Negative venting rambling
I talked to my brother a little while ago. I was at the mall getting a hair cut and he called. He had already called about 5 times but I didn’t get the call. Anyway- he wanted something. You always know that when my brother calls b/c he doesn’t associate with members of the family any other time. He’s totally different with his friends.
I gave up so much of my life to help that kid. I mean it isn’t his fault that my parents weren’t actually parents- they didn’t “raise” us- they made sure we had food and water and clothing on our back- but when it came to life lessons- we were shit outta luck. Anyway- the only things my brother knows about life (the only healthy things) are the one’s I taught him. I know that sounds like a really arrogant thing to say- but it’s the truth. Unfortunately- I taught him some bad to- b/c I never signed up to be a parent- I was teaching him this shit when I was still a kid. I was so horrible to him as a child and I feel a certain level of guilt for that. Even though I’ve apologized profusely- I know I played a role in his destructive behavior so I have tried very hard to make up for it over the years. And that involved taking quite a bit of abuse.
You know- I’m seeing a pattern here with the men in my life. The same thing happened w my brother as it did w steve. I feel such incredible guilt for the way I acted as a child/teenager that I’ve taken extreme amounts of abuse from these people thinking that if I took enough abuse some how the score would be settled and we could have a great relationship- Um…WRONG!
That’s the purest form of codependency- thinking that my actions can change other’s emotions and ways of being- I’m just not that important. That sounded wrong- actually I see myself as having way more value now than I did when I started this journey- but I just realize that all this pressure that I’ve been carrying around has just sucked the life out of me. I can’t do it anymore.
I love my brother. But he uses me. He loves me too- but he uses me. He is a narcisscist. He views the world like if he’s unhappy than that means everyone else has to change- but not him. And I’m the opposite- I look at it like everything’s my fault and making things good won’t happen unless I make it happen. The 2 types of personality traits don’t mix at all. Well actually that’s not completely true- when the 2 personality types meet- doormat meets narcicist its actually really fucking great for the narciscist- the doormat is the one that gets fucked. And guess who that doormat is- that would be me. Not anymore.
When my brother called he asked when I was leaving the mall. I told him I don’t know. He asked me about when. I told him I don’t know. He then explained his question to me- as if to say, like he always does, “Here is why my life is just way more important than yours…..” And I know he thinks that. He called me b/c he wanted weed. Now I’ve called him for weed- and when I do I go out of my way to make it more convenient for him- b/c he’s doing me a favor. Not him- he looks at it the same way my father does- like the world owes him something.
I guess what bothers me is that I really do want to be a compassionate person. I want to help people- doing so makes me really happy. But I can’t be that way with my brother and father. It’s either be a bitch or be a doormat. You give them and inch and they take 10 miles. At least my brother shows gratitude. My father says thank u- but to me- if he really meant it he wouldn’t break my fucking balls anytime I was anything less than perfect. The extreme guilt trip that my father gives me every fucking time I speak to him is more than I can take.
I’ve given up my whole fucking life for that man. All of it. All my joy. Every potential for happiness up to this point- squandered. Life just stopped being good. I would sit there every Sunday and just take his abuse. He would just scream at me the whole time. He would bark questions about my life at me and then roll his eyes while he made it seem like it was my fault that I didn’t want to share with him. Like- you fucking asshole- you’re my dad- of course I want to share things with my father. But he’s just horrible. He’s so mean. And I was becoming mean. I was losing my compassion. I saw it happening. It’s like I would get so far in my life and then every time I’d talk to him he’d just knock me right back down again. And I just thought that was life- b/c I didn’t know any better. That was my life. That’s all it has ever been. I was resilient in high school and in my early 20s- then something happened. I can’t pinpoint the moment yet- but I just gave up on life being any fun or good at all. It was just to hard. I looked at it like if I stay down- then maybe it will be easier. Every time I was happy he came at me so much harder. It bothered him so much to see me happy. Especially at my weight- b/c in his eyes people at my weight should put on mumus and hide themselves from the world. It fucking urks him when I don’t show hate for myself. Misery loves company. Truer words have never been spoken. If I were to use one phrase to describe my father it would be that “misery loves company.” There was no room for joy in my life with all the hate and anger and misery he beat into me. And he did beat it into me. Verbally berating me everyday. That’s what I knew of love. No wonder I was so fucking scared to date. I got to the point where the only thing I could get myself to do was work- and he tried to control even that. And I started not being able to get up in the morning.
My reality was- every time you try it gets even harder so stop trying. Accept it. This is you. Other people deserve love, not you. Other people deserve to be happy, not you. That was really how I saw life. I hate him so much for that. I have such loathing for him that the thought of sitting in front of him is just unbearable. I never knew how much it took from me. If I did- I swear I would have done absolutely anything to make it not happen.
I started writing this journal entry b/c my interactions w my brother are just fucking hurtful. He uses me and it hurts. I wish he wasn’t like that. But he is. I wish I could just give to him. I wish I could help him. But the only time he calls is when he needs something. That’s it.
It just hurts.
I’m sitting in my living room and my ma just poored her fucking glass of wine. I feel like I’m gonna throw the fuck up. I HATE that she drinks. I fucking loathe it. Honestly when I see her with a glass of wine I want to fucking vomit. Of course- she’s dressed up so she looks great. She’s 57 and she’s very thin. Not too thin- she looks really good. She is very pretty, very shapely, and she always makes sure she looks great. She doesn’t seem to care as much about the fact that she’s a drunk- but she makes sure she looks good. I know it’s her struggle. That’s why I don’t express my anger to her. I know that even though she looks good- she doesn’t think so. I know how much she hurts. That’s why I shut up about how much her drinking bothers me. But that can’t be it- I need to release this anger/pain somehow. She’s listening to my ipod dock- I just snapped at her and told her that if she spilt wine on my ipod I’d hate her for life. I actually said those words. How ugly is that? I don’t like being that way- but that’s the stuff that comes out when you’re forced to lie about the stuff that is actually bothering you. Or just forced to shut the fuck up. I guess I just have to forgive myself for that comment. That and I’m gonna pack up my laptop and go upstairs. It’s easier to stay down here but there’s a price for easy in this house. Avoidance is the key to my sanity.
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My brother just came in. there's a cheesecake in the frig. He mentions out loud that he's going to take a bite of the cheesecake. His voice sounded like he was giving in- like all week he was forcing himself not to eat it and now he was saying fuck it- he just wanted a bite. I asked why his voice sounded like that. He said he was trying not to eat it all week b/c he knows how much I like it. NO I DON'T. It bothered me tremendously that he said that and at first I didn't know why. I said out loud that it bothered me and I don't know why. He said "well I'm sorry I upset you." He didn't upset me. The statement upset me. I get it now- I get why the statement bothers me. He doesn't listen to me. He doesn't listen to anyone in this family. He makes assumptions on how each of us feel- he could ask- but he doesn't EVER. He avoids everyone in this family like the plague. He is mister social to all his friends and he just doesn't like us. And for me- that's fine- let's just put that shit on the table. Be who the fuck you are- say it out loud. But not him. Not my dad. We aren't worth the effort to him to find out what we actually like- b/c that would mean sitting down, sitting still, and actually listening to us. He wont do that- not with us. Every time I talk to my brother I feel like I have to talk really fast b/c at any moment he's going to walk away from me. It's horrible. Talking to his family means good and bad times- sometimes we get upset with the way he acts. He does anything he possibly can to avoid that. Any time anyone shows anything other than absolute bliss with what he's saying we just stop being worth the effort to him. He flips out- he says out loud something belligerant like- "Okay- I guess I can't talk to you guys." BULLSHIT- you just need us all to be hanging on your every word like your friends do- any form of negativity AT ALL- and he's done, he's out. And that's a wrap. I don't like it.
I stick out like a sore thumb here- I always have. I gotta get the fuck out. There's nothing wrong with me. There's something wrong with them and I'm the requisite doormat. Something's gotta give.
I gave up so much of my life to help that kid. I mean it isn’t his fault that my parents weren’t actually parents- they didn’t “raise” us- they made sure we had food and water and clothing on our back- but when it came to life lessons- we were shit outta luck. Anyway- the only things my brother knows about life (the only healthy things) are the one’s I taught him. I know that sounds like a really arrogant thing to say- but it’s the truth. Unfortunately- I taught him some bad to- b/c I never signed up to be a parent- I was teaching him this shit when I was still a kid. I was so horrible to him as a child and I feel a certain level of guilt for that. Even though I’ve apologized profusely- I know I played a role in his destructive behavior so I have tried very hard to make up for it over the years. And that involved taking quite a bit of abuse.
You know- I’m seeing a pattern here with the men in my life. The same thing happened w my brother as it did w steve. I feel such incredible guilt for the way I acted as a child/teenager that I’ve taken extreme amounts of abuse from these people thinking that if I took enough abuse some how the score would be settled and we could have a great relationship- Um…WRONG!
That’s the purest form of codependency- thinking that my actions can change other’s emotions and ways of being- I’m just not that important. That sounded wrong- actually I see myself as having way more value now than I did when I started this journey- but I just realize that all this pressure that I’ve been carrying around has just sucked the life out of me. I can’t do it anymore.
I love my brother. But he uses me. He loves me too- but he uses me. He is a narcisscist. He views the world like if he’s unhappy than that means everyone else has to change- but not him. And I’m the opposite- I look at it like everything’s my fault and making things good won’t happen unless I make it happen. The 2 types of personality traits don’t mix at all. Well actually that’s not completely true- when the 2 personality types meet- doormat meets narcicist its actually really fucking great for the narciscist- the doormat is the one that gets fucked. And guess who that doormat is- that would be me. Not anymore.
When my brother called he asked when I was leaving the mall. I told him I don’t know. He asked me about when. I told him I don’t know. He then explained his question to me- as if to say, like he always does, “Here is why my life is just way more important than yours…..” And I know he thinks that. He called me b/c he wanted weed. Now I’ve called him for weed- and when I do I go out of my way to make it more convenient for him- b/c he’s doing me a favor. Not him- he looks at it the same way my father does- like the world owes him something.
I guess what bothers me is that I really do want to be a compassionate person. I want to help people- doing so makes me really happy. But I can’t be that way with my brother and father. It’s either be a bitch or be a doormat. You give them and inch and they take 10 miles. At least my brother shows gratitude. My father says thank u- but to me- if he really meant it he wouldn’t break my fucking balls anytime I was anything less than perfect. The extreme guilt trip that my father gives me every fucking time I speak to him is more than I can take.
I’ve given up my whole fucking life for that man. All of it. All my joy. Every potential for happiness up to this point- squandered. Life just stopped being good. I would sit there every Sunday and just take his abuse. He would just scream at me the whole time. He would bark questions about my life at me and then roll his eyes while he made it seem like it was my fault that I didn’t want to share with him. Like- you fucking asshole- you’re my dad- of course I want to share things with my father. But he’s just horrible. He’s so mean. And I was becoming mean. I was losing my compassion. I saw it happening. It’s like I would get so far in my life and then every time I’d talk to him he’d just knock me right back down again. And I just thought that was life- b/c I didn’t know any better. That was my life. That’s all it has ever been. I was resilient in high school and in my early 20s- then something happened. I can’t pinpoint the moment yet- but I just gave up on life being any fun or good at all. It was just to hard. I looked at it like if I stay down- then maybe it will be easier. Every time I was happy he came at me so much harder. It bothered him so much to see me happy. Especially at my weight- b/c in his eyes people at my weight should put on mumus and hide themselves from the world. It fucking urks him when I don’t show hate for myself. Misery loves company. Truer words have never been spoken. If I were to use one phrase to describe my father it would be that “misery loves company.” There was no room for joy in my life with all the hate and anger and misery he beat into me. And he did beat it into me. Verbally berating me everyday. That’s what I knew of love. No wonder I was so fucking scared to date. I got to the point where the only thing I could get myself to do was work- and he tried to control even that. And I started not being able to get up in the morning.
My reality was- every time you try it gets even harder so stop trying. Accept it. This is you. Other people deserve love, not you. Other people deserve to be happy, not you. That was really how I saw life. I hate him so much for that. I have such loathing for him that the thought of sitting in front of him is just unbearable. I never knew how much it took from me. If I did- I swear I would have done absolutely anything to make it not happen.
I started writing this journal entry b/c my interactions w my brother are just fucking hurtful. He uses me and it hurts. I wish he wasn’t like that. But he is. I wish I could just give to him. I wish I could help him. But the only time he calls is when he needs something. That’s it.
It just hurts.
I’m sitting in my living room and my ma just poored her fucking glass of wine. I feel like I’m gonna throw the fuck up. I HATE that she drinks. I fucking loathe it. Honestly when I see her with a glass of wine I want to fucking vomit. Of course- she’s dressed up so she looks great. She’s 57 and she’s very thin. Not too thin- she looks really good. She is very pretty, very shapely, and she always makes sure she looks great. She doesn’t seem to care as much about the fact that she’s a drunk- but she makes sure she looks good. I know it’s her struggle. That’s why I don’t express my anger to her. I know that even though she looks good- she doesn’t think so. I know how much she hurts. That’s why I shut up about how much her drinking bothers me. But that can’t be it- I need to release this anger/pain somehow. She’s listening to my ipod dock- I just snapped at her and told her that if she spilt wine on my ipod I’d hate her for life. I actually said those words. How ugly is that? I don’t like being that way- but that’s the stuff that comes out when you’re forced to lie about the stuff that is actually bothering you. Or just forced to shut the fuck up. I guess I just have to forgive myself for that comment. That and I’m gonna pack up my laptop and go upstairs. It’s easier to stay down here but there’s a price for easy in this house. Avoidance is the key to my sanity.
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My brother just came in. there's a cheesecake in the frig. He mentions out loud that he's going to take a bite of the cheesecake. His voice sounded like he was giving in- like all week he was forcing himself not to eat it and now he was saying fuck it- he just wanted a bite. I asked why his voice sounded like that. He said he was trying not to eat it all week b/c he knows how much I like it. NO I DON'T. It bothered me tremendously that he said that and at first I didn't know why. I said out loud that it bothered me and I don't know why. He said "well I'm sorry I upset you." He didn't upset me. The statement upset me. I get it now- I get why the statement bothers me. He doesn't listen to me. He doesn't listen to anyone in this family. He makes assumptions on how each of us feel- he could ask- but he doesn't EVER. He avoids everyone in this family like the plague. He is mister social to all his friends and he just doesn't like us. And for me- that's fine- let's just put that shit on the table. Be who the fuck you are- say it out loud. But not him. Not my dad. We aren't worth the effort to him to find out what we actually like- b/c that would mean sitting down, sitting still, and actually listening to us. He wont do that- not with us. Every time I talk to my brother I feel like I have to talk really fast b/c at any moment he's going to walk away from me. It's horrible. Talking to his family means good and bad times- sometimes we get upset with the way he acts. He does anything he possibly can to avoid that. Any time anyone shows anything other than absolute bliss with what he's saying we just stop being worth the effort to him. He flips out- he says out loud something belligerant like- "Okay- I guess I can't talk to you guys." BULLSHIT- you just need us all to be hanging on your every word like your friends do- any form of negativity AT ALL- and he's done, he's out. And that's a wrap. I don't like it.
I stick out like a sore thumb here- I always have. I gotta get the fuck out. There's nothing wrong with me. There's something wrong with them and I'm the requisite doormat. Something's gotta give.
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