(no subject)
When I was growing up I hid a lot behind a mask. My parents started a divorce when I was 5 years old. I remember vividly the day they sat me down at my grandmother's old "adult" dining room table (which now sits in my kitchen :) ) and told me that it was happening and it wasn't my fault.
I don't know if they really expected me to understand, or if they really expected me to believe them. I do remember thinking that this isn't true, and that No, I Didn't Understand. Of course, even then I must have known what they wanted to hear. It was the first time I remember doing the actions that make me so want to scream in anger now. I just nodded my head and said "i understand".
The divorce lasted 3 years because Kevin fought for custody of me. During that time there were nasty phone calls, from him, drunk. I remember vividly - mom was absent and my Grandma Lang was reading me a fairy tale or three before bed. I answered the house phone thinking it was my mom calling to say goodnight. On the other end was Kevin, slurring his speech and demanding where "that bitch" was. And he asked his sobbing daughter to make sure I called my mother a "fucking bitch" when I saw her next.
I sobbed that night. I remember my Grandma, the harridan, going all ape shit on the phone after I started crying. Yelling that she couldn't believe what he'd done to his daughter.
When I was 8 and the divorce was over, he finally came to take me to his apartment in Louisiana.
It was fantastic! Mom and Dad were in the same house again. He could see my beloved pets, and I was going to see where he was staying, and I was going to see my Grandma Hermey. I couldn't wait. Mom had sat me down before and told me gently, and in no uncertain terms, that they would never be together again. I nodded. I said I understood.
But you know, I. Didn't. Understand.
The trip to New Orleans was a fine one. I spent time in Alabama with other family members, and time in Mississippi with coworkers of Kevin's. It was beautiful. I wish I could have seen it again before Katrina ripped it apart. I always wanted to go back. I still do, but that's another story.
I was 8. I made Kevin a card thanking him for the wonderful trip. I hugged him, kissed him, called him daddy and thanked him. I returned home to my mother. A week later I received the most devastating letter I've ever received in my life.
It was bitter, it was written by a drunken man who decided I was ungrateful. I knew what he wrote, and finally, I think I realized that even if I Didn't Understand he could hurt me less if he didn't know. The letter was angry, in it he spoke of nothing except how ungrateful I was and how much money he spent on me.
My mom read it and decided I should see a shrink. I went a few times. I only remember two to be honest. I didn't open up very well. I didn't want some strange lady seeing me in pain. Besides, my pain only made my mother cry. This, I did understand.
I think it was there that I learned my first mask.
You see Society expects so much from people. Things that no one ever really fits into. That "normal" person, that "perfect" person doesn't exist. Inside we're all much much much more alike than we let on. All of us, have the same fears, hopes, and dreams. In different ratios depending on how we were raised and what life has thrown at us, of course.
All I knew when I was 8 was I was already ostracized enough for my too short pants that were second hand. And being pulled from school for a shrink that I didn't want to talk to only made it worse. So I learned quick, don't show the emotion, don't cry, and always say you're fine, that you understand.
I locked my emotions away.
It got worse as I dealt with being bullied in school. No one bullies me now. And if they dare? Well, let's just say I pick my fights and when I do I don't look back. The first time a boy hit me in anger, I turned around and walked away head held high. It baffled him, and worked for me.
The second time? Well, let's just say he didn't walk away too fast. And I certainly didn't go anywhere.
There are two ways to deal with bullies as far as I've learned in life.
1.) Show no emotion, no fear, nothing. It baffles them.
2.) Be crueler and more vicious than they could ever dream of.
I've done both.
I learned in middle school when I was cornered by some girls who decided I'd stepped on their toes that i could look a clique in the face and talk my way out of the fight. That mask I use even today. It's a good one to slip on. I have no fear because I don't allow myself to feel the fear. I tuck it deep down inside, raise my head, and let the cold cold calm wash over me. It's the mask I use every time I feel cornered or hassled.
I've been told I go cold when I get angry, now you know why.
When I use it while fighting, it's not because I'm scared of the person I'm fighting with. It's because I'm scared of me. I'm scared of my temper.
I used that mask to face down my grandma lang when she had a nervous breakdown when I was 12. I was terrified. I stood in front of the woman that aggravated me, terrorized me periodically, but was like a second mother to her and told her no, she couldn't have her way. I was the only one she'd listened to even as she screamed and railed at me.
I lived through it.
And when it was over she apologized and asked me if I understood.
I nodded, and said I understood. I forgave her. Even though I. Didn't. Understand.
I remember vividly the day I got jerked out of my safe little world where no one could hurt me. There had been many incidents with Kevin between the age of 5 and the age of 14 when a school-mate blithely pointed out the obvious. There had been many incidents with being used as a speed bump and me refusing to be affected.
I remember the day when Linnea turned around in our science class, looked me in the eye and said: "God, you're a cold hearted bitch". It was like someone slapped me on the face hard enough to make me fall over, and all she used were words. This girl that I had hardly known for a few months.
This came a year after Kevin had refused to send me home. I think I shut down that whole year. The man I had called Daddy, and who I wanted only to love me had tried to bully me into being a tool, a weapon for him to use against my mother. That summer I spent with him had been horrible. I spent so much of it in tears after he sat me down in his garage and outlined why I should stay with him and leave my home. Never once was it because he loved me, but only because I was his.
He didn't know that I'd found the divorce papers the year before hidden in my mom's lock box in the back of her closet. It was after another of his horrible after-visit letters, and I was looking for the one he'd sent after I'd visited him in New orleans. I'd lost it and figured my mom had hidden it somewhere. I never found the letter, but what I found in the divorce papers had me hiding in the closet to cry for a good hour. The terms of the settlement hurt. Kevin had finally given in when my mom had let him write me off on his taxes. By this time I was already well aware of the "financial cost of a child" Kevin threw it in my face often.
I still don't think my mom knows that i know the exact terms of the divorce. I never told her. It would have only hurt her.
During all of this I tried to be less "cold-hearted". I tried to come out from behind my mask. I tried to make friends. And I learned a new mask. One that fit more comfortably than all the rest. The one I think isn't really a mask, but more the uncovering of me. It's the me that reared up, took all the anger and hurt, took a long hard look at the world and raised both hands with middle fingers thrust upward.
Fuck society. Fuck normalcy.
If you, if this world, could not like me because I didn't match what they thought I should be, then I didn't have time for it. I was going to do things my way and be damned what anyone else thought. And watch out when I turned 18, because goddamn men and the prissy females could get the hell out of my way. I was an angry child, an angry determined child. I learned early on to use my anger to get beyond any self-deficiencies. All I required was one person, one single person to hate with all my passion and I could find a reason to excel. So I could prove that person wrong.
I had that person in numbers. Some more than others. Kevin at the top of the list. I couldn't hate him, but I could despise his actions. I couldn't hate him, because he was my father, I loved him.
Then I met Scott and I fell in love.
The love of a family will get you through so much. It will hold you together when nothing else will. It will keep you going, if only because you love them. It's completely different than what I felt for Scott. I had written off men other than my adoptive father and a couple of male relatives. Males made fine friends because they rarely went out of their way to twist things. (and I said rarely, I know better now) However, males as more than friends or a simple distraction weren't to be trusted or borne. They were in my way and, to me, were pointless flighty creatures when it came to relationships.
Scott turned everything I'd planned and wanted upside down. For some bizarre reason he liked me. For some bizarre reason he loved me, and he listened to the fears I decided to share (reluctantly because it was damned odd trusting a male, trusting anyone for that matter). He took every barrier and crushed it. Then, he helped me rebuild them.
But they were different, they weren't as rigid or harsh.
It's this difference Im still trying to deal with. Because of Scott I had the courage to tell Kevin to leave me alone. I told this man that went out of his way to possess, humiliate, and harass me to be gone from my life. I'd known for years I was only a possession to him. A fine daughter with a fairly acceptable brain, but that never quite measured up. Never smart enough, brilliant enough, or determined enough. All I ever wanted was his love, but it was something I was never able to obtain, not without cost.
The last time i saw kevin was when I graduated high school. A couple months later he threatened Scott's life, blamed me for his failed marriages, and accused me of setting a poor example for his younger daughters. I cut him out of my life 2 years later, when I was 19, and was formally adopted by the man I call my dad. I've never regretted the adoption. I've never regretted the choice. Although I wonder more and more if I shouldn't try to make some sort of amends. It's been almost 10 years.
The choice I made was mine, Kevin, Meg, Katie, Emily, if you ever read this, you need to know that. The choice to back away from Kevin and walk away was mine. No one influenced that decision. No family member of mine, no boyfriend, no husband. My mother taught me to think for myself, something she sometimes regrets I'm sure. Scott gave me the courage to look at myself and see what needed to be done. That is all. I am controlled by no one.
I waited a long time to make sure I was serious about this young man that turned up in my life and turned it upside down. I knew he had his quirks, he warned me early, with all the youthful arrogance we both had 10 years ago that he would hurt me, wouldn't mean it, and would try not to. I still have the letter with those words in it. The letter where he first told me he loved me. I think I fell even harder for him then. You see, in all my Worldly 18 years he was the only person to ever admit to being human and to be blunt with me.
Why do I love scott? You've heard ten thousand reasons I'm sure. Sometimes I love him so much it hurts, and others I hate him for being a stubborn git. But I never hate him for more than a few minutes, because I know really I don't hate him. I wish I did sometimes, but I could never. This man that I married took me showed me that I had faults (which I'll never forgive him for :P) and then still loved me. He stayed with me, stumbled with me (still stumbles with me), and he holds my walls together when I'm afraid everything will crumble.
Somehow he saw what I wanted to be as a person and helped me form that person. And still does to this day.
Even so, even with such an understanding companion, mate, and friend I get lonely. He has his own quirks, issues, annoying behaviors, etc. I love him despite them, but they are there. And I'm still not able to completely drop my masks. I seem very open and blythe. I know this, it's not hard to admit things that you've already admitted to yourself. No one can hurt you with them if you already see them plain as day.
But sometimes, as I'm working or worrying something out of myself trying to set aside the masks that i have I get so incredibly lonely. It's a prison I built for myself and I hate it. I understand now what I did to myself to protect my family and to keep myself sane. But, I. Didn't. Understand. Then. And it hurts, and it hurts so badly to lose the anger that drives you and try to learn how to make something like love take it's place.
I'm learning, and it's so weird. Anger and hate, they're so powerful, so passionate. They burn you up as you turn a cold, calm, serene face to the world. A smile that reaches your eyes so no one ever knows the difference. A calm blank look when you really just want to scream. That burning, that insatiable fire that you turn inward it never fully leaves, even when you're trying on something new. Something calmer, more peaceful, and all the more deadly for that. I find, with what Scott has helped me see and learn, that I'm a stronger person. I endure and it doesn't take me as long to rebound. But I still can't trust, I still need to protect, but I can't let anyone protect me.
And it's so lonely not letting anyone protect you. It's so lonely letting people put things on your shoulders, knowing you want them to, and knowing you just want one person to just listen and never judge. You want your own you. Your own quiet place to just empty it all.
But as much as I trust those I care about, I don't know if I know how to trust enough.
If I make it through this and don't go nutters, and I don't drive all those I care about away, I think I'll be a stronger, better person. I hope I will be, for that's the goal. And I apologize to all of you that wonder and worry. I do adore you, you all know who you are. And as much as deep down I'd love to let you protect me, even if I could, you can't. Not from this. This is my battle, after all only you can fight yourself. And that's what I'm doing, fighting myself,and learning. It's so slow though, and I'm so impatient and lonely. And afraid. Yes, I'm afraid.
And it sucks to be afraid.
Where's that goddamned mask...
< edit: This post took me a long long time to write. Part of me almost friends locked it the moment I went to hit 'post'. I admit so much in here, almost too much. Things I don't want people to know. Or if I shared them that I shared dispassionately. No emotion = no pain. I've reread it three times now, and I'm still struggling against hiding it. Never deleting it, but hiding it so you people don't know. Because now you know I'm weak. I'm making the choice to leave it open, and to stay 'weak'. Silly emotions. >
I don't know if they really expected me to understand, or if they really expected me to believe them. I do remember thinking that this isn't true, and that No, I Didn't Understand. Of course, even then I must have known what they wanted to hear. It was the first time I remember doing the actions that make me so want to scream in anger now. I just nodded my head and said "i understand".
The divorce lasted 3 years because Kevin fought for custody of me. During that time there were nasty phone calls, from him, drunk. I remember vividly - mom was absent and my Grandma Lang was reading me a fairy tale or three before bed. I answered the house phone thinking it was my mom calling to say goodnight. On the other end was Kevin, slurring his speech and demanding where "that bitch" was. And he asked his sobbing daughter to make sure I called my mother a "fucking bitch" when I saw her next.
I sobbed that night. I remember my Grandma, the harridan, going all ape shit on the phone after I started crying. Yelling that she couldn't believe what he'd done to his daughter.
When I was 8 and the divorce was over, he finally came to take me to his apartment in Louisiana.
It was fantastic! Mom and Dad were in the same house again. He could see my beloved pets, and I was going to see where he was staying, and I was going to see my Grandma Hermey. I couldn't wait. Mom had sat me down before and told me gently, and in no uncertain terms, that they would never be together again. I nodded. I said I understood.
But you know, I. Didn't. Understand.
The trip to New Orleans was a fine one. I spent time in Alabama with other family members, and time in Mississippi with coworkers of Kevin's. It was beautiful. I wish I could have seen it again before Katrina ripped it apart. I always wanted to go back. I still do, but that's another story.
I was 8. I made Kevin a card thanking him for the wonderful trip. I hugged him, kissed him, called him daddy and thanked him. I returned home to my mother. A week later I received the most devastating letter I've ever received in my life.
It was bitter, it was written by a drunken man who decided I was ungrateful. I knew what he wrote, and finally, I think I realized that even if I Didn't Understand he could hurt me less if he didn't know. The letter was angry, in it he spoke of nothing except how ungrateful I was and how much money he spent on me.
My mom read it and decided I should see a shrink. I went a few times. I only remember two to be honest. I didn't open up very well. I didn't want some strange lady seeing me in pain. Besides, my pain only made my mother cry. This, I did understand.
I think it was there that I learned my first mask.
You see Society expects so much from people. Things that no one ever really fits into. That "normal" person, that "perfect" person doesn't exist. Inside we're all much much much more alike than we let on. All of us, have the same fears, hopes, and dreams. In different ratios depending on how we were raised and what life has thrown at us, of course.
All I knew when I was 8 was I was already ostracized enough for my too short pants that were second hand. And being pulled from school for a shrink that I didn't want to talk to only made it worse. So I learned quick, don't show the emotion, don't cry, and always say you're fine, that you understand.
I locked my emotions away.
It got worse as I dealt with being bullied in school. No one bullies me now. And if they dare? Well, let's just say I pick my fights and when I do I don't look back. The first time a boy hit me in anger, I turned around and walked away head held high. It baffled him, and worked for me.
The second time? Well, let's just say he didn't walk away too fast. And I certainly didn't go anywhere.
There are two ways to deal with bullies as far as I've learned in life.
1.) Show no emotion, no fear, nothing. It baffles them.
2.) Be crueler and more vicious than they could ever dream of.
I've done both.
I learned in middle school when I was cornered by some girls who decided I'd stepped on their toes that i could look a clique in the face and talk my way out of the fight. That mask I use even today. It's a good one to slip on. I have no fear because I don't allow myself to feel the fear. I tuck it deep down inside, raise my head, and let the cold cold calm wash over me. It's the mask I use every time I feel cornered or hassled.
I've been told I go cold when I get angry, now you know why.
When I use it while fighting, it's not because I'm scared of the person I'm fighting with. It's because I'm scared of me. I'm scared of my temper.
I used that mask to face down my grandma lang when she had a nervous breakdown when I was 12. I was terrified. I stood in front of the woman that aggravated me, terrorized me periodically, but was like a second mother to her and told her no, she couldn't have her way. I was the only one she'd listened to even as she screamed and railed at me.
I lived through it.
And when it was over she apologized and asked me if I understood.
I nodded, and said I understood. I forgave her. Even though I. Didn't. Understand.
I remember vividly the day I got jerked out of my safe little world where no one could hurt me. There had been many incidents with Kevin between the age of 5 and the age of 14 when a school-mate blithely pointed out the obvious. There had been many incidents with being used as a speed bump and me refusing to be affected.
I remember the day when Linnea turned around in our science class, looked me in the eye and said: "God, you're a cold hearted bitch". It was like someone slapped me on the face hard enough to make me fall over, and all she used were words. This girl that I had hardly known for a few months.
This came a year after Kevin had refused to send me home. I think I shut down that whole year. The man I had called Daddy, and who I wanted only to love me had tried to bully me into being a tool, a weapon for him to use against my mother. That summer I spent with him had been horrible. I spent so much of it in tears after he sat me down in his garage and outlined why I should stay with him and leave my home. Never once was it because he loved me, but only because I was his.
He didn't know that I'd found the divorce papers the year before hidden in my mom's lock box in the back of her closet. It was after another of his horrible after-visit letters, and I was looking for the one he'd sent after I'd visited him in New orleans. I'd lost it and figured my mom had hidden it somewhere. I never found the letter, but what I found in the divorce papers had me hiding in the closet to cry for a good hour. The terms of the settlement hurt. Kevin had finally given in when my mom had let him write me off on his taxes. By this time I was already well aware of the "financial cost of a child" Kevin threw it in my face often.
I still don't think my mom knows that i know the exact terms of the divorce. I never told her. It would have only hurt her.
During all of this I tried to be less "cold-hearted". I tried to come out from behind my mask. I tried to make friends. And I learned a new mask. One that fit more comfortably than all the rest. The one I think isn't really a mask, but more the uncovering of me. It's the me that reared up, took all the anger and hurt, took a long hard look at the world and raised both hands with middle fingers thrust upward.
Fuck society. Fuck normalcy.
If you, if this world, could not like me because I didn't match what they thought I should be, then I didn't have time for it. I was going to do things my way and be damned what anyone else thought. And watch out when I turned 18, because goddamn men and the prissy females could get the hell out of my way. I was an angry child, an angry determined child. I learned early on to use my anger to get beyond any self-deficiencies. All I required was one person, one single person to hate with all my passion and I could find a reason to excel. So I could prove that person wrong.
I had that person in numbers. Some more than others. Kevin at the top of the list. I couldn't hate him, but I could despise his actions. I couldn't hate him, because he was my father, I loved him.
Then I met Scott and I fell in love.
The love of a family will get you through so much. It will hold you together when nothing else will. It will keep you going, if only because you love them. It's completely different than what I felt for Scott. I had written off men other than my adoptive father and a couple of male relatives. Males made fine friends because they rarely went out of their way to twist things. (and I said rarely, I know better now) However, males as more than friends or a simple distraction weren't to be trusted or borne. They were in my way and, to me, were pointless flighty creatures when it came to relationships.
Scott turned everything I'd planned and wanted upside down. For some bizarre reason he liked me. For some bizarre reason he loved me, and he listened to the fears I decided to share (reluctantly because it was damned odd trusting a male, trusting anyone for that matter). He took every barrier and crushed it. Then, he helped me rebuild them.
But they were different, they weren't as rigid or harsh.
It's this difference Im still trying to deal with. Because of Scott I had the courage to tell Kevin to leave me alone. I told this man that went out of his way to possess, humiliate, and harass me to be gone from my life. I'd known for years I was only a possession to him. A fine daughter with a fairly acceptable brain, but that never quite measured up. Never smart enough, brilliant enough, or determined enough. All I ever wanted was his love, but it was something I was never able to obtain, not without cost.
The last time i saw kevin was when I graduated high school. A couple months later he threatened Scott's life, blamed me for his failed marriages, and accused me of setting a poor example for his younger daughters. I cut him out of my life 2 years later, when I was 19, and was formally adopted by the man I call my dad. I've never regretted the adoption. I've never regretted the choice. Although I wonder more and more if I shouldn't try to make some sort of amends. It's been almost 10 years.
The choice I made was mine, Kevin, Meg, Katie, Emily, if you ever read this, you need to know that. The choice to back away from Kevin and walk away was mine. No one influenced that decision. No family member of mine, no boyfriend, no husband. My mother taught me to think for myself, something she sometimes regrets I'm sure. Scott gave me the courage to look at myself and see what needed to be done. That is all. I am controlled by no one.
I waited a long time to make sure I was serious about this young man that turned up in my life and turned it upside down. I knew he had his quirks, he warned me early, with all the youthful arrogance we both had 10 years ago that he would hurt me, wouldn't mean it, and would try not to. I still have the letter with those words in it. The letter where he first told me he loved me. I think I fell even harder for him then. You see, in all my Worldly 18 years he was the only person to ever admit to being human and to be blunt with me.
Why do I love scott? You've heard ten thousand reasons I'm sure. Sometimes I love him so much it hurts, and others I hate him for being a stubborn git. But I never hate him for more than a few minutes, because I know really I don't hate him. I wish I did sometimes, but I could never. This man that I married took me showed me that I had faults (which I'll never forgive him for :P) and then still loved me. He stayed with me, stumbled with me (still stumbles with me), and he holds my walls together when I'm afraid everything will crumble.
Somehow he saw what I wanted to be as a person and helped me form that person. And still does to this day.
Even so, even with such an understanding companion, mate, and friend I get lonely. He has his own quirks, issues, annoying behaviors, etc. I love him despite them, but they are there. And I'm still not able to completely drop my masks. I seem very open and blythe. I know this, it's not hard to admit things that you've already admitted to yourself. No one can hurt you with them if you already see them plain as day.
But sometimes, as I'm working or worrying something out of myself trying to set aside the masks that i have I get so incredibly lonely. It's a prison I built for myself and I hate it. I understand now what I did to myself to protect my family and to keep myself sane. But, I. Didn't. Understand. Then. And it hurts, and it hurts so badly to lose the anger that drives you and try to learn how to make something like love take it's place.
I'm learning, and it's so weird. Anger and hate, they're so powerful, so passionate. They burn you up as you turn a cold, calm, serene face to the world. A smile that reaches your eyes so no one ever knows the difference. A calm blank look when you really just want to scream. That burning, that insatiable fire that you turn inward it never fully leaves, even when you're trying on something new. Something calmer, more peaceful, and all the more deadly for that. I find, with what Scott has helped me see and learn, that I'm a stronger person. I endure and it doesn't take me as long to rebound. But I still can't trust, I still need to protect, but I can't let anyone protect me.
And it's so lonely not letting anyone protect you. It's so lonely letting people put things on your shoulders, knowing you want them to, and knowing you just want one person to just listen and never judge. You want your own you. Your own quiet place to just empty it all.
But as much as I trust those I care about, I don't know if I know how to trust enough.
If I make it through this and don't go nutters, and I don't drive all those I care about away, I think I'll be a stronger, better person. I hope I will be, for that's the goal. And I apologize to all of you that wonder and worry. I do adore you, you all know who you are. And as much as deep down I'd love to let you protect me, even if I could, you can't. Not from this. This is my battle, after all only you can fight yourself. And that's what I'm doing, fighting myself,and learning. It's so slow though, and I'm so impatient and lonely. And afraid. Yes, I'm afraid.
And it sucks to be afraid.
Where's that goddamned mask...
< edit: This post took me a long long time to write. Part of me almost friends locked it the moment I went to hit 'post'. I admit so much in here, almost too much. Things I don't want people to know. Or if I shared them that I shared dispassionately. No emotion = no pain. I've reread it three times now, and I'm still struggling against hiding it. Never deleting it, but hiding it so you people don't know. Because now you know I'm weak. I'm making the choice to leave it open, and to stay 'weak'. Silly emotions. >