Recurring Themes...
Nov. 29th, 2004 10:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badstarSooooo..Dad aparently knows that moved. Not that I was trying to keep it form him, I just haven't talked to him since um...geez, was it September or July. Card was signed only "Love Dad and Karen" I will go back to Pa at Christmas and probably see them then, and get a confused look from Dad asking why I don't call. The response will be the same as always...me giving him the same confused look and asking why he doesnt call. And he'll say "I know...i promise to call. karen and I were thinking about coming down there for a day to visit."
A day with my father and stepmother? Don't get me wrong, i have nothing against Karen...She's one of those perfectly nice and harmless albeit just a bit annoying type of people. i can hold a conversation with her far longer than i can with my father. And Tarna should have had her baby months ago...that makes me a step-aunt I guess?
It's the same old thing. At once I feel apathetic towards my father, and I repetitively use the word 'inconsequential" but I'm eitherwron or I'm lying. Maybe both. However it happens, can a parent be truly inconsequential? There's this loop. I honestly don't care if I don't talk to my father. And then i feel bad because he's my father. And he's alive and i could try to make the effort even when he doesn't, and if I try and fail, at least I tried when the chance was there. But then, he's the one that left. Took mike and anthony down to Texas, left me and Michelle in PA with Grammy and Grandfather who shredded my 8-year-old world and twisted it to look like it was all my mother's doing..and mae themselves look like my svior from certain (and completely fabricated) poverty, danger, neglect, starvation until it all came crashing down when I was 13.
I don't know how it happened anymore...it's one of the few major things in my life that I'm really unable to recall. All I know is tha I was at their house one very cold weekend and apparently I figured out a bunch of their lies, or a few of the big key ones. That Sunday night I went back to my Mom's place to find that there had been a power outtage in the neighborhood all day, which lasted all night. I slept on my mom's cold waterbed that night with a bunch of bankets under me and a sleeping bag and yet more blankets over me. At some point shortly after that, I stopped talking to my grandparents for about a year. i never really told them why. It has been the only thing in my life that's ever realy mattered that I was never able to say...and later when i felt that i really needed to, when I thought that Grandfather was going to die any minute, and that i had to get it out to give myself any peace, amidst thumping techno and the various goings-on at the Gold Bar, a long conversation with my friend Sean eventually showed me that I didn't need to do that..i had gone that far without confrontaion, and what good would it do, they would never see anyhitng but their version of what happened and it would just hurt me that much more. So I let that go...though a few weeks later, some of the old lies came back and for a short time I felt that I desperately needed confrontation...and it eventually settle in that I knew the truth, and that was all that mattered.
A few weeks after that, I was home alone one night thinking of the idea of forgiveness, and how i've forgivn everyone i've ever known every transgression...except for three people and one huge or a billion tiny transgressions...I hadn't been able to forgive them that...I wasn't holding a grudge, I felt no ill will towards thm..it's not in me to hold grudges...I tried. I wanted to. When i wasn't speaking to them, it wasn't to punish them, or anger or a grudge.it was preserving my sanity...how do you talk to someone that you can't think of without breaking down? That night, forgiveness was on my mind for some reason. I knew that one day i'd find it in me....I expected that to happen when I was 40. that's exactly what I was thinking "I want to..but I can't yet. someday..." and I was about to move on and check my email or something....and it smehow happened in a matter of seconds that somethign in my mind changed, and I realized then that I had forgiven them... stared crying and laughing at the same tim, I had never felt such a surge of emotion like that before. This was also the night that my absolute faith in somethign divine in this world was cemented. I remember that as I started laughing and crying, the light n my room seemed to get a lot brighter, and he air felt a bit warmer, and felt myslf wrapped up in the presence of something protective, divine and nameless, but definitely feminine. I can only think to call the presence "mother goddess' and by that I don't mean "Mother Goddess" my beliefs cold not be called "Goddess-centric" i don't beleive in one God and One goddess...whatever...but i'm not writing about my belief of Deity/ies right now...
That was one truly amazing experience. I never expected the forgiveness to suddenly right all the wrongs of the past, I didn't think it wojuld make anyhting easier, though I can only say that I was almost devastated when I woke up the next morning and all I thought of the night before was "Ok....now what?"
I am writing without a point. Why do I keep writing about these things..my grandparents, my father, the family I have but will never be close to, the family in which I am the outsider who doesn't belong and den't often think about it enough to care?
Because dammit, that's most of what's made me who I am...or to say it better...I made myself what I am out of how i dealt with it.
Or maybe I have one. I don't know. But when I said that the only instance in which I had never forgiven someone was my grandparents and father....I was wrong. Or I was lying. Or both. See...there is one other who I have never forgiven something...and that's myself. I don't beat myself up about it, I very rarely think of it. It was al a result of the lies i was told..afer making it look like my mother had disapeared form the face of the earth (she was never more than 3 or 4 miles away) my grandparents didn't have a very hard time convincing me that she abandoned us and didn't love us. I eventually started to say that I hated my mother...and in time, say it to her...on the phone and eventually to her face.
As much as i beleive very strongly in personal responsibility...this is one time where I can say I really had very little. i didn't have to say it...but I definitely felt it...to the extent that a 9 or 10 year old can comprehend what hate is...and it certainly did seem that my mother had abandoned me. So wasn't I justified? *Sigh*
I don't feel that I have the abilty to take responsibility..despite that...or maybe because of that I don't feel that I have the ability to forgive myself.
i wonder, is that where my aversion to using the word hate comes from? Probably. It's not that I never use it, it's just not very common. There was a time for a while there that i actually refused to say "hate" I had trouble speaking it when quoting someone else. And feeling hate? I can honestly say that at this point in my life, i feel that I lack the ability to feel hate. I can feel any strong emotion but that. I can't comprehend it.
No..i don't have a point to this...
A day with my father and stepmother? Don't get me wrong, i have nothing against Karen...She's one of those perfectly nice and harmless albeit just a bit annoying type of people. i can hold a conversation with her far longer than i can with my father. And Tarna should have had her baby months ago...that makes me a step-aunt I guess?
It's the same old thing. At once I feel apathetic towards my father, and I repetitively use the word 'inconsequential" but I'm eitherwron or I'm lying. Maybe both. However it happens, can a parent be truly inconsequential? There's this loop. I honestly don't care if I don't talk to my father. And then i feel bad because he's my father. And he's alive and i could try to make the effort even when he doesn't, and if I try and fail, at least I tried when the chance was there. But then, he's the one that left. Took mike and anthony down to Texas, left me and Michelle in PA with Grammy and Grandfather who shredded my 8-year-old world and twisted it to look like it was all my mother's doing..and mae themselves look like my svior from certain (and completely fabricated) poverty, danger, neglect, starvation until it all came crashing down when I was 13.
I don't know how it happened anymore...it's one of the few major things in my life that I'm really unable to recall. All I know is tha I was at their house one very cold weekend and apparently I figured out a bunch of their lies, or a few of the big key ones. That Sunday night I went back to my Mom's place to find that there had been a power outtage in the neighborhood all day, which lasted all night. I slept on my mom's cold waterbed that night with a bunch of bankets under me and a sleeping bag and yet more blankets over me. At some point shortly after that, I stopped talking to my grandparents for about a year. i never really told them why. It has been the only thing in my life that's ever realy mattered that I was never able to say...and later when i felt that i really needed to, when I thought that Grandfather was going to die any minute, and that i had to get it out to give myself any peace, amidst thumping techno and the various goings-on at the Gold Bar, a long conversation with my friend Sean eventually showed me that I didn't need to do that..i had gone that far without confrontaion, and what good would it do, they would never see anyhitng but their version of what happened and it would just hurt me that much more. So I let that go...though a few weeks later, some of the old lies came back and for a short time I felt that I desperately needed confrontation...and it eventually settle in that I knew the truth, and that was all that mattered.
A few weeks after that, I was home alone one night thinking of the idea of forgiveness, and how i've forgivn everyone i've ever known every transgression...except for three people and one huge or a billion tiny transgressions...I hadn't been able to forgive them that...I wasn't holding a grudge, I felt no ill will towards thm..it's not in me to hold grudges...I tried. I wanted to. When i wasn't speaking to them, it wasn't to punish them, or anger or a grudge.it was preserving my sanity...how do you talk to someone that you can't think of without breaking down? That night, forgiveness was on my mind for some reason. I knew that one day i'd find it in me....I expected that to happen when I was 40. that's exactly what I was thinking "I want to..but I can't yet. someday..." and I was about to move on and check my email or something....and it smehow happened in a matter of seconds that somethign in my mind changed, and I realized then that I had forgiven them... stared crying and laughing at the same tim, I had never felt such a surge of emotion like that before. This was also the night that my absolute faith in somethign divine in this world was cemented. I remember that as I started laughing and crying, the light n my room seemed to get a lot brighter, and he air felt a bit warmer, and felt myslf wrapped up in the presence of something protective, divine and nameless, but definitely feminine. I can only think to call the presence "mother goddess' and by that I don't mean "Mother Goddess" my beliefs cold not be called "Goddess-centric" i don't beleive in one God and One goddess...whatever...but i'm not writing about my belief of Deity/ies right now...
That was one truly amazing experience. I never expected the forgiveness to suddenly right all the wrongs of the past, I didn't think it wojuld make anyhting easier, though I can only say that I was almost devastated when I woke up the next morning and all I thought of the night before was "Ok....now what?"
I am writing without a point. Why do I keep writing about these things..my grandparents, my father, the family I have but will never be close to, the family in which I am the outsider who doesn't belong and den't often think about it enough to care?
Because dammit, that's most of what's made me who I am...or to say it better...I made myself what I am out of how i dealt with it.
Or maybe I have one. I don't know. But when I said that the only instance in which I had never forgiven someone was my grandparents and father....I was wrong. Or I was lying. Or both. See...there is one other who I have never forgiven something...and that's myself. I don't beat myself up about it, I very rarely think of it. It was al a result of the lies i was told..afer making it look like my mother had disapeared form the face of the earth (she was never more than 3 or 4 miles away) my grandparents didn't have a very hard time convincing me that she abandoned us and didn't love us. I eventually started to say that I hated my mother...and in time, say it to her...on the phone and eventually to her face.
As much as i beleive very strongly in personal responsibility...this is one time where I can say I really had very little. i didn't have to say it...but I definitely felt it...to the extent that a 9 or 10 year old can comprehend what hate is...and it certainly did seem that my mother had abandoned me. So wasn't I justified? *Sigh*
I don't feel that I have the abilty to take responsibility..despite that...or maybe because of that I don't feel that I have the ability to forgive myself.
i wonder, is that where my aversion to using the word hate comes from? Probably. It's not that I never use it, it's just not very common. There was a time for a while there that i actually refused to say "hate" I had trouble speaking it when quoting someone else. And feeling hate? I can honestly say that at this point in my life, i feel that I lack the ability to feel hate. I can feel any strong emotion but that. I can't comprehend it.
No..i don't have a point to this...
