Little Girl Lost

 

I am often asked why I am still single.  I'm told that I am smart, funny, beautiful, fun, etc.  It is hard to explain to someone who asks why.  I know why.

I hesitate to write this as it may seem that I hate my family or others but it isn't true.  I love everyone.  (Well, not that crazy bitch...some of you know who I mean.)

In all seriousness, no one is really at fault for how I feel.  We cannot change the past but we can have an understanding of how things were and how we now deal with feelings and situations.

And with that being said....

I've been in therapy for awhile before I had a full understanding of why I choose men who abandoned me.  My therapist was very good at asking the right questions and interpreting my answers in order to help me stop the cycle.

After my last break up I was deeply hurt.  I thought everything was good and never thought that he would do what he did to me.  But he did.

I sought out help.

What I learned is why I am still single.

My choices in relationships all stemmed from my relationship with my parents.  I had learned that my mother was extremely narcissistic and controlling.  I was conditioned to understand that receiving her love was more like a transaction.  If I didn't conform to her wishes, her love was taken from me.  I saw her do it repeatedly to others and my biggest fear was losing her love for me.  

It was such a fucked up way to grow up.  I thought that if I was a certain way, I would be loved, not just by my mom, but by everyone.

I had met my aunt and uncle for lunch once and my aunt told my kids that I was such a loving child.  Every time that they would come to visit, I would run to them for hugs and kisses.  Tears stung my eyes.  Thinking back to those times I realized that I was such a love starved child, I just wanted to be hugged and feel unconditional love from someone.

I never was hugged by my mother.  Her hugs were always cheek to cheek.  I never heard praise.  It was usually a comment that "you could have done better" or she would make it a point to tell me that she always did it better.  

At the time I never thought it was a wrong way to be loved.  For me, it was normal.

When I became the age for dating and boyfriends, it became a nightmare.

I was in the mindset that love came with conditions and expectations and if those weren't met, then it wasn't love.  Being in relationships was always incredibly stressful for me.

My father was pretty stand-offish.  I do think my mom had some contribution to the relationship I have with my father.  She demanded that she came first and if I didn't chose her, there was always mental hell to pay.

I wish that my father was more caring.  It seems that he wanted perfect kids, correcting our English, no laughing at the table, no asking how our day was. (At least that is what I remember.)  He never hugged us or tucked us in at night.

My father always seemed to love everyone else.  He was always good to others, willing to help them and even hug them.  I held in so much anger because these people got the attention from my father that I had wished he had given me.

My parents fought verbally and sometimes physically.  

Not only did I have a fucked up view of love, my view of relationships was even more fucked up.

Again, at the time, it was my normal.  I figured that the Brady family was abnormal and no one really lived like that.

I cannot go back and redo my choices in relationships.  I am sad that I gave two men two very beautiful children and those men were incapable to see me needing their love.

I am thankful that my children didn't grow up not getting hugs and goodnight kisses.  I did make it a point to never let my kids grow up like I did.

I am also sad that I didn't get help sooner.

The difficult thing now is learning to accept love from others.  I cannot even explain how hard it is to allow people to love me without thinking that there is a condition attached to it.

I had been getting better.  I tell friends that I love them and I feel them love me.  I am even learning to love myself for the shit show I think that I am.

There was a huge set back recently that sent me into a tailspin.

My father was visiting.  I have always looked forward to seeing him as I thought we were working on the relationship that we have.  We have had talks about the past but I don't think he really understands the toxic environment that we were all in.

He had a little too many spirits and told some of my new friends that I was not a good person and that I was a "jerk".  That was so hurtful as I didn't want them thinking that I was just putting a fake side forward.

Someone walked in the club and he wrapped his arms around her and said how good it was to see her.  I held back tears.

He told people that I hadn't seen in 30 years that I didn't deserve the car that my son bought me.

I probably will never understand why he feels the way he does or why he doesn't see the hurt he caused me.  I also don't understand why he never took what we talked about to heart.

I love my dad but at the same time I don't want to let him hurt me anymore.

It's hard.

For most of my life I have feel like a very unlovable little girl just desperate for someone to love me.

As the same time, I have walls up so high because I don't want to keep being hurt.

I've been keeping to myself and licking my wounds as I have been doing for many years.

Someday I hope that someone will see me though a little hole in my wall and just love me unconditionally.  Because if they can do that, they would have all the love that I've been holding back.

The Berlin Wall and My Mother

I used to have a piece of the Berlin Wall.

I bet you are wondering how this relates to my mother.

Let me tell you...

This is probably one of this most difficult things to write about and it has taken me years to put it together and just as long to not stop writing to have a cry.

Like I said, I used to have a piece of the Berlin Wall.  I also had a very coveted Stephen King novel and a potato belly mandolin.

As I write, please remember that I do love my mother.

You can love someone and at the very same time be angry at them.

I had a bad break up years ago that led me to see a counselor.  During my first visit I exclaimed, "Why do I keep choosing the wrong men?"

So the counselor asked me about my past, my family dynamics, my goals, what makes me happy.  You know, all that counseling stuff.

After a few sessions, my counselor mentioned that she thought I may be the daughter of a narcissistic mother.  She recommended that I read, "Will I Ever Be Good Enough", by Karyl McBride.

I read the book.  

And I cried for hours.

and hours....

The book felt like the author knew my life.

The hurt and anger bubbled up to the surface.  I had an understanding of why I am the way I am.

A narcissistic mother has the family revolve around them.  The pit siblings against each other.  She is extremely controlling of one child (me), makes one out to be the bad kid (my brother) and ignores the rest (my sister).

A narcissistic mother cannot exhibit empathy.  She doesn't acknowledge your successes and stresses the importance of how things look to her and not how it feels for you.  She is critical and judgmental.  She is more of a friend than a parent.  She tells you how to feel instead of asking how you feel.  

The dynamic of a narcissistic mother is so broad that I cannot even list everything and not all narcissistic mothers have all of the dynamic.

Obviously, growing up, I never knew of this form of abuse but as an adult, I totally do now.

Trying to heal from it is difficult.  I suffer from such self doubt.  

When I fix my hair, I hear my mom's voice, "If you wear you hair short, you face wouldn't look so fat." 

I struggle in relationships.  I try so hard to please my partner that I lose who I am in the process.  I have had lots of practice trying to please my mother in order to receive love and acceptance.  I never felt like I totally achieved the goal.

During my counseling, I grieved for my younger self.  I see a little blonde haired girl wanting desperately to be loved but never feeling it the way that it should have been.

Instead of encouraging me to grow and learn my way, she limited me.  I wanted to go to college so bad in Colorado.  I applied and was accepted at several universities.  When the acceptance letters came in the mail, I eagerly showed them to my mom.  She looked at the letters in disgust and said that she would never pay for me to go to a school that far away.  My hopes and dreams were cut so very short.  I basically gave up on dreaming after that.

When I was 21, I finally moved out and as I was packing up my room I noticed my coveted Stephen King novel, that she had even given my one Christmas, was missing as well as a piece of the Berlin Wall that a friend had sent me.  I questioned her on it and she said that she took them and gave them to one of her friends because she figured I was doing reading the book and that I didn't want the rock anyway.

Even after all this time, I am very angry.  Two of my favorite treasures.....gone.

After my second divorce, my parents were helping me move into my new house.  She spotted my antique potato belly mandolin and asked if she could have it back.  She gave it to me for Christmas one year.  She wanted to gift it to my nephew (that I have never met) because she felt he would appreciate it more than me.

Again, I felt defeated but I didn't stand up to her.

Even after she died, my sister got her wedding rings and she said that was going to happen because I should get my grandmother's ring from my Aunt.  She said I should contact her to get it.

So why do I write about this now?

It has taken time.  I have so many unfinished drafts.  It is a hard subject to explain.  I open myself up to judgment because heaven forbid that I talk bad about her.

I can only hope that I continue to heal.  

Maybe someday I will be good enough.



Links:

Will I Ever Be Good Enough by Karyl McBride

Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers Website

Mom's Ring

I have weird dreams from time to time.  I guess it is just because I have a weird mind.

I dreamt the other night about my mom's wedding ring.  I can't remember the whole context of the dream, only the fact that I couldn't find it.

This caused me to panic the next morning.

It had been months since I last seen it.  I used to wear it on my diamond necklace since it was too small to wear on my hand.  I also never want anything to happen to it.

It is a small ring with a heart shaped diamond.  I love how simple it is and what it means.

When my mom and step dad got married, I thought it was the most meaningful thing representing their relationship.

Anyway....

The ring reminds me of her.

I know I have written in the past that my mom was extremely narcissistic, causing issues in my own relationships and yadda yadda.

From what I have read so far on the whole dynamic of daughters of narcissistic mothers, the daughters tend to hold such anger towards their mothers.

I must be different.

Understanding what may cause the narcissist to become what they are, helps me forgive anything that may have happened.

I can never hold anger.  It isn't healthy.

Everything that has happened in the past has caused me to become the person I am today.

I love my mom regardless.

I love having her ring.

A symbol of love....

Anonymity is a Voice of Cowards

Today was a trying day to say the least.

I have been having weird issues with headaches, dizzy spells, metal taste in my mouth, losing hair and abdominal pain.  I saw the doctor today to rule out some things but nothing really got ruled out.  I just have to see a different doctor on May 9th.  I won't say too much about what is going on since I don't have the answers yet.

I can deal with it.  Even though I am worried, I can deal with it.

She did discover that I have a sinus infection...still.  I thought it was cleared up but apparently is it really good at trickery.  So I have some huge horse pills to take.

Isn't that great?

So let's get to the point of this blog entry....

I come home from the doctor to find a letter in my mailbox.  There was no return address and no signature on the letter.

The letter is anonymous.

It goes on to tell me that I need to make the decision to be happy. Apparently, I am not happy and this person gathers this from whatever I post on facebook.

Yeah, facebook drama....

I hate facebook but then again I can't turn away from it.  Isn't that weird.  I suppose that many people have this issue.

Moving on...

the writer of this letter also tells me to move on and to get over it.  I guess I am angry all the time too.  

hrrmmm

The writer of the letter talks about my mother and what she did to me. (look up narcissistic mothers and the damage that they do...just look).  I'm not letting that go, not yet.  My therapist said that it is ok for me to be angry about it.  I am allowed to be pissed off and bitter and have negative feelings.  There is some serious damage done and I am NOT letting that go.  If that bothers you, then too bad.  Too fucking bad....

I guess the writer says that I am passing this anger on to my children.  Um, I don't think so.  I have done a lot of work to not be the kind of mother I had.  I allow them to follow their dreams and do what they love.  I support them emotionally.  I tell them every day that I love them.  And if that is passing my anger on to them, then so what.

The writer also used the phrase "be happy" so many times, I wanted to vomit.  Choose to be happy, just be happy, in fact....be happy were the last two words on the letter.  Really?  Just be happy?  Is that all it takes?  This person must be on some sort of medication or doesn't really understand depression.  

If I don't make the choice to be happy then I guess I prefer to live my life in misery.  Yep, that is what it says.  Sounds like this person doesn't know diddly about me at all.  

Also, the writer stated that my mother, me and my daughter are angry, bitter, drama queens.  

Pfft....whatever.....

Oh and the very best part....wait for it.....

Wait

For

It

The writer says that I suck the good, the positive, and the happiness out of people because of my choices.

Yep....that right there just pissed me off.

So many people enjoy my company.  They enjoy my conversation and my humor.  I have an ability to take whatever stressful situation and put a funny spin on it.  The doctor's office today was a great example.  I can make my broken ovaries a very funny discussion.

If anything sucks, it has been numerous people and what they have done to me.  I have been taken advantage of so many times.  I guess that has been my choice in the past.  I chose these people to be around and they sucked me out of my happiness.  So, I no longer really talk to those people anymore.

The letter goes on the say that my father and my exes help me out and I have a nice place to live and blah blah fucking blah....and I should be grateful for it.  I am grateful, really.  All three of them really caused a lot of hurt in the past and I got over it and moved on.  I forgave the cheater, the pansy and the leaver (I won't say who is who, just that all three of them left me and left me wounded.)  I am grateful for my ability to forgive and my ability to ask for help.  I am grateful that I can look past the past hurts and allow these three people to be a part of my life.

How's that for being grateful?

Therapy has been a very positive choice that I have made.

I have become so much stronger.  I have realized that I am entitled to be angry and pissed off.  I allowed to have feelings.  I am also able to look in the mirror and see what a beautiful person I am despite all the negativity I have dealt with.

Apparently, what I write on the interwebs is always up for criticism.  I never minded that.  I don't really ever give two shits what anyone thinks.  I am who I am.  I am not here to impress anyone.  I never cared about stuff like that.  If you don't like me or what I say, that isn't my problem...it's yours.


This person could have sent me a nice card.  Maybe something to cheer me up, you know, a card with puppies or kittens on it.  They could have told me how pretty I am or how wonderful my kids are.  Hell, they could have not bothered to send anything at all and kept their freaking stupid opinions to themselves.  Now there's an idea.

So whoever wrote this letter and took the time to mail it, is a fucking coward.  This person think they know me and all my crosses, all my hurts, all my smiles, all my thoughts and feelings.

They don't.

They suck at anonymity.  

I know exactly who they are; a cruel, ugly, mean, horrible, stupid, heartless, little person.

and that made me happy to write that.  :-)