Excellent post that I can relate to, as always, Cedar.
I was never afraid I'd hate them. I really don't have that kind of emotion in me. My hate IS hurt and pain, which makes it clear I should do what a smart scapegoat does and just move on. You know what? For a few days it bothered me that Sissy was reading my inner thoughts. I don't care anymore. She is free to read them, laugh with dysfunctional bro, scream at th e screen, get herself all out of sorts, whatever she does with her spare time is fine with me. Maybe it's good for her to read my reality, even if she doesn't believe it. I have NOT stopped posting you noticed. I am stronger than that and am not going to let someone who dislikes me and invalidates my life to change what I do. That's not me anymore. I pick myself up, wipe off the seat of my pants and move ahead.
Cedar, I know you love your family, probably as in love/hate (which is pain/anger). I can't find that love in there anymore. Maybe the pain/anger is too fresh. Maybe there is love in there for these people somewhere in the back of my mind. I loved them both so much at one time. I thought they were smart enough to "get" that I did have a mental illness, which can override the medications if I am under unbearable pressure. (Haha, what's their excuse?) But at any rate, it now has a diagnosed name...borderline, by Dr. Sis and Dr. Bro. I would love to find that love again and hope that years and years of never seeing them will at least bring back the great memories of playing hockey with my little bro in his room because we were both school outcasts. I hope I can once again remember playing "rate the record" with him. We were each other's best friend. We had nights when he'd come in from NJ when we were out at restaurants just talking and laughing about our lives until 1am or later. I want to remember that about him because they were good times and I'm not sure where they went.
I want to remember the times with my sister that were hilarious, in between her ten or more cut offs. We did have similar senses of humor and I tried to be there for her until I couldn't and I think at times she even tried to be there for me but she couldn't. We did not have all horrible times either. I want to smile at the time when she thought she wasn't pretty (she is a knockout) and I brought her to my place of work just because there were so many young boys there and I was already married...of course they all fell for her and thought she was pretty and that was a good, warm memory.
My mother was the elephant in the room. Once she decided I didn't like my brother enough (long story, can't put it down here) she REALLY got her claws out. I actually did like my brother that much, but her incessant favoritism of him got on my nerves and I said something about him and the fight was on (her fight). After that it was never the same between me and mother. It went from bad and bad to horrible and traumatic. No, it is not a made up story. It may be one that only I remember because it was a phone call. Nobody else knew.
My mother has been dead so long. I still can't find the love, but I do remember the few times she was proud of me for a good drama or singing performance or a writing award. But most of my memories, after all these years, are still her yelling horrible things at and about me and expecting me to give my grandmother's small inheritance ONLY to my biological son and hurt my other two kids. Divide and conquer. As much as I loved my grandmother, she did it with her own two kids and my mom was jealous of her brother. Now she was going to try to do it to my three kids and I would not participate. THAT is what got my mother so angry...that I refused to do it...that she basically never forgave me. Isn't that twisted?
Although she did not get along that well with her mother and was angry at her for favoring her son and then me next, my mother still had this fear of of her mother and, even after she died, she felt her mother's wishes had to be carried out, even if they were cruel wishes. My grandmother was sending a message to my adopted kids that they were not her blood and she loved Bart the most. She even told that to Bart and he was very uncomfortable hearing it. I was not about to be given money, no matter how little, that came from all three of my children's great-grandmother and only give it to Bart. And I don't do things in secret. And we spoke to Bart about it and even Bart agreed. He still does to this day.
So after all this time, although I feel we will meet again, I can not find the love.
I hope I can find the love I once had for my other siblings. With both of them my love was so deep. I especially had an affinity for my brother who had the same social problems I did.
Cedar, do you find yourself doing kind things for others that non-scapegoats would feel scornful about? Do you help homeless people? Do you offer a meal? Do you ever help children who are obviously in distress (we adopted them). Did you ever help stray animals, hurt animals and nurse them back to health and trust? Do you find that you run to pick things up for others who drop things? I do this all the time and I know it's because you develop a certain compassion and caring for others when you are treated like dirt. You just have this uncanny urge to want to help others be better.
Well, that felt good for my soul and reading your posts is always so healing too. I hope I can help you as much as you help me.
My husband is home and I want to spend time with him. We are so blessed to have our husbands, aren't we? There are so many terrible relationships out there.
