Thursday, July 2, 2009

I wish I was different

My mother is an evil person. My sister and I try so hard to please her, but she just doesn't care. All she ever wants to do is make us feel inadequate. Does she hate us? And she's always manipulating us so that we'll do her bidding. I'm not even exagerrating. If my life were a movie, my mother would be the villian.



I truly belive she is the reason I am so cold and guarded with people. I mean, if you can't trust your own fucking mother, who can you trust? I mean, after all these years, she's STILL abusing us even though she can't physically hit us anymore.

I think the way I am makes my husband, children, and friends sad. I love them so much, but I am, for whatever reason, unable to express it in ways they can understand. I am just not a physically demonstrative person. I CAN cuddle, but do I feel a physical compulsion to do it without prompting? Um, no. Combine my coldness with my earsplitting rages and I've got a totally befuddled crowd.

It makes me hate myself. I know I'm a good person inside. I tell my daughter that I have a monster brain and an angel heart. It is my fucked brain chemistry and my damaged amygdala. Even though I am totally safe and happy now, my brain just ignores that information and takes me through the emotions of total, irrational terror and anger. The whole fight or flight response... it just turns on at random or at the slightest stimulus. People don't consider the long term ramifications of what they do to children. I may have been abused a decade ago, but I'm still fighting it's affects. It's very similar to what veterans go through after coming back from war. You're just ruined... your capacity to feel safe and to feel emotionally invested in the world around you is gone. I'm always waiting for that blow to fall on me... like I deserve it or something.

Jamie asks me why I'm down all the time and why he can't make me happy. This question confuses me because I am the happiest I've ever been in my whole entire life. I just wish that I could manifest how happy I am on the outside and I wish I could convince my stupid, defective brain that I am OK.

2 comments:

  1. wow...not mommy dearest...I...am...WEAK! ;) My mother was a basket case as well...but...I'm learning that I don't have to become her in the process...I'm sure that her mother passed on something to her and her mothers-mother...(so on and so forth)...so with that said...breaking the cycle is a great way to kill the villain in the movie you call your life...have fun...and don't trip while being chased...

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  2. Wow, I just found your blog, but reading this entry hit home. And secretly made me wonder if I have some sister out there that I don't know about. I have an equally terrorizing mother. Therapy has worked some, but you never rid yourself of that learned response. I do find some comfort in realizing that she's the one who is broken and doesn't live in the same world as the rest of normal functioning adults.

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