When I was about three, my parents split up. We initially lived with my mother. Everyone told me: don’t cry; be a big girl; Mom is just sleeping
so be quiet; help with your brother; don’t be loud; settle down; stop wanting
attention. For me the list goes on and
on of the things I remember being said and the feelings surrounding them.
My dad got remarried and it was decided we would go live
with him and his wife because it was better to be in a two person
household. That is what we were
told. I remember packing up and crying
and being told not to cry because my Mom couldn’t handle it and my new step-mom
wouldn’t like it, she would think I didn’t like her. I remember begging for her attention. She played with my brother, held him, feed
him. I just wanted that. I wanted to not be invisible.
What I didn’t know then but know now is that my Dad was not
my biological father. He met my mom when
she was four months pregnant and he married her anyway. For a long time, I tried to see this as a
positive – hey I was not invisible. I
was loved. Then somewhere, somehow or
something made me believe that I was loved before I was born but not so much
after. I realized that another man out
there was my father and he knew it and never tried to make contact, check on me
or anything. Again, I was invisible.
My dad died the summer before my sophomore year of high
school and I once again became invisible except when I cried; was too loud;
complained; wanted attention.
I will say with all honesty that there were many people in
my life who did NOT treat me this way, they did all they could. The pattern was laid, the voices were in my
head, the feelings were there and so no matter how good I felt from them, it
never lasted long.
When I met my ex-husband it appeared he pulled me out of a
crowd. I wasn’t invisible. We spent every day and night together from
April 9, 1989 until August of 1989. His
family didn’t seem to care for me and if some snide comment wasn’t being made,
I was being ignored. He moved and
without being asked, I moved too. At the
time, he was the only person who made me feel worthwhile and not
invisible. However, the pattern started
again. He would go out with friends; he
would stay late at work when I had made dinner or plans to talk to his family
(no cell phones); he would tell me to stay while he went; when I went, his
brothers and sisters were not nice to me; we did what they wanted; they got to
say what they wanted and I wasn’t invisible but my feelings and emotions
were. When I let them out, I was
wrong. I was over-emotional; I did not
understand; I made it all about me; I was reminded that I would get over it
easy but they would hold it over my head or his head for years to come.
I won’t go into every aspect of my marriage but as I sit
here today, I keep trying to look for defining moments in my life and marriage
that lead me to where I am today.
Problem is that when I do that it seems like blame and not
acknowledgment. I remember once going to
a therapist and she wanted me to lay out my family tree. It took 3 poster boards and her response was
“wow that is fucked up”. Literally. I never went back.
One thing I have picked up on is my low self-worth and poor
treatment is my own doing. Mine. Others didn’t do it to me but I allowed
it. Even at age three. I’m the blame. I didn’t seek out; I didn’t do and I didn’t
do better. I put on the brave face, I
fought, I screamed, I yelled, I cried, I taught everyone around me to stick up
for themselves, I championed for everyone but me because at every turn when I
tried to champion for myself I would hear a word that would spiral me into
trouble. So it was easier to champion
for everyone else, for every cause, for every event, than it was to champion
for me. It still is.
About a year ago I wrote a list of how I felt - one word
descriptors of my feelings about myself.
My now ex-husband took it personally, whether by design, excuse or
because he really felt it was his fault.
I tried explaining – even up until three weeks ago – that that was MY
list of how I felt. Again, I walked away
feeling invisible; worthless and wrong.
I saw and to a certain extent still see my self-worth by
other people’s standards. What does my
step-mom think of me; what did my husband think of me; what does my now
ex-husband think of me; what did my kids think of me; what do they all think of
me now? I somehow believe that my
self-worth is tied to what others think or want from me.
Research, therapy and friends tell me that I am the only one
who can give that kind of power to someone else. That I, consciously or not, choose to
believe…
I want to scream “how can that be right and it is not
fair!”, but it is true. Several people
who really care about me keep telling me to try and stop caring what others
think, to be myself and be true to myself.
How? How do you do that? How do you do that in a positive constructive
way? How do you undo 47 years worth of
not knowing your own value?
My Dad is deceased.
My birth mother is deceased. My
step-mom doesn’t talk to me. My husband
divorced me. My in-law family of 24.8
years has nothing to do with me. My kids
are holding on by a thread to talk to me.
The people who have stuck it out are struggling and don’t know what to
do with me and my straight talking therapist best advice this week is I have to
work to get my shit together. It wasn’t
said mean but as a reality check.
So how do I practice self-control? Self-love?
Kindness to myself? How do I grasp the sandpaper to smooth out the scars
on my soul I created or allowed to be created?
My first step: There is nothing
wrong with ME…I will do the best that I can…I will do something every day to
love myself and all the people in my life.
Wish me luck, I have stepped back from the ledge and WILL
will myself to be who God meant me to be.
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