There have been points in my life were I feel like I'm a outsider in my own family. I sit back and watch the way my Children and my Husband interact and feel like there is this great wall that keeps me from being part of it. Even when I do try I just can't surmount the gap that keeps them and I apart.
Tonight was one of those times. I watched as they played and when I tried to join in I was rebuffed for my attempt. I understand why logically, but when a child of 18 who you taught to RP tell you to stop meda gaming it really hurts.
I then backed off and removed myself from the game feeling hurt and unsupported by my Husband who was the GM because we had discussed this plot point and when my son made the comment My husband didn't intervene and tell him that this was a plot point that we had already discussed. Instead he just let it happen and continued on with the scene as if nothing had happened. So then latter when my son interjected a npc into the game out of nowhere and the scene was played out with the npc, I lost my temper.
The whole night anything I tried to do was ignored or pushed to the side, so by the time this all happened I as already feeling as if I was a non player.
See, what makes this really hurt is that I have very little interaction outside of our home, Partly my own fault partly economics, and partly my nature,(I'm not very good at making new friends, its scary and makes me very uneasy) So my life as it is has been built around the few friends I do have and my Family. So when one of those two very small groups seems to not need me I get very sad, and lash out with the hurt I'm feeling.
This makes the wall I feel seem that much thicker and my feel of isolationism even worse. I tried to explain to my husband how and why I was feeling what I was feeling and how his silents ( his way of trying to avoid an argument as he put it) just made it worse since it felt to me as if he was agreeing with what had been said.
I then tried to explain to both of the children why I had exploded and again felt as if my words were failing me. As if I was a true outsider in my own family. I know they feel bad that they inadvertently hurt me, but that they really don't get what they did in the first place. The 3 have such a wonderful rep-or and have built it up even stronger over the last year by RPing in an out of home game that I am not involved in. That I deliberately did not join since it was suppose to be my daughters game with some friends. Then My husband who was driving her to and from the game joined and about 9 months ago our son then joined. So they have their little gaming group without me, and they each have other activities that I am not part of nor do I choose to be part of since this is something for them that I don't feel i have a right or a place to be part of.
And what do I have, nothing. My best friend moved away, and I no longer work and the couple of things I have tried to get involved in have for the most part fizzled. I'm hoping that once we move I will meet some new people and maybe make some new friends, but that is something for the future and is not something that can help the situation at hand or how i feel right now.
That is why I am writing this all down here in my blog. I need to vent to let the hurt out and to feel falsely perhaps that someone is reading this and knows how I feel. How very alone and isolated life can sometimes be, and how very old it can make you feel.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Thoughts and Not So Common Sense: The Slippery Slope Down
Thoughts and Not So Common Sense: The Slippery Slope Down: After 2 weeks of insane ups and downs things are finally slowing down to the wait and see crawl. Everything with the house that we are buyin...
The Slippery Slope Down
After 2 weeks of insane ups and downs things are finally slowing down to the wait and see crawl. Everything with the house that we are buying is yet again up in the air. We were suppose to close originally June 24th. Then we learned that there was a small problem with the title, but that it would be cleared up relatively quickly and that the banks Lawyer should have the corrected title to our Lawyer around the 4th of July. So we rescheduled the closing for today. Well now that's not happening. Our Lawyer still doesn't have the title and we have no idea why. The Banks Lawyer doesn't seem willing to let us know what the problem is, but if we can't close in the next week or so we can'r move at the end of the month as planned. This means having to inform our management company that we need another month, paying another months rent that we had already budgeted elsewhere, and reschedule movers, truck and all.
So right now we are living in a disaster zone with boxes everywhere, making it hard to clean. and no idea when this is going to change. We had wanted a month to get some small problems with the house fixed and do the painting. So now if we do close in the next we I will only have one week to see to all the things I needed to. Like switching all the utilities, painting, fixing some non-working electrical outlets, repairing a damaged roof vent that a raccoon ripped open, and a sump pump line that the maintenance crew ran over when mowing the grass the tried to move out of the way resulting in them shattering the pvc line that runs along the east wall of the house. Oh and did I mention that these last two the real-estate companies maintenance team where suppose to fix before closing and still haven't.
Property Virgins, and House hunters make it look so much simpler. Like the search is the hard part and that everything else after that is a piece of cake. And I guess for most people it is. It just seems like anything that can go wrong with us buying a house has, and I'm really getting tired of it. I just want it to be done and for us to be in our new home.
Please anyone with any extra positive energy to spare, prayers, what ever that can help resolve this situation in a positive manor, please send it our way. I've run out of positive and find myself on the slippery slope of a depression setting in.
So right now we are living in a disaster zone with boxes everywhere, making it hard to clean. and no idea when this is going to change. We had wanted a month to get some small problems with the house fixed and do the painting. So now if we do close in the next we I will only have one week to see to all the things I needed to. Like switching all the utilities, painting, fixing some non-working electrical outlets, repairing a damaged roof vent that a raccoon ripped open, and a sump pump line that the maintenance crew ran over when mowing the grass the tried to move out of the way resulting in them shattering the pvc line that runs along the east wall of the house. Oh and did I mention that these last two the real-estate companies maintenance team where suppose to fix before closing and still haven't.
Property Virgins, and House hunters make it look so much simpler. Like the search is the hard part and that everything else after that is a piece of cake. And I guess for most people it is. It just seems like anything that can go wrong with us buying a house has, and I'm really getting tired of it. I just want it to be done and for us to be in our new home.
Please anyone with any extra positive energy to spare, prayers, what ever that can help resolve this situation in a positive manor, please send it our way. I've run out of positive and find myself on the slippery slope of a depression setting in.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Putting the Past Where it Belongs.
A little over a week ago My Father past away. I cried for a couple of days, but my tiers where not for his loss as much as they were a release of all the pain, anger, regret, and remorse that had built up in my 55 years as his Daughter. You see, even though I loved my Father, because he was the man who helped to give me life, I didn't much like the man. In short he was not a very good father or a very good Human for that matter.
For the first 16 years of my life he put me through a gauntlet of Sexual, physical, mental, and emotional abuse. Most of this ended when he fleet to Texas to get out of paying child support, leaving my Mother to support 6 children on a nurses aids salary. You see my Father had no real idea what love was or how to properly express it. To him love/sex/enjoyment/and pleasure were all mixed together. So for Him having multiple Mistresses, sexually abusing children of any age and any gender, and in general pleasuring himself in whatever way opportunity placed in his path was his way of feeling love.
At 12 when I got my first period the realization of the possible consequences of my Fathers continued sexual use of me hit me like a brick i mustard up the courage and told my Mother what my Father had been doing to me. The memory of standing in-front of a Christmas cardboard fireplace in a darkened living room after My Father had left for work telling my Mother how for as long as I could remember my Father had sexually molested and raped me is one that will be with me forever. I remember her tears, how she kept apologizing and saying that she couldn't believe she had not see it. Not that she didn't believe me, but that she had through fear and her love for him turned a blind eye to what was happening under her own roof. I remember hearing the yelling the next night as she confronted him and told him that unless he wanted to end up in jail he would never lay another hand on me in that manure. And I remember how he retaliated for my telling by turning his abuse physical, even more so then it had been in my younger years.
It turned into a slap, a punch, an elbow to the ribs, a kick, a whatever he could get away with when he was upset, or angry and had no-one to stop him or to talk the hit for me. For 2 more years I put up with this till I finally couldn't take it anymore and wrote my Mother a long letter telling her in short that it was either Me or Him. That I could no longer live in a house where I didn't know what was coming next. I had already tried 3 times to Kill my Father, missing his head with a butcher knife that in bedded its shelve over an inch deep in the wall next to him as he sat belittling me wile I hand washed the evenings dishes. My older Brother stopped me the second time, taking the scissors from my grasp as I stood over my Father as he slept on the family coach ready to plunge them into his heart. And the Third time I can't even remember, My Mother told me I was screaming and chasing My Father with knife held high. That she grabbed me as I came past her stopping me as I collapsed to the floor in tears, and that she informed my Father that the only reason she spot me was because she didn't want to see her little girl wind up in jail.
So after my letter she filed for divorce. Somehow the Lawyer who was representing both of my parents convinced her that my Father needed to remain in the how until the divorce was final, so for one more year i dealt with his abuse as well as the scorn of my younger sibling who my Father had told that his and Mommies divorce was all Sissies fault.
Just before the divorce was final he moved out quit his job and took one that paid a fraction of what he had been making and moved in with the woman who had been my Mothers best friend for years and turn out to be my Fathers latest Mistress. A little over a year later they both fled to Texas, she to had gotten divorced and ha lost custody of her 3 children resulting in her having to pay child support as well.
I know that this all sounds so matter of fact, but it isn't. It hard to look back at all the pain he inflicted and not let the anger get the better of me. To not regal you all with the countless stories or to let the details come spilling out. For me its easier this way to let the after math be the testimony of my pain then the details of the abuse itself.
I spent many years in therapy to deal with alcohol and drug abuse as well as a multiple personality disorder. My ways of cooping with what I had been through. My Family were not aware of the extent of my pain or the damage I have had to recover from. yes they knew of my drinking, but not the MBD. that was my secret that i only shared with my Husband til now. He has been my strong shoulder that helped me pull all the pieces of me back together. That made me feel loved and secure enough to not hide in a closet when I felt overwhelmed, or to scream and hide under my bed when a shaft of light hit the wall at night in my bedroom. He is the one who got me to believe that I could have a daughter and that she would be safe. And that the word family meant a safe happy place where you could be you without fear or pain. For all these thing and many, many more I Love and thank him
And now that My Father is Dead and gone I can let go of all those ghosts that haunted my life and kept the pain alive. I don't care what others think of what I have put into tangible words for all to read, it was my pain I'm dealing with, now they need to either ignore or deal with their own as they see fit, but for me this is my way of letting it all go.
For the first 16 years of my life he put me through a gauntlet of Sexual, physical, mental, and emotional abuse. Most of this ended when he fleet to Texas to get out of paying child support, leaving my Mother to support 6 children on a nurses aids salary. You see my Father had no real idea what love was or how to properly express it. To him love/sex/enjoyment/and pleasure were all mixed together. So for Him having multiple Mistresses, sexually abusing children of any age and any gender, and in general pleasuring himself in whatever way opportunity placed in his path was his way of feeling love.
At 12 when I got my first period the realization of the possible consequences of my Fathers continued sexual use of me hit me like a brick i mustard up the courage and told my Mother what my Father had been doing to me. The memory of standing in-front of a Christmas cardboard fireplace in a darkened living room after My Father had left for work telling my Mother how for as long as I could remember my Father had sexually molested and raped me is one that will be with me forever. I remember her tears, how she kept apologizing and saying that she couldn't believe she had not see it. Not that she didn't believe me, but that she had through fear and her love for him turned a blind eye to what was happening under her own roof. I remember hearing the yelling the next night as she confronted him and told him that unless he wanted to end up in jail he would never lay another hand on me in that manure. And I remember how he retaliated for my telling by turning his abuse physical, even more so then it had been in my younger years.
It turned into a slap, a punch, an elbow to the ribs, a kick, a whatever he could get away with when he was upset, or angry and had no-one to stop him or to talk the hit for me. For 2 more years I put up with this till I finally couldn't take it anymore and wrote my Mother a long letter telling her in short that it was either Me or Him. That I could no longer live in a house where I didn't know what was coming next. I had already tried 3 times to Kill my Father, missing his head with a butcher knife that in bedded its shelve over an inch deep in the wall next to him as he sat belittling me wile I hand washed the evenings dishes. My older Brother stopped me the second time, taking the scissors from my grasp as I stood over my Father as he slept on the family coach ready to plunge them into his heart. And the Third time I can't even remember, My Mother told me I was screaming and chasing My Father with knife held high. That she grabbed me as I came past her stopping me as I collapsed to the floor in tears, and that she informed my Father that the only reason she spot me was because she didn't want to see her little girl wind up in jail.
So after my letter she filed for divorce. Somehow the Lawyer who was representing both of my parents convinced her that my Father needed to remain in the how until the divorce was final, so for one more year i dealt with his abuse as well as the scorn of my younger sibling who my Father had told that his and Mommies divorce was all Sissies fault.
Just before the divorce was final he moved out quit his job and took one that paid a fraction of what he had been making and moved in with the woman who had been my Mothers best friend for years and turn out to be my Fathers latest Mistress. A little over a year later they both fled to Texas, she to had gotten divorced and ha lost custody of her 3 children resulting in her having to pay child support as well.
I know that this all sounds so matter of fact, but it isn't. It hard to look back at all the pain he inflicted and not let the anger get the better of me. To not regal you all with the countless stories or to let the details come spilling out. For me its easier this way to let the after math be the testimony of my pain then the details of the abuse itself.
I spent many years in therapy to deal with alcohol and drug abuse as well as a multiple personality disorder. My ways of cooping with what I had been through. My Family were not aware of the extent of my pain or the damage I have had to recover from. yes they knew of my drinking, but not the MBD. that was my secret that i only shared with my Husband til now. He has been my strong shoulder that helped me pull all the pieces of me back together. That made me feel loved and secure enough to not hide in a closet when I felt overwhelmed, or to scream and hide under my bed when a shaft of light hit the wall at night in my bedroom. He is the one who got me to believe that I could have a daughter and that she would be safe. And that the word family meant a safe happy place where you could be you without fear or pain. For all these thing and many, many more I Love and thank him
And now that My Father is Dead and gone I can let go of all those ghosts that haunted my life and kept the pain alive. I don't care what others think of what I have put into tangible words for all to read, it was my pain I'm dealing with, now they need to either ignore or deal with their own as they see fit, but for me this is my way of letting it all go.
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