Family--Beating My Head Against the Wall

To say I come from a dysfunctional family is putting it mildly.  Further back than my own memory reaches my siblings have hated me.  No, really, I'm not making this up or being dramatic.  I don't talk about this much because it brings a lot of sadness and discomfort, anger and resentment rushing to the surface.  It's a long story, really, and one with gaps and holes and far-reaching voids where many memories have vanished.  It would be oh so much easier had I been adopted, because I know virtually nothing about my family tree, for all the asking I've done over the years, and my parents are both deceased with my having absolutely NO idea where I came from, who my ancestors are, or what my connection is to any of them, if at all.

I was a "Mistake," according to my mother.  Now, my relationship and experience with my mom is a story in and of itself, and honestly... I could write a novel here about that.  But I'm not going to.  Let's just say my mom was disconnected by the time I was born, old enough to be my grandmother, and about as unplugged as a parent could get.  It was easier to micromanage and control everything to a damaging degree, rather than create experiences that may have given me a chance and coming out on the other side with less 'issues.'  Yes, of course I have issues, and in a way it was my mom's only legacy.

How is it that I could know little of nothing, if anything, about anyone in my family tree?  Well, that's easy--when you don't answer questions, share nothing, and ensure that not a single photo, letter, information, etc. gets passed down to you... well, you can't ask a dead person questions.  Point blank, not pretty, but absolute truth just the same.

Everything from health/medical information was shared primarily with ONE of the 6 children, and I wasn't the one who got the information.  My eldest sister was my mother's confidant, her go-to gal, and there was an almost too-close relationship between my mom and my oldest sister (old enough to be my mom).  I spent my entire life on the outside, looking in, and it was that way until my mom passed away (over 20 years ago now).

One sister and I shared a dad, and my other siblings share a father form my mom's 1st and only marriage.  Yep, my other sister and I were illegitimate.  I could really care less about that, to tell you the truth.  My dad was out of the picture when I was 18 months old, and my mother really never spoke of him or his family except for some really scary things, very dark and scary things.  Now, it shouldn't surprise anyone that if you scare a kid like that, they're most likely not ever going to ask too many questions.  This was the case with me.

The siblings who had a different dad hate me.  Just the truth.  I was even told that one reason they despised me was that, because we were very poor, they often didn't get as much milk (the example used by one brother and sister) because when it came down to the wire... "The baby" (me) needed it more than they did.  I can't speak for what happened when I was a baby.  I can't apologize for something that I didn't do on purpose.  Yet that resentment carried right into adulthood for my 3 brothers and one sister.  BTW, I don't really think of them as brothers and sisters because they've not treated me as such throughout my life.  What memories I have of life with them.. isn't good.

I was born very late, with my mom being in her early 40's when she had me.  All my siblings (but for one) was grown and gone and with kids of their own, so I pretty much grew up like an only child from about age 10.. when one of my sisters married and moved out (she was 16).  We lived in a 3 bedroom house that was eventually condemned, and my mother (a hoarder) used all 3 bedrooms as her hoarding rooms.  My sister, the one I share a dad with, had her own room, lots of 'stuff,' decorated walls, record player, records, clothes, and a bike.  I didn't have enough toys to even have a toy box, so even in this respect I would find myself living an entirely different life than my sister... and everyone else, actually.

My mom was absent, indifferent, cold most of the time...and even cruel.  Skipping over more details than will fit here, I will say that my childhood was very, very odd, and the damage done has proven to be long-lasting.  Still, I spent my life longing for a family, a REAL family.  Now, coming from a family with 3 brothers and 2 sisters you would think that a strange thing for me to say.  Aunts, uncles, cousins... really had nothing to do with me, but for one cousin who, I guess, simply took pity on me.  I felt the hostility from them all growing up and didn't understand any of it at all.  I felt it, saw it, heard it, and experienced that hostility until we moved away from California.  We moved to Colorado because my oldest brother wanted my mom to move there so she could babysit while he and my SIL could work.  I was in 8th grade when we moved, and my life didn't get better at all.

Longing for a real family... even to this day....

I would eventually move away from the state of Colorado.  My kids and I, to make a long story short as possible, ended up here in the south along the Gulf Coast, where we settled into that strange place (strange to us because we weren't from there) and would end up calling the south "Home."  It's the only place that ever felt like home to me.  I'm still in the south, but a little further north by a few short hours.  But back to "Family"....

When my mom passed, naturally my eldest sister got everything.  Very important items my mom was holding for me until I could send for them were divided amongst my brothers and sisters and nephews... or just tossed out as garbage.  They did this QUICKLY after my mother died, the day they found out, using the excuse that they were sure that since she was on disability, got a veteran's widow pension, and on Medicare, etc... that the 'government' was going to come in and take her stuff.  Yes, LUDICROUS, but that's the excuse they used.  And when I arrived for her funeral I wasn't even allowed to so much as have a photo of hers.  My eldest sister 'allowed' me to take ONE photo to have it photocopied.  My mom had boxes and boxes of photos, btw.

Few actually had anything to say to me at the funeral, or after.  It was the same shit, different day.. only worse.  A few years later I'd tried once again to make some kind of connection with them, but it ended in a total disaster.  I finally came to my senses and realized that I was the only one putting in any effort and that it just simply wasn't worth it.  I basically told my oldest brother and his bitchy wife to piss off.  And yes, it felt great and was LONG overdue.

In the present....

I know pretty much nothing of my family history, my family tree.  My last living grandparent died when I was 2 weeks old, and everyone else was so much older than me that no one really had anything to do with me.  My mom wasn't really forthcoming with names, histories, etc., though she did incorporate some names and such in a few fun stories she would tell from time to time.  But as a little child I really had no idea if she were making the stuff up/telling fairytales, or if the information was actually true.  And after my mom's death... the information about grandparents and such were simply not given to me, even if I asked.  Photos, etc.... all given to my sister, who claimed some neighbor stole them, were lost.  My brothers, etc. chose badly when they decided to give my sister everything.  One person said they thought my sister pawned or sold the framed antique photos of grandparents etc for money.  Sadly, it sounds exactly like something she would do.

The cruelty extends into adulthood....

When one of my brothers passed away a few years ago I was told about this AFTER the funeral had taken place, and... I was told on Facebook by a distant cousin.  She apparently looked for me on Facebook with ONE purpose in mind, and that was to send me a message that read.. "B**** passed away last week.  Thought you'd like to know."  I asked "How/why?" which lead to her replaying in the same short, blunt fashion. She then disappeared and didn't say a word ever again.  I'd written back a couple of times.. with no response.  I'd written my nephew as well, and have been ignored.  And this nephew I grew up with and was very close to most of our lives.  He's only 2 1/2 years younger than I am.

Cruelty was their favorite weapon, and continues to be so.


The family tree...

As someone who feels completely disconnected from 'family' or blood ties, history... it only stands to reason that I would, eventually, WANT to know something about my own family history.  SOMETHING.  ANYTHING.  So when I decided to look into www.ancestry.com I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction.  Maybe this site could help me put the broken pieces together in such a way that I would at least see my connection within the bloodline.

What I've done...

I created an account at www.ancestry.com over a year ago, but since I wasn't really willing to invest any money into getting a full account, I've only spent the smallest bit of time there.  But that changed for me about a week ago when I saw a commercial online for Ancestry and a DNA test they offered that shows where your bloodline is from, at least in percentages.  A lot of folks have jumped on board for this.  Now, one cool thing about the DNA test and having a real account (which I don't yet) is that you can set your family tree to allow links between matches for DNA, region, etc.  It's a lot more complicated than that, and they have a video that explains it all, but it's a really neat tool and a good place to start.  But what about for someone like me?....

DNA results may be the only thing I really get out of this, and that's okay.  It's something, isn't it?  It would be nice to know for sure what ethnicities are involved in my family tree, even if I don't have any family history to see how the pieces fit.  I sent my kit off today and, from what I understand, it will take about a week for the results to get uploaded online.  Knowing it's not going to give me complete picture of my family tree... I'm still okay, and I'm fairly patient where that's concerned.

So what's my freaking point here?

My point is this: If you have information about family history (names, places, etc) please share them with your kids.  Don't leave them in the dark to spend the rest of their lives wondering who they really are (history wise), where they're from, what their history is, etc.  It's really not a good or easy thing to live with when you have no idea about those things.  Don't do that to your kids, seriously.

My desire to know more about my family history/ancestry runs deeper than the hurt from the disconnection from my actual 'family members.'  I rarely use the word 'family' when speaking about them.  They're blood relatives to me, but nothing more.

I have to wonder if I'm beating my head against the wall trying to piece together a family tree I know nothing about.  Names, birth dates, etc. are required to even do searches or make connections.  What little information I have really just stops at my mom, and my dad I have only a name and birth date.  It's really like hitting a brick wall.  But is it worth it, all of this effort?  I don't know.

I really just don't know.  The one thing I DO know is that I'm left with the question: Will I ever fully understand myself in connection to history and ancestry?

*shrugs*

Well THAT was an epic FAIL!

Look, you won't hear me say I'm perfect.  I'm not even willing to say I'm striving to be perfect.  Why on earth would ANYONE set such impossible goals for themselves?  Not me.  Not now.  Not ever.  The only thing I can promise myself, or anyone, is to do the very best I can.  Having said that, so far... I've kind of sucked at it.  Dammit.

If I mention prednisone, it's for a reason.  Anyone who's had to take high doses for any real length of time (more than a few days) understands PERFECTLY about what it will do to a body, even to someone's thinking and personality.  It's a steroid, so yeah, it can do those things, whack out your entire body.  Corticosteroid or not, it's STILL a steroid.  And this particular steroid is a complete BITCH.

Swelling is a huge and very common side effect.  It's also a concern in that it can raise BP to an alarming degree.  That same swelling (edema) can also make it hard to breathe or sit or stand or lay down comfortably.  And that is only ONE of the nasty side-effects.  The next biggie... APPETITE increase!

Now, as I've mentioned before, the mechanics of this are annoying and bewildering.  And puzzling!  On one hand your taste buds end up dulled, leaving foods that you once liked tasting like clay.  Nothing tastes good.  But your appetite is through the roof 24/7 and doesn't ever take a damn break.  Well, unless you get the nausea... but even then that gnawing hunger is still there, you're just now turned off by food and can't imagine WHY you want to eat when everything sounds down right disgusting.  What the hell?

Fine.  So most of us who end up in this place, the place where I find myself now, have tried so many things to make it so anything we eat won't be a hit against our health.  Thing is, there doesn't seem to be an easy answer on how to handle this where it actually works in keeping the water weight, or actual weight gain at bay.  Younger people, teens and 20s often have an easier time of this as their metabolisms are still pretty fired up.  And if you're suffering from the crushing fatigue that is one of the hallmarks of AI diseases, then you end up not being able to exercise, or only able to exercise so little that it hardly does any good.

Well, right now I realize I made mistakes in what I choose to snack on during the day.  The usual "Small meals, more frequently, to lose weight" idea DOES NOT WORK WHEN YOU'RE ON PREDNISONE!  Know this!  And if you're over 30... beware, because you're fixing to find out just how much slower your metabolism is from when you were in your 20s.  Is it guaranteed?.. this weight gain?  No.  Everyone is different.  But don't be shocked if you find yourself swelling up and retaining Lake Michigan.

I just keep keeping on and riding this thing out.  From all I read this can all be fixed once off prednisone, given that one's adrenals haven't completely shut down.  THAT... is another story altogether.

Sheesh.  I need to go lay down....

For those who've left comments here.. THANK YOU!

So it seems comment notifications haven't been working in a VERY long time, so if you've left comments and I didn't reply please know it's because I didn't realize anyone had left any.  Blogger seems to have fixed this.. for now.

I appreciate everyone's feedback, more than I can find words to describe really.  I guess, with the exception of those I know 'in person,' or those who contact me via social networking or email, etc., I often wonder if I'm just shouting or whispering into the wind here.

It was my hope that sharing my own experiences would help others, or make people laugh, or think... well, then it's all well worth it, especially with regards to "This Free Spirit," which was created to help work my way to a healing place post-abuse and hoping to help others along the way know they're not alone.

So again, if you've left comments on any of the entries on any of the blogs and I haven't respond.. I will.  And hopefully Blogger's notification system re comments will continue to work!

Blessings and thanks to all of you...

The Crap I Spew

Well, I told you guys I was going to do this, and I know some of you, if not most of you, usually end up having a preference as to which blog(s) of mine to read.  At least that's what some of you have told me.  The new blog, however, is just an outlet for crazy, stupid, nutty, fun, wacky-whatevers I need or want to share.  Yes, sometimes it's 'need.' ;)

Crap that enters my mind, sometimes unbidden.
Crap I think up that ends up epically cool, or total crap.
Crap I have an opinion about.
Crap I just want to share with you guys for no reason.
Crap I've seen.
Crap I've heard.
Crap I'm confused by.
Crap I'm angered by.
Crap
Crap
Crap
Crap
...and even more Crap.

It's in its fledgling stage, so hang in there as the growing pains begin.

URL:

http://thecrapispew.blogspot.com

Have fun!  Oh, and remember... all PC is out the window there, and don't be surprised if you have multiple WTF moments... eventually, it's gonna happen. ;p

Recycling the old year anyway

New year, new beginnings... something people talk about when it's time for the calendar to change to the next page.  Why do people set themselves up like that?  Whatever drives you, I guess.  As for me, I've stopped prescribing to new year's resolutions and promises that I'm not 100% sure I can keep.  I mean, once you've let yourself down it's not the easiest thing getting past the ole "Dammit, I failed" self-talk.  Even if we don't say it out loud or think it consciously, it still rattles about inside for a bit.

No resolutions for me, thank you.  I'm going to do a life resolution and give myself permission to not reach that goal in any particular amount of time or in any particular fashion.

So I will now focus on simply recycling the last year into the next and giving it new purpose, a new chance.  Why not?  Why wouldn't I give myself that gift?  It costs exactly nothing and has a higher chance of actually being successful.  Think about it.  Giving yourself a do-over IS possible.

Reach for it.  If you grasp air, reach again.  Keep at it, because contrary to what some will tell you life is a damn process, not a static decision we make each day.  We're alive.  Period.  Get it?  We. Are. Alive.  It's already done for you, and all you have to do is participate.

Get it?

A Comfortable Position

Realistic; it's the new optimistic.  I can't change the facts, but I can change what I accept, what I don't accept, and how I deal with said facts...

Now, we've all heard the phrase.. "I can't change anyone else, but I CAN change ME."  And yes, that's true. But what this phrase doesn't address is how OTHERS can also change us!  In fact, it's the words and behaviors of others that do the most damage, or the most good, and it's often done with little effort on your part as a 'receiver' because while you may be ignoring, making excuses for, or actively doing whatever it takes to protect yourself... those words and behaviors touch your subconscious.  And this often happens in the most insidious of ways.  If you're dealing with someone who is NOT concerned about your best interest, OR you're dealing with a narcissist, then you're going to be in BIG trouble, my friend.  VERY big trouble.

Will I ever really heal?

I can't give an exact timeline, if there actually IS one, but I can keep moving can't I?  Can't I just keep moving like what's wounded is more like a muscle than my entire soul?  Won't this make it better in time, all this moving, shifting, changing?  While I can't answer the questions myself, the fact that I'm asking them means I'm still heading towards healing.  At least that's the way "I" see it.

Does this moving involve pushing down what I know is damage done, or does it mean I simply find a way to navigate around it through the course of my everyday life?  Now this is something I may or may not be able to figure out over time, but my thinking at the moment is that, at least for now, moving definitely means navigating around the damage I know is there, what is hurting.  All this shifting about to find a comfortable 'position' within myself only works for a short time, not much unlike when you've been sitting too long.  It does help for a little while.

Why not sugar-coat what is, put on the rose-colored glasses, numb the pain, the truth... just numb it all?  Because that's just one more tiresome temporary solution.  What I need is a final, definitive cure to the deep wounds within.  Isn't that what anyone wants when they come out of a dark situation?  Of course.  Why not?  We can long for, desire, and obtain (eventually) that which we deserve---freedom from pain and a gain of our self, whole, and undamaged as possible.

The side effects of being with a narcissist are far-reaching, undeniable, and long lasting.  Even out of the relationship they plague everything, poison the good, and pinch the wounds that refuse to heal.  They linger in the very air we breathe at times, even when we're not aware of it.  At least that's how it is with me.  Then suddenly they come crashing through again, ultimately pushing me back to square one for a time.  It's always there.  We don't forget.  "I" don't forget.  I can't forget.  The scars are a part of me now.

I still deal with it because I have to.  Or rather... I don't really DEAL with those side effects; it's more like I ENDURE them.  I mean, isn't that what most of us do until we, well, don't?