are just so much chattel. So, no matter what Sid did, it was just GREAT!!! Bad grades? GREAT! You did your best! Come home drunk? GREAT! Mom will have that cleaned up and your bed changed in a jiff so you can sleep it off! Flunk out of school? GREAT! Now Nory will have to start saving for college at the age of 12 because Sid fucked up! But never a word of praise for the (allegory here) "son" who stayed home and worked the farm -- NO, we'll just continue killing the fatted calf for the prodigal every damn time he comes home again!!! Well, the herd got mighty slim 'til it was time for me to go out on my own. And precious little left for my inheritance because of Sid's debauchery. (Not that girls deserve anything, anyway.)
So, by now, if your eyes haven't flipped up into their sockets, and you haven't gone unconscious, you may be wondering how I've gotten to the ripe old age of 43 without telling these people where to get off!!! Well, my indoctrination was thorough, and my belief system firmly in place. A friend of mine is a priest who says, "Give me a child until he is 12 and I'll give you a Catholic for life!" Same thing -- "Abuse a child until they are 12, and they will take the abuse for life!!
My aha! moment came in January, when my own daughter turned twelve. That is the age at which I began my descent. I can remember clearly that I was 5'2" and weighed 112 pounds. I was a little pudgy because I did not have good muscle tone, but surely NOT fat, or even overweight. But in the period of three years, my weight ballooned to 204!!! Holy shit!!! By the time I was 15, I was 5'8" tall and weighed 204 pounds!!! What good parent doesn't think "Hmmmm.....something might be wrong here?" But all I got was a bunch of grief about my weight. No support. No help. No resources. Just grief.
I realized, in that moment, that I needed to be all of the things for my daughter that my mother was NOT for me. And one of those things is a protector from abuse. I don't want my daughter to grow up thinking it is okay for anyone to demean her in front of other people. I don't want my daughter to witness anyone else demoralizing me, and think that this behavior is okay. I want her to grow up strong, and protected, and educated, and valued!!!! And she will not get those values by being around my brother. So I am making the choice to stop being where he is.
We have also decided to start our own family traditions this year. If my parents work into the equation, fine. If not, that is their choice. But things are going to be on MY terms now. I feel strong. I feel resolved. I feel positive. And my husband is supporting me 100%. I think he is relieved to NOT have to go to my parents' house this year. Granted, it's going to create a whole bunch of work for me -- but in the end, I think it's going to be SO worth it!!!
The second event will be next Sunday, when we will celebrate Easter with some of these same relatives. This will be the first time I have ever hosted this holiday in my home. The reason that I am so excited is rather complex. It will be the first time in my married life (23 years now) that we will not be joining my mother and father for the holiday. They, however, will not be joining us. Why? (You may be wondering -- or not.) Because my brother is a sociopath with a full-blown personality disorder, and I am no longer willing to be his "whipping boy".
The problem with "Sid Vicious" came to a head again in January. This, interestingly enough, coincided with my daughter's 12th birthday. We were at my parents' house for dinner as a send-off for my eldest nephew before he went back to college. Sid came in oozing attitude, and aggressive to beat the band. Well, he baited me, and I took it like a starving carp! My dad decided to get in on the "fun" and pretty soon they were tag teaming me like professional wrestlers. I became so agitated and angry that I packed up my son and my belongings, and walked home in the dark. My blood pressure was quite elevated for the next two weeks. (168/98 if you're interested. It's amazing that I didn't blow an aneurysm and stroke out or have a heart attack!)
I decided that THAT was going to be the LAST time I spent any time with my sibling. He is a peculiarly perverse ass-hat kinda guy. He needs some SERIOUS therapy, or medication, or BOTH. It took me until the first weekend of March to work up the nerve to tell my mother that we wouldn't be joining the family for the Easter fete. First, it took that long to calm down. Second, it took that long to find a way to tell her without swearing like a stevedore or laying the blame squarely at her feet.
I am a firm believer that bullies are bullies because they are ALLOWED to be. Truly, we do not get a "test" set of children. And we all do the best that we can do with the resources we have available. But, in the case of my brother, there were some SERIOUS holes in the sieve that was my upbringing.
Dad was largely absent as I was growing up. Either because he was working, or hunting, or fishing, or later, going to church functions when he "got religion". Even when he was home, he was absent. Lost in endless, boring television.
Mom never worked outside the home, and was really on her own raising us. She had a wicked mean temper when we were young, and did a lot of yelling and swatting. (No beatings, but she near scared me half to death!) She and dad "found Jesus" when I was 7 and Sid was 12. Things changed in a BIG way after that!!! I could show you pews in my home church that have permanent ass prints from my behind because we were there every time the flipping doors were opened!! Most of my memories from childhood come after the conversion. But I think Sid remembers some of the "darker" days of my mother's temper, and this became the foundation for his ANGRY personality.
I became the "uber" responsible child. Afraid that anything I did wrong would send me straight to Hell. (Do not pass GO, do not collect $200.00.) And so, I spent my childhood and teenage years doing everything I could think of to please them, and to please God. I was GOD GIRL!!! (Can't believe I still have ANY friends from that time at all! Or that I had any friends!) I was sooooo holy, sooooo sanctimonious, sooooo RIGHT!!! I was not good because I was a goody-goody -- I was good because I was so afraid to be bad. The consequences were dire in my household. (For me -- not Sid.)
Thank God I had an aunt who had her head screwed on right, and was willing to forbear my upbringing, and love me until I came to my senses. She is my father's youngest sister, and is well aware of his many short-comings. We are very close to this day. I love her for many things, but mostly for the spiritual mentor she has been, and continues to be.
Anyway, Sid's behavior only continued to escalate in violent ways towards me until he finally moved out when I was 15. That was the first time in memory that I felt safe in my home. He was verbally and physically abusive to me. And I HATED him for it. But, I could never say that, because you go to Hell for hating anyone. So, he continued his insidious abuse, threatening me to ensure my silence, and life went on.
Now, I have a 12 year old daughter of my own. I think about the things that happened to me when I was 8, 9, 10, 11, and finally 12. I look at her -- and I think -- OH MY GOD!!!! HOW COULD MY MOTHER HAVE TOLERATED THE ABUSE THAT WAS TAKING PLACE RIGHT UNDER HER NOSE, AND NOT HAVE DONE ANYTHING ABOUT IT????? If ANYONE treated my child like Sid treated me -- I would emancipate the bastard and throw him out of my freaking house!!!
But, "the withholders", as I like to refer to my parents, refused to see anything wrong in our home. Life went on, and I shut up!!! And I ATE to swallow my feelings, and to swallow my anger, and to stuff it all down until I became drugged, and stopped feeling so bad.
In my father's family, boys are valued much more than girls, and women are just so much chattel. So, no matter what Sid did, it was just GREAT!!! Bad grades? GREAT! You did your best! Come home drunk? GREAT! Mom will have that cleaned up and your bed changed in a jiff so you can sleep it off! Flunk out of school? GREAT! Now Nory will have to start saving for college at the age of 12 because Sid fucked up! But never a word of praise for the (allegory here) "son" who stayed home and worked the farm -- NO, we'll just continue killing the fatted calf for the prodigal every damn time he comes home again!!! Well, the herd got mighty slim 'til it was time for me to go out on my own. And precious little left for my inheritance because of Sid's debauchery. (Not that girls deserve anything, anyway.)
So, by now, if your eyes haven't flipped up into their sockets, and you haven't gone unconscious, you may be wondering how I've gotten to the ripe old age of 43 without telling these people where to get off!!! Well, my indoctrination was thorough, and my belief system firmly in place. A friend of mine is a priest who says, "Give me a child until he is 12 and I'll give you a Catholic for life!" Same thing -- "Abuse a child until they are 12, and they will take the abuse for life!!
My aha! moment came in January, when my own daughter turned twelve. That is the age at which I began my descent. I can remember clearly that I was 5'2" and weighed 112 pounds. I was a little pudgy because I did not have good muscle tone, but surely NOT fat, or even overweight. But in the period of three years, my weight ballooned to 204!!! Holy shit!!! By the time I was 15, I was 5'8" tall and weighed 204 pounds!!! What good parent doesn't think "Hmmmm.....something might be wrong here?" But all I got was a bunch of grief about my weight. No support. No help. No resources. Just grief.
I realized, in that moment, that I needed to be all of the things for my daughter that my mother was NOT for me. And one of those things is a protector from abuse. I don't want my daughter to grow up thinking it is okay for anyone to demean her in front of other people. I don't want my daughter to witness anyone else demoralizing me, and think that this behavior is okay. I want her to grow up strong, and protected, and educated, and valued!!!! And she will not get those values by being around my brother. So I am making the choice to stop being where he is.
We have also decided to start our own family traditions this year. If my parents work into the equation, fine. If not, that is their choice. But things are going to be on MY terms now. I feel strong. I feel resolved. I feel positive. And my husband is supporting me 100%. I think he is relieved to NOT have to go to my parents' house this year. Granted, it's going to create a whole bunch of work for me -- but in the end, I think it's going to be SO worth it!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)