You know what really pisses me off?
(Cathartic disjointed whining and wibbling, feel quite free to scroll down - it’s good exercise for your fingers!)
Nobody wants to know about this kind of reality. They can handle one thing at a time, some of them, either the disability or the abuse, but not both. But they don’t realise that *they* don’t have to handle any of it - I do, I don’t expect others to. I went for years not telling anyone about any of it - including the disability, but it was acceptable for everyone to tell me about the detailed and miserable minutia of their lives.
I was the clown, the jester, quick with words, jokes, witty remarks. Had to entertain constantly to distract people, get their attention, so they would like me. Years of being well trained, ‘you’re so depressing’, ‘there are others worse off than you’, ‘so negative’, ‘you’re making a big deal of nothing’, ‘life’s not fair’, ‘no wonder no one likes you’, ‘just ignore her, knowitall with her big words’. It was easy, all they had to do was get up and walk away when I started talking, knowing that by the time I struggled out of my chair and followed, I would have forgotten what I was talking about. Questioning *everything* I said - even when I was repeating what someone else said, ‘you probably got it wrong’, in response to *everything*. Then when I *wouldn’t* talk, bailing me up and haranguing me for hours, ‘I’m not leaving your room till you tell me what’s wrong’. So I was stuck, because I knew that he wouldn’t want to hear what was wrong, but I couldn’t say that because he would deny it. At least my mother was straightforward in her cruelty.
I’ve written variations of the following on other places in LJ, but for some reason not in here:
I turned 13, and ‘mother’ had some bee in her bonnet about the fact that I didn’t get my period on the dot of turning 13, and assumed that because I was born prematurely and had CP that this would affect the timing of my period (they never had any interest in getting correct factual info about my disability - that would mean they had to allow for it in the way they treated me), so one day she told me we were going to the doctor, but wouldn’t tell me why (not unusual - very authoritarian person that she is), we went and next thing I knew, I was up on the exam table with this doctor’s hand between my legs giving me an internal examination. Supposdly to check if I was ‘normal’ there. Neither of them told me what he was going to do, or why (no medical reason for this btw - wildly inappropriate and unprofessional on his part - was told by female medics and women’s health nurses many years later that this was *totally* unwarranted). I had *no fucking idea* at the time of what an internal examination *was*. At this point I disassociated (as I had been doing for years with other invasive and painful medical experiences) and don’t remember a thing until I stood in the waiting room asking my ‘mother’ “Why didn’t you *tell* me what was going to happen?” Her response “I knew that if I told you, that you wouldn’t agree to come.” ???????
Of course, it turned out that I was *perfectly* normal in this respect - got my period a few months later - well within the ‘normal’ time range.
A year or so ago, I had my first pap smear. A women’s health nurse who I know and trust. I started crying hysterically when she inserted the speculum, it hurt. She stopped, without questions.
It was pointed out to me very recently that this - “Why didn’t you *tell* me what was going to happen?” Her response “I knew that if I told you, that you wouldn’t agree to come.” ??????? - is the way you treat your dog when it has to be taken to the vet, not what you do to a child when you take them for an invasive medical procedure. I hadn’t realised that until now. But then, that is the legacy a family like mine leaves, reality is backwards, upside down, no matter how smart you are, you don’t realise that this is not normal. I still expect criticism for everything I say, think or do. Every time I write something here and I click ‘submit’ I expect people to comment telling me that I’m whiny, pathetic, weak, self centred, wrong. I flinch every time a comment drops into my mailbox.
It completely discombobulates me when I hear about parents who treat their children with respect, I feel like I’ve been dropped into Bizzaro World. I’m shocked when people *don’t* attack or ignore me.
OK, I feel a little bit better now.
Nobody wants to know about this kind of reality. They can handle one thing at a time, some of them, either the disability or the abuse, but not both. But they don’t realise that *they* don’t have to handle any of it - I do, I don’t expect others to. I went for years not telling anyone about any of it - including the disability, but it was acceptable for everyone to tell me about the detailed and miserable minutia of their lives.
I was the clown, the jester, quick with words, jokes, witty remarks. Had to entertain constantly to distract people, get their attention, so they would like me. Years of being well trained, ‘you’re so depressing’, ‘there are others worse off than you’, ‘so negative’, ‘you’re making a big deal of nothing’, ‘life’s not fair’, ‘no wonder no one likes you’, ‘just ignore her, knowitall with her big words’. It was easy, all they had to do was get up and walk away when I started talking, knowing that by the time I struggled out of my chair and followed, I would have forgotten what I was talking about. Questioning *everything* I said - even when I was repeating what someone else said, ‘you probably got it wrong’, in response to *everything*. Then when I *wouldn’t* talk, bailing me up and haranguing me for hours, ‘I’m not leaving your room till you tell me what’s wrong’. So I was stuck, because I knew that he wouldn’t want to hear what was wrong, but I couldn’t say that because he would deny it. At least my mother was straightforward in her cruelty.
I’ve written variations of the following on other places in LJ, but for some reason not in here:
I turned 13, and ‘mother’ had some bee in her bonnet about the fact that I didn’t get my period on the dot of turning 13, and assumed that because I was born prematurely and had CP that this would affect the timing of my period (they never had any interest in getting correct factual info about my disability - that would mean they had to allow for it in the way they treated me), so one day she told me we were going to the doctor, but wouldn’t tell me why (not unusual - very authoritarian person that she is), we went and next thing I knew, I was up on the exam table with this doctor’s hand between my legs giving me an internal examination. Supposdly to check if I was ‘normal’ there. Neither of them told me what he was going to do, or why (no medical reason for this btw - wildly inappropriate and unprofessional on his part - was told by female medics and women’s health nurses many years later that this was *totally* unwarranted). I had *no fucking idea* at the time of what an internal examination *was*. At this point I disassociated (as I had been doing for years with other invasive and painful medical experiences) and don’t remember a thing until I stood in the waiting room asking my ‘mother’ “Why didn’t you *tell* me what was going to happen?” Her response “I knew that if I told you, that you wouldn’t agree to come.” ???????
Of course, it turned out that I was *perfectly* normal in this respect - got my period a few months later - well within the ‘normal’ time range.
A year or so ago, I had my first pap smear. A women’s health nurse who I know and trust. I started crying hysterically when she inserted the speculum, it hurt. She stopped, without questions.
It was pointed out to me very recently that this - “Why didn’t you *tell* me what was going to happen?” Her response “I knew that if I told you, that you wouldn’t agree to come.” ??????? - is the way you treat your dog when it has to be taken to the vet, not what you do to a child when you take them for an invasive medical procedure. I hadn’t realised that until now. But then, that is the legacy a family like mine leaves, reality is backwards, upside down, no matter how smart you are, you don’t realise that this is not normal. I still expect criticism for everything I say, think or do. Every time I write something here and I click ‘submit’ I expect people to comment telling me that I’m whiny, pathetic, weak, self centred, wrong. I flinch every time a comment drops into my mailbox.
It completely discombobulates me when I hear about parents who treat their children with respect, I feel like I’ve been dropped into Bizzaro World. I’m shocked when people *don’t* attack or ignore me.
OK, I feel a little bit better now.