Secrets and Lies Part I

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Day one on Planet Earth. Happy Birth Day. A day to be legally falsified, shrouded in lies and secrets. The record I produce for my entire life will bear this tale. My own genetic history kept a mystery. Something I was not entitled to thanks to the mistakes, insecurities and decisions of everyone but me. It took me thirty six guilt laden years before I permitted myself to feel deserving enough and to put my needs before those who were supposed to put mine first.

 

Eggshells

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I am that person who is non-confrontational. Sure, I let off steam and vent alot. But when it comes to actual communication and confronting the issues and situations that need to be addressed with people, I cower like the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz.

This stems from constantly being put down as a child and always being made to feel like I was wrong. My parents never admitted they were wrong and never apologized to me. EVER! They still haven’t. And I am going to be 39 in 1 day and they are 73. The best apology I ever get from them is,”I’m sorry you feel that way.” Never an admission of guilt. So I have always bourn the burden of feeling as though I am the loser in every argument. This carried in to my adulthood and has become a complex.

Due to my insecurities and conversely competitive nature, I started avoiding arguments and tough conversations at all costs the older I get. When I was younger I would avoid them with my parents so I wouldn’t get in trouble. As an adult, I avoid them so that my PTSD isn’t triggered and so that I don’t constantly feel inferior, as though I am always in a losing battle. I am a very sensitive person, so whenever my intense emotions are triggered by conflict, my gut instinct and reaction is to cry. This automatically is seen as a sign of weakness which has probably marketed me to friends and partners as easy prey. Add to that my own inner desire to avoid the conflict in the first place, need to people please, constant apologetic attitude, and desire to always work on my self, I am a recipe for disaster.

And so, I suck down all my feelings whenever I am at war with myself over something that is eating away at me over a controversial issue within any given relationship. I fester, and then often explode with emotions at the most inopportune moments. I am often made to feel as if I am in charge of everyone’s feelings. And if I confront someone during one of their 356 bad days out of the year, then I am this horrific person who can’t even hold out when I knew they were having a rough time. Yet NO ONE grants me this. Nor do I ever ask them to tip toe around me or walk on eggshells. I am so tired of feeling like I have to bottle up everything and keep my mouth shut and stay a prisoner in my own head just to maintain everyone else’s sanity. I am on the brink of insanity myself and no one seems to give a damn. All I hear are constant comparisons about how I don’t know what their life is like, I’ll never understand, their situations are so much worse then mine. I’m sick of no one recognizing the pain I am in and the turmoil I have gone through in my life. And the continued stifling of myself and sacrificing of myself that I do for everyone else’s sake. I am tired of everyone only ever seeing their own perspective and never slowing down for a second to consider someone else’s. Because I feel like, although I may not always be successful at this, I try very hard, and no one else even gives it a second thought. They just go on being themselves and not caring what the world thinks. There is self confidence, and there are character flaws that need to be changed when you are clearly pushing people away and angering and torturing everyone close to you. People need to get their heads out of their beehinds and look at themselves in a third person perspective for once. Because if something doesn’t change soon, I will be changing more drastically then I ever have before in my life. I already have been making some slow drastic changes. And if people around me don’t wake up and start seeing into my soul….That will be the last they will be seeing of me. The ants go marching one by one hurrah…..

Humanity Switch

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Knurd (drunk spelled backwards) is “the opposite of being drunk. It’s as sober as you can ever be. It strips away all the illusion, all the comforting pink fog in which people normally spend their lives, and lets them see and think clearly for the first time ever. Then, after they’ve screamed a bit, they make sure they never get knurd again” – Terry Pratchett

The problem with me is that, I have never spent my life in that pink fog. The only pink fog I have lived through are the rose colored glasses that I once saw the world through due to living in what I thought was a sheltered bubble. My parents sheltered me from the real world, while exposing me to so much other inner torture that many others don’t have to experience. And I live with that inner torture without the pink fog….totally “knurd”. I have never turned to drugs, nicotine or alcohol. I have lived my tortured life completely sober. The worst vice I have is food/sweets. A little bit of a spending/shopping issue. But nothing outlandish. The pain is becoming far too much to bear. I wish I could shut down, shut it off like a humanity Switch. I am an extremely sensitive person and I get hurt every step of the way. One would think I would be immune to hurt by now, but I’m not. I have begun to shut out the world. The less human relationships I have, the less I have to deal with. I wish I could live on a deserted island. Being a sensitive, feeling human being sucks. No one understands me. I have drifted further and further away from understanding and wanting to be a part of the human connection. It’s just not worth it anymore. The hurt outweighs the good for me. I wish I could find my way back, but I fear I have seen too much…

 

 

Home Base Default Setting

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Many people probably view me as someone who plays the victim role in life. As someone who is very vocal about my pain and suffering, and who often over steps boundaries in order to tell my stories, most probably perceive me as someone who is looking for sympathy. But honestly, I am quite the opposite. It helps my self esteem when people to whom I have told a part of my story, or those who have been with my on part of my journey tell me how amazing it is that I am as functional as I am. Or that I have beaten the odds. Or that people like me give those who have faced less adversity in their life no excuse to behave as poorly as they do when I have been able to rise from my ashes. It is the recognition of what I have been through, and the admiration for what I have done to pull myself through that helps me continue to rise above.

As someone who has felt constant invalidation, been doubted by so many as to the validity of my stories, and been made to feel like a crazy person; hearing from others how strong and resilient of a person I am is what I need the most to continue healing. It is when people question my truths, question the eccentricity of my emotions, question whether I make mountains out of molehills, question whether I am the drama seeker; that pulls me under.

My home base default setting is that I want to be viewed as someone who is strong BECAUSE I face my darkness head on and don’t succumb to it. My home base desire is for people to recognize me as someone who is not a negative person that resides under a grey cloud of doom because I am a negative person and want to rain on everyone’s sunshine day, but rather for people to see that I have been thrown a ton of curve balls and I am not one to ever take the easy way out by resorting to drugs or alcohol to deal with my problems or rather mask them. I face them full on and that often means having to get dirty by sliding in to home base in order to score (read: weather the storm before seeing the sun again).

via Daily Prompt: Base

Rearrange

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For the school year of 2015-2016, I rearranged my life to try and help out my daughter’s girl scout troop, particularly the one poor soul of a mom who agreed to take on being cookie mom for 3 troops as long as she had help. My daughter’s troop was the biggest troop, so I agreed to do the cookie booth portion of it, which is still a huge responsibility with the way they run cookies now. It is nothing like when I was a girl scout where everything, the door to door and cookie booth took place within a two week span. The whole charade now spans a 3 month stretch. It’s utterly ridiculous.

It also took me almost the entire school year to plan and execute this lovely brainchild of mine that did not have the outcome I desired. That was a high school band reunion. It started out as an idea I had when my 10th high school reunion rolled around and I had no desire to see my classmates but longed to see my band mates which were all of different classes. And then my 20th reunion came upon me, and I said, gosh darn it, here I am 10 years later wishing the same thing. I am going to make something happen this time. So it started out as a Facebook group of me and my friends and some of their friends. And then I made the mistake of contacting the alumni director at the school to ask if we could use the band room because someone (who didn’t even end up coming of course) had the bright idea that we should all play our instruments together and have a jam session. The alumni director then threw me in to full fledged alumni class reunion style mode and the next thing I know I have over 200 people in my Facebook group from all graduating classes dating back to the 70s (the school only opened in the 60s). Needless to say, that project became quite consuming. In the end, most of my own so called friends backed out on me and I did all that work mostly for people I didn’t know. In the meantime, I had started to act more slipshod with my work and at home, which I don’t like to give anything I do less than 100%.

During this 12 month period of the great depression, my Narcissistic Dad wreaked havoc in my life via my daughter’s First Communion. Due to the fact that he originally wanted to be the one to host the after dinner party so that he could take credit for it to my mother’s cousins who would be in from out of town and so that he had a say in the restaurant chosen, my husband and I saw right through his charade and decided that even though it would be a stretch for us to afford it, we were going to be the ones to take control of our own daughters party because we didn’t like the restaurant he was suggesting and didn’t want him dictating her events the way he has dictated mine. All because I rearranged what he had in mind and took it away from him, he played such spiteful, underhanded, unbelievable games that hurt my daughter behind the scenes and also hurt my sister in law merely because we chose to have desert back at her house and he still holds a latent grudge against her from my bridal shower from 14 years ago which resurfaced a year and a half ago. He turned my uncle, who is my daughter’s Godfather against me to the point that he didn’t even send her a card (I blasted him in an email over that one….he now sends her a birthday and Christmas card after I told him pretty much what a.horrible person he was for listening to my dad and taking it out on his Goddaughter by not coming to her Communion and not even so much as sending her a card. My dad purposely got the same gift that my sister in law got for my daughter which I specifically told my dad twice prior to the communion not to get because she wanted to specifically get her that as her godmother. And my dad got it anyway and the look on my poor sister in law’s face broke my heart when her gift ended up being a duplicate and she took hers out of the pile after my daughter opened my dad’s gift first. He did it on purpose because he’s jealous of my sister in law and doesn’t like her because of an issue from my bridal shower, which was a ridiculous issue to begin with and a made up pretentious issue of his where my sister in law did nothing wrong in the first place either. It was all my dad blowing things out of proportion. But he rearranges everything if things don’t go the way he wants them to in order to make everyone else’s life miserable and to play such horrible and deceitful mind games with everyone. He sabotages what are supposed to be happy events. He brings up ghosts of the past that have been laid to rest and spins lies to make you wonder if you’re going crazy. He tried to tell me I told him something my husband’s family said a long time ago and I stood there and verified with both my sister in law and husband present at the same time that no one in his family ever said such a thing and that was the first they’d ever heard of that, so I know I couldn’t have told my dad what he says I told him. Because if there is one thing I am superbly guilty of, it is honesty to a fault. Not that I don’t tell some white lies here and there, you know the kind I’m talking about. But when it comes to the big things about principles and such, I am the most upfront and honest person you would probably ever meet.

My life also got rearranged a bit with the news back in May or June that the birthfather that I was always told wanted nothing to do with me or my birthmother once he heard that she was pregnant was actually not even told about me until after I was given up for adoption. I had been vaguely in touch with him since about a year after my I met my birthmother. She gave me his name and told me she would rather I not contact him but I had the right to know his name and do what I wanted. She would always take my temperature on the situation and ask whether I had been in touch with him at all. I had made contact with him on Facebook and we texted a few times. We were both pretty distant and kept it to pretty factual questions. I was not about to open myself up to being hurt by someone who I thought never wanted me in the first place. At the same time he accepted my friend request on Facebook, my stepsister on his side also friend requested me. He is never on fb but she is. One day last September, she liked a post of mine and it sent my birthmother into a seething tizzy. She claimed it was because my birth stepsister was a wiccan and she doesn’t want any part of that in her life, but also said she doesn’t want any of my birthfathers side to know anything about her. It was our first real fight in 2 years. It really affected me deeply. Once the news came about 9 months later that my birthfather was never even told about me until after I was already given up for adoption and was never given the chance. He believes he would have married her in order to keep me. And honestly, his track record as compared to hers favors his story. My stepsister has also known about me since she was 10. I figured the first she was told about me was the day she friend requested me. So I was a present thought in his brain over the years. I finally met him in August. But all of this has rearranged my entire view on the chain of events and on my birthmother honesty and integrity. My birthfather is an incredibly warm and caring and loving person face to face, but he is horrible about keeping in touch via phone and text. And he lives 2 hours away. So it’s hard to maintain a relationship with him. Even my stepsister that he raised as his own daughter who lives 10 miles from him has a hard time keeping in touch with him. I am happy to have gained the knowledge and confidence that out of the 4 parents I have that one may have truly wanted me for the right reasons, even though he’s the one who I thought didn’t want anything to do with me, which had alot to do with some of my self esteem issues over the years. But now I feel a simultaneous loss at the same time. Because the one who has been there and in the right capacity is my birthmom since our reunion. But now I am having a hard time trusting her because of all of this and it’s hard to get over this betrayal of my birth story. And the one who actually makes me feel honestly loved when I’m with him, I can’t have much contact with just because of who he is and how he runs his life. I plan on seeing him again in November. Who can say that their birth story was actually rearranged in their mind at 38 years old? Usually just adoptees. Even when I thought I had it straight, that rug was pulled out from underneath me.

And so, with everyone rearranging my world for me, I have decided to be like the tiger in the picture. I am taking over the chess board of my life and I am taking control of the players in my life. I will no longer be anyone’s pawn. People need think wisely before making their next move, because I think very strategically, but I can also pounce  when least expected. My thoughts are now two steps ahead of every move that my opponents might make and how I might be able to respond. Life is a game. And I’m tired of people playing ME like a fiddle rather than me coming out as chess champion. Watch out world. You’ve met your match.

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Rearrange

Transformation: An Early Mourn Epiphany

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This morning on my way to my second interview for another job (as a self employed sub-contractor music teacher, I need several teaching jobs to make a living) that would be life changing, I heard a song come on my playlist that I had never really paid attention to the lyrics before. Or perhaps some higher power just whispered through me to tune in and connected the dots to what I am currently going through. But the lyrics to this particular song brought me to an awakening, an epiphany, an Oprah a-ha moment. It was as if I had been standing too close to a pointillistic painting all the while and I had finally stepped back and all of the dots coalesced into the full picture.

“Of These Chains”
By: Red

So here we are at the end now.

I need to leave but I only want to stay with you.

I never asked to be the one to set me free,

Another mask you wore that only I could see.

Let me take you when I go,
When I go.
I don’t want to do this on my own
On my own,
I’m breaking free, but of these chains,
Oh, let this one remain,
Let me take you when I go.

I can still feel you here now in this cage.
Every link,
Another piece of you I saved,
Afraid to open up the door to,
Who I was before,
And if I let go of these chains now,
Will I float away? Can I just hold on?

Oh, let me take you when I go,
When I go.
I don’t want to do this on my own,
On my own.
I’m breaking free, but of these chains,
Oh, let this one remain.
Let me take you when I go.

The depression I’ve been dwelling in for the past year, mainly surrounding the transformation of my relationship with my parents, has left me in defense mode. I have had to prove my adulthood to them and force them to start treating me like an adult rather than a child like they always have. With the inception of my new role, it forces me to break free of the child character I have always played for their benefit. I think I have been afraid of losing my inner child as well.
During the same time frame of my depression and changing roles with my parents, my daughter was diagnosed with Aspergers. With her Aspergers, I am unfortunately not able to joke around with her very much. She doesn’t understand my style of joking, she gets embarassed and offended easily and when we are on the same page, she takes things too far. So I have to stifle my inner child with her.
I have always worn fun colorful and sometimes character clothing. I get in to things like collecting the Disney Infinity Game Characters, I love kid like stuff. It is like I am a big kid. Probably because I had to give up a part of being an innocent child when I had to protect my parents feelings instead of being the one who was protected. I had to experience emotions and situations that should have not been shared as openly with me as they were. My parents fought all the time in front of me. Very explosively to the point that I wished they would get divorced from the time I was 7. They had no consideration for the effect it was having on me. So I’ve held on to my inner child for dear life.
Many of my peers don’t deal well when my voice gets the childlike passion and raises in volume when I get excited. I always feel judged by what I wear, though that might just be my insecurities. The place I feel I can be myself the most and that I feel the most successful and the most myself is when I’m teaching. I can joke around the way I joke and my students get my humor and think I’m funny. My students like my spunk and think I’m relatable. And that doesn’t mean I am immature just because I can relate better to teenagers. I think they love having someone who is a mentor to them and can give adult like advice like a mom, but do it in a fun manner more like a friend. I am a perfect liaison who can get through to them when they drown out the voices of reason of their mom and dad because that’s what teenagers do. They accept my inner child because it’s fun and funny to them and makes them feel at ease with me.
The “you” in the song is my inner child as I break free and transform from the chains and shackles of being treated and disrespected like an inferior child by my narcissistic and flying monkey parents. I need to find my balance. I am scared of losing my inner child, especially since I feel my inner child isn’t accepted by so many already. There are two sides to my childlike self. I want to keep one with me while I part and transform away from the other…

via Daily Prompt: Transformation