My older sister used to tell me that I was like the old punching clown. I would let people punch me and then I would bounce back up to take another punch. Funny, that same older sister, punched me big time but with her, I didn't come back.
This older sister, Jade, (name changed) was my savior when I was a little kid. She always was the one that when I got hurt, I wanted her. She left for college but only after making sure I was going to be okay. She got married and had five children. I always looked up to her, she was an amazing mom and wife. She had a son who struggled with something that I later had to deal with and she was such a support and had really great advise and I followed it. I lost my mom to dementia in about 2000 and I counted Jade as my surrogate mom. I took her advise on nursing my babies, I tried to live up to her in my parenting. I failed miserably at times, but even then, she would lift me up and help me feel good about other things that I did do right. She really was a safe place for me to fall. Then last year, I am not even sure what happened, I really don't know what I did, except be impossibly human and hurt. I am the weird one in our family of six -- I really want us to do things together and BE a family, but there are too many wounds and things that get in the way that I just don't understand because I was born so far behind everyone else. I stepped on her toes and she cut me off. It couldn't have been at a worse time -- I was so lost and so hurt and she stopped taking my calls and I haven't talked to her in over a year and a half. I miss her. I miss her kids and their kids. That was one punch I cannot recover from.
I was the youngest of six kids. From the time I was two years old, my sisters and brothers started leaving me. My oldest sister left for BYU, my oldest brother left on a mission (its funny, to this day, I don't think he remembers he has a sister named Lisa), and it went on from there. They all would head off and come home for holidays. I remember sitting in my front yard watching all day for them to drive up the street for their visits. I gloried in their times at home. It was crowded and crazy and I loved it. Then when it came time for them to leave, I would begin to withdraw. Inevitably, I would get mad at them because it was easier to have them leave if I was mad.
I have carried this into my adult life. Marty was in the military early on and he left for training and was gone for almost 8 months. Of course, there were trainings throughout the year and then came Desert Storm when he left for 6 months. Finally, I realized that he had been leaving me a lot with his addiction to pornography and when I discovered that and we had the explosion six years ago. Again, I was going to be left and I was going to strike first -- I was going to be mad because then it wouldn't hurt so badly. Luckily, we worked through it and I wasn't left.
But even when my son left for his mission, I got mad at him at the MTC for some stupid reason of not taking a picture where I wanted him to and so I was mad when he walked out of the auditorium. My youngest son left for basketball camp and I did the same thing. I have really worked on this, but it is deeply ingrained in my psyche and it has been hard to overcome.
Now, my girls, my sweet daughters who I have bounced back and up again numerous times. They know this about me and they use it to hurt. Both of my girls are so intelligent and articulate and their greatest weapon is their speech. They know how to throw darts at you with just enough truth in them to let it prick at your armor. One of the things I have worked on is to not react and not respond. They come by this talent honorably as I have used it over and over. I am painfully human and have a low threshold for pain and I respond. I am never proud of my behavior and I am willing to say I'm wrong when I do this.
I wrote on facebook after realizing that my two daughters have me completely blocked, or in words that I fear the most -- left me: Someone knows you so well and you let them in on your secrets and your fears. You think you trust them and you should because they are some of the people closest to you and then they use those words or secrets against you. Your greatest fears, the most vulnerable parts of you. And all you can do is ask why?
The hardest part of this is it has sent me sliding down a hill that has taken me a year to climb. A hill that has been loose rock with no vegetation to grab ahold of and no trail. The people who want to help you can only watch as you struggle. But when you start to slide, you can fall so much farther than where you started. Doesn't seem fair.
Well, another post of weakness. I started this blog wanting to be a beacon of success after the tears, I just seem to be in the middle way too often.
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