LJ Idol X.7: Digging in the Past
"You do not talk about your family or your childhood much." My therapist made the observation mildly, but something about her tone caught my attention and I looked at her thoughtfully.
"No," I agreed. "I do not."
"Do you know why that is?"
"I've made my peace with the past," I answered as honestly as I could. "My family wasn't perfect. No one is. They tried, though, and they love me. I just can't... If you dig in the past, all you get is dirty."
There it was. My philosophy about "Moving On" (tm) all wrapped in a nice little bow.
Oh, how wrong I was.
*****
"You're just like your mother." My father's assessment was detached and especially cruel for that reason. "You're just a total bitch to live with." I was fourteen and my very broken and very damaged father was telling me that I would be better off staying single.
"Oh," I thought. "I wonder what's wrong with me?"
*****
"Bewize Family Women do not marry." My grandfather's pronouncement felt like a premonition, a curse. He had spoken and it was going to be that way, whether I liked it or not.
"Oh well," I thought. "I'd better be happy on my own, then." I was nine.
*****
"Our marriage didn't work because we had children." My mom explained, weary and defeated and so very worn down by life that she was handing her seven year old daughter her burden, so that she wouldn't have to carry it.
"Oh," I thought. "It really is my fault."
*****
"I can't handle this anymore!" My mother was screaming at my father in the hallway. "You're not doing anything to help us! You're just fucking us over." The sound of a hand meeting flesh was quickly followed by another slap.
"Oh," I thought, hiding my five year old head under the pillow. "I hope they stop."
*****
"Are you happy?" My boyfriend asked me the other night, as I lay cuddled against him in the bed.
"Yes," I mumbled sleepily.
"Are you ready to get married yet?"
I froze, bile rising in my throat. It's not him. I hope he believes me, but no, I'm not ready. I don't think I will ever be ready.
"Is it a deal breaker?" I asked, like I always do.
He yawned. "No." Then he kissed me.
("You'll be a terrible wife," my mother's voice echoes from more than 20 years ago. My sixteen year old self rejected marriage for all new reasons that day. My mother was miserable, with her third husband. My father was miserable with his third wife. If everyone just gets married thinking that they'll change each other, why get married?)
"I'm happy," he said.
"Please don't rock the boat," I whispered and he pulled me closer and petted my hair. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
*****
"Those were completely inappropriate things for them to say to you." My therapist sounded outraged. And I cried. I cried tears for the five year old who couldn't be good enough to make it all better. I cried tears for the seven year old who carried a burden that never belonged to her for way too long. I cried tears for the nine year old who knew how it felt to stare into the future and feel lonely. I cried tears for the fourteen year old who didn't have enough confidence to know that her father was wrong.
But I didn't cry for the 16 year old. I rejoiced for her. I rejoiced that she drew a line in the sand that day that kept her and all future hers safe.
"Am I bad mother?" My mom asked me not too long ago and I answered honestly.
"You did the best you could," I said. "I love you tremendously for it and I'm happy. How bad could you have been?"
*****
"The goal is to be happy," the boyfriend says, anytime he is asked. It's a good goal.
I think I'll adopt it as my guiding star. It's a lot better than where I've been.
This entry was written for therealljidol 10.7: “Where I’m From." There may be voting; if so, I will link to the poll.
"No," I agreed. "I do not."
"Do you know why that is?"
"I've made my peace with the past," I answered as honestly as I could. "My family wasn't perfect. No one is. They tried, though, and they love me. I just can't... If you dig in the past, all you get is dirty."
There it was. My philosophy about "Moving On" (tm) all wrapped in a nice little bow.
Oh, how wrong I was.
*****
"You're just like your mother." My father's assessment was detached and especially cruel for that reason. "You're just a total bitch to live with." I was fourteen and my very broken and very damaged father was telling me that I would be better off staying single.
"Oh," I thought. "I wonder what's wrong with me?"
*****
"Bewize Family Women do not marry." My grandfather's pronouncement felt like a premonition, a curse. He had spoken and it was going to be that way, whether I liked it or not.
"Oh well," I thought. "I'd better be happy on my own, then." I was nine.
*****
"Our marriage didn't work because we had children." My mom explained, weary and defeated and so very worn down by life that she was handing her seven year old daughter her burden, so that she wouldn't have to carry it.
"Oh," I thought. "It really is my fault."
*****
"I can't handle this anymore!" My mother was screaming at my father in the hallway. "You're not doing anything to help us! You're just fucking us over." The sound of a hand meeting flesh was quickly followed by another slap.
"Oh," I thought, hiding my five year old head under the pillow. "I hope they stop."
*****
"Are you happy?" My boyfriend asked me the other night, as I lay cuddled against him in the bed.
"Yes," I mumbled sleepily.
"Are you ready to get married yet?"
I froze, bile rising in my throat. It's not him. I hope he believes me, but no, I'm not ready. I don't think I will ever be ready.
"Is it a deal breaker?" I asked, like I always do.
He yawned. "No." Then he kissed me.
("You'll be a terrible wife," my mother's voice echoes from more than 20 years ago. My sixteen year old self rejected marriage for all new reasons that day. My mother was miserable, with her third husband. My father was miserable with his third wife. If everyone just gets married thinking that they'll change each other, why get married?)
"I'm happy," he said.
"Please don't rock the boat," I whispered and he pulled me closer and petted my hair. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
*****
"Those were completely inappropriate things for them to say to you." My therapist sounded outraged. And I cried. I cried tears for the five year old who couldn't be good enough to make it all better. I cried tears for the seven year old who carried a burden that never belonged to her for way too long. I cried tears for the nine year old who knew how it felt to stare into the future and feel lonely. I cried tears for the fourteen year old who didn't have enough confidence to know that her father was wrong.
But I didn't cry for the 16 year old. I rejoiced for her. I rejoiced that she drew a line in the sand that day that kept her and all future hers safe.
"Am I bad mother?" My mom asked me not too long ago and I answered honestly.
"You did the best you could," I said. "I love you tremendously for it and I'm happy. How bad could you have been?"
*****
"The goal is to be happy," the boyfriend says, anytime he is asked. It's a good goal.
I think I'll adopt it as my guiding star. It's a lot better than where I've been.
This entry was written for therealljidol 10.7: “Where I’m From." There may be voting; if so, I will link to the poll.