I've always had difficulties trusting in any relationship i've ever had. Maybe its because my birth parents didn't give me up for adoption like they probably should have. Maybe i would have had a normal, adjusted view of the world if the two people (or even just one) who were supposed to love me unconditionally actually did. Instead, my sperm doner exited stage right and promptly gave me up to my step father, legally and in spirit. Not such a loss, but still.
Then, my "mother" "raised" me by constantly pushing me away unless I served a purpose. At age 16 i was more of a reminder than a daughter so out the door she shoved me, and locked it tightly behind me. At least my sperm doner had the good grace to accept that he wanted nothing to do with me. She couldn't bare for people to think badly of her, so she told everyone i ran away.
Laughable. Really. Especially when the police had to accompany the social worker and I to the house to get my meager belongings. She stayed upstairs knowing i was packing up what little she had left me, after rummaging through my belongings and taking what she wanted. Pictures? Things that would remind her of me? No. Curling irons, bedspreads, clothing that fit her. You know, things she could use. At the time, i wasn't one of them.
It still brings me pain in my chest to remember the letters i wrote to her, my mother, asking to be able to return home. Her one time response being that she "wasn't ready" for me to be in her life. Like i did something to her.........like being born.
Do i need to go through and "unpack the baggage" ? No. I've done it over and over and over again until the feeling became so well worn that it's see through. She did her damage in the short 16 years she had me with her. My trust in people had been taken away from the one person who should have been the only one i could trust explicitly.
I'm not the only one. My generation apparently began the throwing away of children fad. When i see what goes on in the news i totally understand how we got here. I understand. I wasn't beaten, or sexually abused. I was ignored. Neglected. Thrown away and forgotten. There was no one to report this abuse to.......because in comparison it's really not comparable. But it does leave scars.
I went along taking care of me, hating, healing and growing as best i could. There were people who were there for me, but never without a personal agenda of some kind. Never unconditional. Never NOT contingent on an expected outcome. I stopped talking about it. I stopped thinking about it. I moved on.
Then i had children and all the wounds re-opened. How could a mother not know where her child was or if he or she was okay? The love and possession i felt of my babies completely knocked me to my knees. It also blared out in all the colors "YOU were never loved like this". And yet, as much as i felt I apparently made the same mistakes my own mother did. Do the exact opposite was the way i raised my children. Because my mothers way hurt and damaged and left me handicapped emotionally. I've always been extreme. This way or that. Black or white. It doesn't work that way. Guidance, temperance, instinct, those are a parents tools. My toolbox was empty. No-one ever filled it. I believed the opposite of empty was full. I was wrong.
My whole life has been a search for that love. It's crazy and it's a tired subject (tired feeling) in my bones. "get over it" is my least favorite saying because it's easy for someone who has had at least ONE person love them because they were worthy of being loved. Not because they were needed, just because they existed.
So I learned quickly that it was love that needed to be earned. Not respect. Not independence or self confidence. Not even self love. I needed to be needed in order to be loved. This is more common in people than you lucky people know. I'd go so far as to say that it is MORE common when i see all the wounded over achievers.
Again i've been accused of sharing too much on THE INTERNET. Like it's really so very important to anyone but me and the the people i'm referring to. Again, I don't much care. Because there are so many people who share my experience of never being able to trust that feeling of joy, or love, or acceptance......of never being able to relax and not feel the need to serve a purpose in someones life to hold a space there.......thats who this blog is for. And for me. ME.
When someone suggests I say too much I instantly know they don't understand and they are ashamed of whatever feelings are brought to the surface. Yet, they still read on. Judging, self righteous, better than me. But guess what? Not everyone.
I bring this up because it's risen again, this feeling of not being what i'm supposed to be to someone else in order to keep their love. It feels too big to wear. I've outgrown it. If at this point in my life i haven't earned the love and affection of people that i love.........then what more can i do about it. No amount of jumping through hoops, or behaving in certain ways is going to earn that love.
It's okay for me to love and accept the way someone else loves me, just as it is. The circus act or playing blind isn't happening anymore. I am worthy, just as I am. I have love to give, not force. My love can be quiet in the background and still be no less.
Then, my "mother" "raised" me by constantly pushing me away unless I served a purpose. At age 16 i was more of a reminder than a daughter so out the door she shoved me, and locked it tightly behind me. At least my sperm doner had the good grace to accept that he wanted nothing to do with me. She couldn't bare for people to think badly of her, so she told everyone i ran away.
Laughable. Really. Especially when the police had to accompany the social worker and I to the house to get my meager belongings. She stayed upstairs knowing i was packing up what little she had left me, after rummaging through my belongings and taking what she wanted. Pictures? Things that would remind her of me? No. Curling irons, bedspreads, clothing that fit her. You know, things she could use. At the time, i wasn't one of them.
It still brings me pain in my chest to remember the letters i wrote to her, my mother, asking to be able to return home. Her one time response being that she "wasn't ready" for me to be in her life. Like i did something to her.........like being born.
Do i need to go through and "unpack the baggage" ? No. I've done it over and over and over again until the feeling became so well worn that it's see through. She did her damage in the short 16 years she had me with her. My trust in people had been taken away from the one person who should have been the only one i could trust explicitly.
I'm not the only one. My generation apparently began the throwing away of children fad. When i see what goes on in the news i totally understand how we got here. I understand. I wasn't beaten, or sexually abused. I was ignored. Neglected. Thrown away and forgotten. There was no one to report this abuse to.......because in comparison it's really not comparable. But it does leave scars.
I went along taking care of me, hating, healing and growing as best i could. There were people who were there for me, but never without a personal agenda of some kind. Never unconditional. Never NOT contingent on an expected outcome. I stopped talking about it. I stopped thinking about it. I moved on.
Then i had children and all the wounds re-opened. How could a mother not know where her child was or if he or she was okay? The love and possession i felt of my babies completely knocked me to my knees. It also blared out in all the colors "YOU were never loved like this". And yet, as much as i felt I apparently made the same mistakes my own mother did. Do the exact opposite was the way i raised my children. Because my mothers way hurt and damaged and left me handicapped emotionally. I've always been extreme. This way or that. Black or white. It doesn't work that way. Guidance, temperance, instinct, those are a parents tools. My toolbox was empty. No-one ever filled it. I believed the opposite of empty was full. I was wrong.
My whole life has been a search for that love. It's crazy and it's a tired subject (tired feeling) in my bones. "get over it" is my least favorite saying because it's easy for someone who has had at least ONE person love them because they were worthy of being loved. Not because they were needed, just because they existed.
So I learned quickly that it was love that needed to be earned. Not respect. Not independence or self confidence. Not even self love. I needed to be needed in order to be loved. This is more common in people than you lucky people know. I'd go so far as to say that it is MORE common when i see all the wounded over achievers.
Again i've been accused of sharing too much on THE INTERNET. Like it's really so very important to anyone but me and the the people i'm referring to. Again, I don't much care. Because there are so many people who share my experience of never being able to trust that feeling of joy, or love, or acceptance......of never being able to relax and not feel the need to serve a purpose in someones life to hold a space there.......thats who this blog is for. And for me. ME.
When someone suggests I say too much I instantly know they don't understand and they are ashamed of whatever feelings are brought to the surface. Yet, they still read on. Judging, self righteous, better than me. But guess what? Not everyone.
I bring this up because it's risen again, this feeling of not being what i'm supposed to be to someone else in order to keep their love. It feels too big to wear. I've outgrown it. If at this point in my life i haven't earned the love and affection of people that i love.........then what more can i do about it. No amount of jumping through hoops, or behaving in certain ways is going to earn that love.
It's okay for me to love and accept the way someone else loves me, just as it is. The circus act or playing blind isn't happening anymore. I am worthy, just as I am. I have love to give, not force. My love can be quiet in the background and still be no less.
I never knew this... big giant hugs from me to you... Michele
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