February 28, 2013

This past weekend — a few days ago — I put an end to a long family cycle.  Going back generations and generations.  It’s actually something to be very proud of, and I will celebrate it, but for now I am going through on and off mourning.

Quite symbolically on Sunday I handed back to my mom all the lies and falsehoods she has been — both her and my father — have been telling me.  Things that I have been carrying.

I no longer wanted to do this anymore.  I have been telling them these things for over 10 years and they have been telling me I am telling lies, I am fabricating, I’m taking things out of context, and on and on — not believing my truth.

But now I believe my truth.  I know it’s true and I’m not letting them push me aside anymore.

I made them both look and it and HEAR it.

Now they have to face it.  They have to deal with it.

I am no longer holding onto the pain and the lies for them.

This is their wounding, I have been, since I was young, protecting them from this stuff.

Letting them push me down and telling me I am not right / wrong.

So what happens because of it?  Well they are no longer in my life.

If you don’t let me have my truth — if the only way I can be in your life is to disregard or silence my truth, it’s no longer happening.

You are out.

And that makes me sad, of course.  Because it’s the end of an era.

I am no longer being their scape goat.   No longer taking on the role of “ohh, something is wrong with Blaire”

Because NOTHING is wrong with Blaire.  Something is wrong with them.

My dad not respecting my boundaries or my words.  My mom remaining silent.  Looking past it “Ohh, it’s how he shows love”

But love isn’t when a daughter is constantly telling her father to stop — to back off — yelling and even being brought to tears.

I wasn’t sexually abused, but there was a constant disrespect for my personal space, and for my boundaries.

I have told my father to stop this many times, yet two weeks ago he did it again — something as “innocent” as a slap on the behind, that I have told him a million times to cut it out.

I go through phases, at least I have all these years — feeling bad for my dad, it’s how he shows his daughter love.  It’s “Innocent” after all, right?  There were other things he did that were inappropriate, not a way you treat a daughter, but they were young when they had me – 23 and 24 and I guess I was some sort of love experiment.  I guess every kid is like this.  How can you expect kids to be raising kids?  But it’s what happens in this world.  Wounded people raising kids and passing on the cycle of acting inappropriately, as a way to soothe their own wounds.  So I used to feel bad for them — and I still do.  And that’s why I let things be all these years, plus I didn’t have full awareness.

But not anymore.  This time I am staying on my side.  This was wrong that this happened to me in my childhood.  For them to not listen to my yells or my tears — and then for my father to yell at me (for what he was doing wrong) and me just reacting, getting louder and louder, cause he wasn’t listening to my initial “stop its” and “get offs” — (that being related to tickles and wrestling each night that I fucking hated – that’s something you do with a boy, not a girl)

But anyway, that’s how it goes.  It’s an end of a cycle and I am mourning my childhood.  Mourning the sadness I feel for parents who didn’t listen to my feelings, didn’t care about what I was saying and as a result my power was constantly taken away.  That’s what this is all about – power.  Misuse of power.  Controlling your child.  Possibly getting off by having control of what they are feeling or saying, ignoring their cries.  Who knows and who cares.  This is not about them, it’s about me.  For once in my lifetime, again, I am feeling bad for me for being treated like this.

With the truth out — MY TRUTH – finally being acknowledged and heard, now I can mourn to injustice that was done to me.

Before MY TRUTH was always ignored and denied, so I wasn’t able to rest or feel bad for myself, sadness.  But now I can.  My mom definitely did not want to listen to what I was saying — BUT SHE HEARD IT.  For the first time ever, ohh, she heard.