(no subject)
For anyone who doesn't have an "in" into my family situation, I should start by saying that I don't really have a family.
My father's family never accepted me, from the time that I was born. In fact, my paternal grandparents made it very clear from an early age that I wasn't welcome in their home in sometimes obvious and sometimes not so obvious ways. Christmas 1986 would be a prime example of this - when all 30+ grandkids were at their home for Christmas and all 30+ received a present from Grandma Sylvia and Grandpa Keith, except 6 year old Breezy... My uncle Keith, drunk and sitting by the Christmas tree, even made a joke about the only little NDN with no Christmas present that year...
So in 1994, when my father left and never came back, it goes without saying that the ties with his family were also permanently severed.
My mother's family is distant from one another. Both of her parents are dead and her brothers and sisters barely speak to each other. When they do come together (for funerals) their reunions are marked by dirty looks, shouting matches, and promises to never speak again - about the only promises that they can manage to keep.
For the last 25 years, the only family I've ever really had is my Mom.
My relationship with my mother has been a love / hate one for as long as I can remember.
And like many mothers and daughters, we have been known to have awful fights and falling outs.
But this time, the damage may be irreperable.
About 8 weeks, ago, some skeletons escaped from my closet after an incident at a bar in Minneapolis. Thankfully, nothing awful happened. But the event shook up a lot of dust for me. Nightmares from three years ago - memories of being raped and beaten, the police and doctors and hospitals, the trial - everything came flooding back.
Then a couple of weeks ago, the most awful falling out with my mother and stepfather...
My stepfather is a wonderful man who cares for my mother dearly. I am so grateful for all that he's done for me and for my mother. And yet...
He's a touchy-sort of person.
What I mean by that is - if I'm sitting in a chair, he'll slap my knee or grab my foot as he walks by. He sometimes pulls me onto his lap or gives me big bear hugs with little or no notice. Sometimes he walks up behind me and slaps my butt - you know, like a basketball coach. This would be all fine and good except that it really bothers me.
I don't want to make him sound like a pervert at all. I have no doubt in my mind that there is no malicious intent or sexual motivations behind his actions. He's just one of those touchy people...
On many, many, many occasions I have tried to explain how uncomfortable his actions make me feel. How much I flinch when I don't expect to be grabbed and how I wish he would stop doing this - or at least ask, or give some verbal warning prior to touching me. But he continues...
Finally...
After three years...
I snapped.
I'm certain that it all came to a head because of all the fresh memories that were brought to the forefront after someone slipped something into my drink in October. As much as I try to dismiss that event, it shook me to the core to think of what could have happened, what someone's intentions were that night. All of my fears from August of 2002 were suddenly right in front of me again - a hurdle I had to get over.
I was at mom and stepfather's house visiting, the week after Halloween. I was standing in the kitchen looking through some of my mail when Tom came up behind me and lightly patted me on my butt - you know, like a sports coach would do...
And instantly, before I knew what was happening, I was in tears. I was sobbing uncontrollably, begging, pleading for him to never do that again.
Of course, it turned into an awful argument.
My mom is convinced that I need to just suck it up and move on, and stop dwelling in the past. Tom is convinced that I'm an ungrateful child who doesn't understand how much they've done for me. Both of them reiterated (screamed / shouted) that they're tired of me being depressed, tired of me feeling sorry for myself, tired of my selfishness...
I've barely spoken to either of them since.
There have been a few awkward, strained conversations.
But it seems that there may not be any way to repair what has been damaged.
So this year, there will be no holidays, no board games, no meals with family.
Just me.
Trying to live.
It might be that way for a long time, I'm afraid.
Fortunately, this Hozac ad makes me smile every time I see it.
Need to get some Hozac for myself, as soon as possible.