“They say an end can be a start
Feels like I’ve been buried yet I’m still alive
It’s like a bad day that never ends
I feel the chaos around me
A thing I don’t try to deny
I’d better learn to accept that
There are things in my life that I can’t control..
The stormy days ain’t over
I’ve tried and lost know I think that I pay the cost
Now I’ve watched all my castles fall
They were made of dust, after all
Someday all this mess will make me laugh
I can’t wait, I can’t wait, I can’t wait…”
Isn’t it weird how you find yourself liking a song… A song that has no particular personal meaning to you and then all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, it applies to you. It feels like it was written just for you. Its as if someone stepped into your life and just watched, and waited. They went back in time, composed their lyrical masterpiece based on their observations, and then, somehow, the cosmos made sure you heard it. It caught on. It found a corner in the back of your mind. It sat there, in that little corner, and waited. And waited. And waited a little bit more. It collected dust, waiting until the moment you’d need it because someone or something out there knew that one day, you’d need it.
And there it is.
Right when you needed a word of encouragement. Something to remind you to persevere. That not all decisions are easy ones, but in the end, they’ll pay off. And then, its like that cosmic force has struck once again, reminding you what you can’t go back to. Like foreshadowing in a book, or deja vu. You know what you need to do, but the reality of those decisions can be hard to swallow, especially if you’re looking through the wrong pair of glasses. There’s those words that were hiding in the corner, just behind the other ones, waiting to remind you… Waiting to stop you in your tracks and prevent you from making another mistake.
“New slang when you notice the stripes, the dirt in your fries.
Hope it’s right when you die, old and bony.
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall,
Never should have called
But my head’s to the wall and I’m lonely.”
Its not easy to forgive, but its nearly impossible to forget. We are largely the product, of what we were taught. What was modeled to us. How we were treated. How we were interacted with. The neuron networks were growing and spreading, every single one recording an emotion, a response, a feeling, a thought, a hope, a fear and before we could even talk, there we were. A person. A unique individual, resulting from presence of abc and the abscence of xyz. We are that person, whether we like it or not, until we’re capable of the conscious decision to rise above how we were wired, conditioned and trained. Some people reach that point, and some never do. The decision to do it, isn’t always without consequence.
“A baby is born
Crying out for attention
The memories fade
Like looking through a fogged mirror
Decision to decisions are made and not bought
But I thought this wouldn’t hurt a lot
I guess not“
There’s never nothing left to do. There’s just nothing left that you want to do, which can be just as hard. We’re all faced with choices we don’t want to make, but we do it anyway. Not only for ourselves, or for those around us, but because we know its for the best. Despite how hard those choices are for others, as well as ourselves, to acknowledge and accept.
I spent the last two hours dancing with Ava.
It started like any other one of her who-knows-how-many-hours-long-screaming-sessions… She was starting to get worked up. She was tightening, shrieking, turning red, screaming so loud her voice would disappear mid-scream… Lately, when she goes into this fits, I feel all sorts of things. I feel so much negativity when she starts these fits… So much that sometimes I feel like I can’t think. Sometimes I step out on the porch, just for a reprieve from the ear-splitting screams.
Dread. Fear. Anger. Frustration. Helplessness.
But this time, I just looked at her. I had set her down, feeling the tenseness creeping up into my own arms. The tenseness resulting from frustration. The kind of frustration that makes you want to scream. So I had set her down in a blanket, but this time, I just looked at her. Her little face was cherry red, crocodile tears spilling out of each eye, her hands shaking, her fingers grasping, reaching for who-knows-what. Her heart was broken, her world was ending, she was alone, and worst of all, she didn’t know why she felt the way she did. All she knew, was that those feelings were there and there was nothing she could do to stop them. And then I realized…
She’s just like me.
Her heart is broken and she doesn’t know why. She knows what she needs, but she doesn’t know how to ask for it, and she can’t put a name to it. Even though there’s someone right there she feels alone. Utterly and terribly alone. If she can’t see me, even for a split second, that aloneness turns into abandonment and desolation. Her heart is breaking and her body is reacting. She can’t help the tears. What started as something small, maybe even something minute and now obsolete, has now escalated into hopelessness and despair. That feeling is so overwhelming, so gut-wrenching, so awful, she shakes and sobs and cries out of desperation, out of longing for something, and finally out of defeat.
We’re feeling the same things. Though, we’re feeling those things for different reasons I’m sure, those deep, rooted emotions, and the literal feeling those emotions provoke… They are one in the same. She cries out, hoping for someone to save her, someone to rescue her from the overwhelming emotional turmoil, someone to help her. For her, there’s hope. For her, she believes and hopes that someone is there for her. Someone loves her and cares and will make it all better. I’ve been conditioned not to. When I cried out, I was often met with hostility, contempt, ridicule and amusement. Crying out was the Achille’s heel; nothing more than exposing my weakest point, offering myself up for humiliation and degradation.
It was at this moment, seeing her like this, that I realized how alike the two of us are. It was at this moment, seeing her in this light, seeing myself in this light, that I realize how damaging the way I was treated was to my future relationships. I realize how that treatment has affected me even now. I see how much it hurts, and I see how easy of a cycle it could be to continue.
I will never let her feel that way on my account. Regardless of why the pain is there, pain is pain, emotional, mental, physicial. She won’t be forced to internalize it out of fear of what I’ll say or do. She won’t be ridiculed and mocked for her sadness, her fear, her longing, her upset…
I just want her to have a better life than me.
So I picked her up. I held her close, and the two of us dance. We danced. I rubbed her hair, put my cheek to hers, and sung softly in her ear. I was there for her, and that won’t ever change. I held her like that for nearly two hours. My homework could wait. The cleaning could wait. Sleeping could wait. She needed me, and I wasn’t going to let her down.
Just her and I.
Honey and the moon.
I’m feeling a lot better now.
I spent quite a bit of time reading over narcissistic personality disorder… A lot of time… Not just articles… Psychology texts… Books written by professionals… Everything I could get my hands on… And it describes everything I have endured with her to a T. A narcissistic is, by themselves, difficult to handle. A narcissistic mother, is impossible. And it seems that the experts all agree on one thing. The only way to deal with a narcissist is to not. Cut them out, be done and move on, because they won’t change. They guise the manipulation as concern. They mask the attacks as indifference. And if all else fails, they resort to self-pity and helpless victimhood.
I know, I’ve quoted this article before, mostly in passing, but the more I read and the more I learn, the more I begin to see how blatantly obvious it should have been… But that’s the amazing thing about narcissists. They’re so skilled, thought out, and quick, that they leave others in disbelief that they could ever be anything less than splendid.
“Narcisstic mothers do not have children for the same reasons the rest of us do…. They have children so that the children will love them unconditionally, not the other way around. They have children to do things for them. They have children to reflect their false images. They have children to use, abuse and control them….For the narcissistic mother, each step away from her is an absolute act of betrayal….they train their children to believe that they are the ideal mother. Any evidence to the contrary is to be kept secret at all costs. They will behave much differently toward their children in public than they do at home…. Narcissistic mothers don’t stop being narcissists when their children become adults….These mothers steal their kids’ childhoods, identities and future healthy relationships. They will keep on taking and sucking the life out of their children for as long as they live, if their children allow it.“
No matter how many times I have read that single post over the last few years… It always hits me and hits me hard. Sometimes its eye-opening. Sometimes its nauseating. Sometimes its comforting. Knowing that this isn’t my fault.
In a family with a narcissistic mother, there’s a few crucial roles, and different members of the family play out different roles. There is, of course, the narcisstic, dominating all of the family dynamics and functions. Then, of the children, there are usually two different “types.” Sometimes there’s more than one child that fits the label, but there’s the “golden child” and the scapegoat. The scapegoat and the golden child are nearly identical. They both have that fear of the narcissist mother. They’ve both been trained. They both know the consequences of displeasing the narcissistic mother. The difference between the two however, is that the golden child will do whatever it takes to please the narcissist, even if means sacrificing his or her own happiness, sanity or priorities to do so, thus becoming the favored child. The scapegoat however, has given up in their attempts to please, and usually lies at the end of the narcissistic rage, and all of the narcissist’s [problems are the scapegoat’s fault.
The control does not end at adulthood.
The narcissist has had plenty of time to perfect their craft. They have learned how to push buttons and have conditioned their child into bending to them, no matter how it will affect the child personally. Unless you have dealt with one, it’s hard to understand how deep the disorder lies, and how twisted and complicated the actions behind it are. This article gives a brief summary on some of the characteristics of a narcissistic mother.
To sum it up…
“Everything she does is deniable. She violates your boundaries. She favoritizes. She undermines. She demeans, criticizes and denigrates. She makes you look crazy. She’s envious. She’s a liar in too many ways to count. She has to be the center of attention all the time. She manipulates your emotions in order to feed on your pain. She’s selfish and willful. She’s self-absorbed. She is insanely defensive and is extremely sensitive to any criticism. She terrorized. She’s infantile and petty. She’s aggressive and shameless. She shed her responsibilities to you as soon as she was able. She’s exploitative. She projects. She is never wrong about anything. She seems to have no awareness that other people even have feelings. She blames. She destroys your relationships. As a last resort she goes pathetic.”
If you have the time though, it really is worth reading through that website. It was incredibly eye-opening and prompted even further reading.
I came up with a sad, although accurate metaphor to describe the situation.
A narcissist is drowning. She refuses to learn to swim and longs for someone to save her. The problem is, she’ll drown anyone who comes close enough to help. You are left with two options, leave her there to drown, or drown alongside her. Both decisions are painful. Both decisions hurt. But only one decision is preserving.
It may be sad, but it’s true, and that is why the guilt will no longer eat away at me. Cyndi, at So Much More Than A Mom, sums it up perfectly when she says, “It is incredibly difficult and painful…. she raised you to blame yourself for everything. But it is necessary to put the blame where it rightfully belongs.”
And that is what I will do.
And more importantly, I feel good about the decision. It wasn’t easy to make, but it feels like a weight has been lifted, and that despite the pain it causes, its for the better.For me, and for my children. As Cyndi said… The behavior does not stop once the child reaches adulthood. It will continue throughout the child’s life, or until the child no longer allows it. There is no middle ground. There is no playing nice. In the world of the narcissist, it is all or none. They’re playing a game, and there is only one rule; they will win at all costs.
I’m okay, when I’m not alone. And by alone I mean, just me and kids. When Dan’s here… I’m okay. When Bre’s here, I’m okay.
I’m just so depressed lately. I get left alone with the kids, all by myself and it’s like… I can’t find the energy, or the motivation, or drive to do anything. I just sit here thinking… And thinking. I don’t want to do anything, but I know I have to. I have so much crap piling up that needs done… Like laundry, cat litter, finishing a couple sewing projects, cleaning out my bedroom… Of course, which Dan started complaining about once I fixed the kitchen and living room, which he had been complaining about before he started complaining about the bedroom…. I know he doesn’t mean it like that… but it just feels like… Nothing is ever good enough.
He tells me to relax if I want, but he doesn’t understand. I can’t relax amidst chaos, and a cluttered, messy house with chores undone, is chaos. It just stresses me out more.
It just sucks. I have one of the most stressful and emotional events of my life, and it’s like… I’m expected to just keep giving and giving and giving, and there’s no shortage of people wanting to take and take and take. Sometimes I just wish I could walk out the door and leave for a few days… A few weeks. Just leave and do what I want to do. Uninterupted peace, order and neatness. Unfortunately, I can’t. There is no shortage of wanting or taking from me… And there never will be.
Even at my worst, and lowest point, there’s still no shortage of people wanting more…
But what am I supposed to do when I feel like there’s nothing left to give? Nothing left for them to take?
During this journey to find my father, not even just the recent events, but the entire journey, I have encountered a lot of negativity… A lot of resistance. People don’t understand the emotions this has left me with. The things I’ve had to deal with. They don’t understand why and I want to find my father so badly. They don’t understand, and for most people, I don’t blame them for not understanding. They aren’t in my shoes. Most people, even those with an absent father, still can’t liken their situation enough to what mine is and has been, to a point that they could understand.
A few people in my family are really upset with me. I understand why they’re upset, but I don’t understand why they are unsupporting and apprehensive. They warn me that I’ll “alienate” those who have been there for me so far… But if I’m truly loved as much as they say I am, then this shouldn’t be something that would cause them to love me less or alienate me. If you love someone, and truly love someone, you’re there for them when they face these life-altering situations. You care enough to help them, even if you know the journey will hurt them, but that they’d rather risk the hurt of knowing, than the hurt of not. You don’t abandon them, or get angry with them.
You’re there for them.
People tell me to appreciate the family I do have, as if by finding my father, I’ll throw the family I had growing up into the trash. My family wasn’t very functional and I never stayed in the same spot very long (either my mother or my grandparents), but it doesn’t mean there aren’t good memories. There was a lot of hurt, a lot of anger, and a lot of pain caused to me unnecessarily, but it doesn’t mean there wasn’t any good either. What I can’t understand, is how people, my family or others, could possibly think that I’m throwing that all away. Love isn’t something you have a set number of that you must divide between those in your life… Love is something that grows, and continues to grow, the more people you have in your life that mean something to you.
If I have a two children, a toddler and a newborn I haven’t even yet held or laid eyes on, and my newborn is kidnapped, you wouldn’t tell me “Well, at least you still have the other one… Besides, the baby doesn’t even know you and has no memories of you.” It’s the same thing. Just because I want to find the child I never laid eyes on, doesn’t make the child I still have worth any less. And despite how much I love the child I still have, it doesn’t mean the other child isn’t still missing and that void isn’t there.
Just because I want to find my father, doesn’t mean I love my mother any less. My mother and I have a lot of issues, and a lot of them are resulting from my younger years. Can I change how I feel about those things? Maybe over time, but I haven’t had that time, or that help to work through and grieve for those events and those shortcomings, or those areas I felt I was failed. I don’t disagree when she says she did the best she could with what she had been handed. It’s never easy being a mom and some people get a harder hand to work with than others. Yes, I am thankful that she chose life, instead of having an abortion, but in her choice to have me, she was accepting the possibility that this would eventually come up, and it has, many times now.
As many others, I didn’t have the typical childhood, and as far as I can tell, neither did my mother. No matter what her story may have been, it doesn’t change what mine is. I can empathize with her, if I knew the story, but it still won’t change how I feel about my own. My story is mine to live, and the choices I choose to make, might differ than the choices someone else may choose to make in a similar situation.
Everyone is different.
You can’t always explain a desire. You can’t always explain how you know something or why you feel a certain way. There are some things in life you just can’t explain, but you know are right for you and for your situation. For me, one of those things is finding my father.
Yes, I’m prepared.
I keep hearing the same thing from people. “What if he’s not who you think?” “What if he’s a disappointment?” “What if you don’t like what you find?” That isn’t what this is about. I’ve thought nearly every situation I can think of, and good or bad, I still want to know. He could be a banker, a bank robber, a lawyer, a loser, an average guy, a business owner, a relative, a rapist, a fry cook, a death row inmate. It doesn’t matter what he is. I’ve imaging the best, but mostly the worst. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I want to know, because to me, knowing is better than not knowing.
I tend to be pessimistic. I think, it’s because whenever I’m optimistic, things never work out in my favor or the way I hope they would. I try, I really do, but it seems like nothing helps. All the good vibes, positive energy, prayers and meditation in the world can’t help me. It’s as if I’m just a magnet for everything awful.
The results from the DNA test came in today.
When I first got the test, I was expecting that… but I started getting hopeful. These people were so positive, and happy, and encouraging… I so wanted to be part of that. It would have been amazing. I was so hopeful that this was it. That this never-ending search would finally come to an end. That at the end of this week, I wouldn’t be sitting her wondering, waiting, still looking for answers to these questions, that some man out there doesn’t even know exist. Questions that will continue to gnaw at me until they’re finally answered and put to rest.
I feel awful for me… But…
I feel awful for them.
These people were so nice, so sweet, so open-hearted, warm and accepting. They wanted me. They wanted it to be positive. They were hoping, and crossing their fingers just as much as I was. The entire family. And now, they’re just as heart-broken as I am. I know how it feels. I know how bad it hurts. I know how terrible and life-shattering it is… And I feel like a god awful person for putting them through this. I feel horrible for getting their hopes up. I was honest about the possibility from the get-go, but it doesn’t ease the guilt I feel any. I feel guilty, knowing that I put someone through almost the exact same agony, I’ve been experiencing my entire life. For that, apologies will never come close, but all I can do is say I’m so sorry.
I know people feel bad for me.
And so do I. But some of the things people are saying… hurt. I know they mean well… but…
“Maybe it’s just not the right time.”
There is no right time. If there was, that time would have been 22+ years ago, and is long over due. There is no such thing as a “right” time. I’m picking up the pieces of a mess someone else made, and I don’t even have the full puzzle. I’m doing the best I can with what I have available, but it’s just not enough. I just keep looking and looking and looking, but never finding the answers. There will never be a “right” time, because the right time has already passed.
“You’ll find him eventually.”
Eventually? Eventually doesn’t help. Eventually can mean anything. Eventually, we all die. It doesn’t mean I want to die tomorrow. Or hell, he could die tomorrow. I don’t want to eventually find him stumbling across his obituary. I’ve been wanting to find him my entire life. That’s over 22 years. And I’ve been searching every possible way I know how for the last five years… As long as I’ve had names to go off of. Eventually doesn’t help. Eventually hurts. Eventually is indefinite. Eventually could be never.
“You still have family that loves you. Isn’t that enough?”
Of course I love my family, strengths and weaknesses and all… But it doesn’t negate the fact that something so monumental is missing. If someone had a child go missing, or die or something awful, you wouldn’t tell them “At least you have other children who love you!” It’s the same thing… Just because I have people in my life that love and care for me, doesn’t negate the fact that someone is missing. Whether they care about me, want me or not… They’re still missing. And even just knowing can help close that closet and heal that wound. At least then, I’ll know. He’ll know. And there won’t be any unanswered questions.
“Well, my dad left when I was x-age”
I’m sorry. I really am. But you know who your dad is. He knows who you are. He knows you exist. He knows you’re there. It sucks he bailed out, but it isn’t the same.
I’m not trying to be mean when I say these things. I know people mean well… But it doesn’t help. There really isn’t anything anyone can say or do, aside from miraculously finding him for me… that will help. Tell me you’re sorry, fine. But please, don’t make me feel worse. I know you don’t mean anything bad by it… But it hurts and I’m such an emotional hurricane right now, I don’t want to respond in a way that will hurt you too.
Angry. Hurt. Resentful. Sad. Traumatized.
This is something I’ve always been angry at my mother for. Yes, she made mistakes. No, she can’t fix them. But just because she made a mistake, doesn’t mean she can’t help rectify the situation. This isn’t about her. I don’t care how whoever it was treated her or what whoever it was said to her. I just want to know. This isn’t about her or how she feels about the situation. This is about ME. Unfortunately however, I find myself alone on this one again. It’s all left to me. Again.
So, afer five years of searching… I’m back where I started…
I feel like shit.
1. Terry’s family was so nice and so excited… I feel bad about their disappointment… They’re amazing and I’ll keep in touch… but my search continues…
2. I’m pretty much back to square one.
Who knows how long this will take… another five years? Another fifty?
I feel like everytime I get my hopes up, they just get crushed.
This will likely be the last blog post I make before I find out if the test results are negative or positive.
I was ready to know Friday, but now that it’s Tuesday… It’s D-day, so to speak. We’re either going to come out of this victorious, or walk away defeated.
And both are terrifying.
If it’s positive… I don’t know if I’ll be able to believe it… I don’t know how I’ll handle that… After all… I’ve been searching for so long, and searching so hard… How would I have ever guessed that I actually would find him one day? Just seems to defy the natural order of all the things that can be my daily life… i.e. nothing going right, especially when I need it to.
If it’s negative… Well, the only silver lining is that this always happens to me… I get my hopes up, and start thinking positive, only for it to be crushed like a tiny little pansy, poking up through the sidewalk cracks.
Both answers, I think, are going to be difficult for me to swallow.
I went to my GP yesterday. I tried to get into a counselor, just for an urgent-type visit, but no one was open for weeks, and an appointment several weeks out isn’t going to help me, so I scheduled with the GP. She got me in really quickly and when she came in, I actually talked about it in depth with her. Sure, I’ve wrote some of my feelings out… But I haven’t actually said them aloud to anyone. Mostly because I don’t think anyone knows what to say… I tried to talk to Dan but he seemed really unsure of how to react and I didn’t want to lay that on him.
My GP was great though. I hope she wasn’t busy because she spent a good chunk of time in there with me. She prescribed me some valium, wished me well and gave me a hug. Took some last night, because she told me to, especially if I couldn’t sleep… I didn’t realize how bad that stuff knocks you out. I fell asleep sitting up with a cup in my hand on the couch and Bre and Dan telling me to go get in bed…
But for the first time in the last couple weeks, I slept.
Of course, I had several dreams. All of which I remember. And all of which revolve around my impending DNA results.
The first one was strange… I was sitting in this hotel lobby looking place, but it was a clinic… and you could see this pool inside of some glass windows, and when they called yur name you had to swim to get the results… but the water was boiling hot. I asked if I could skip the swimming because I don’t swim well, and I had Ava strapped to me and the clerk blew up at me and told me my results would be the absolute last… and there were hundreds ahead of me…
The next one, I was at a girl’s house that I don’t particularly like… Maddi and Danny were inside and getting into all this nasty garbage all over the trailer and I kept lecturing them not to… There were a lot of people there… And a lot of drugs. I kept checking my phone waiting for a call, and I never got one. All of a sudden, I realized I couldn’t find Ava… I went back outside and realized she had gotten out of her car seat somehow, and was facedown on the floor, screaming bloody murder, most likely for hours before I found her. When I got her, I went back in to grab Maddi and Danny and couldn’t find them anywhere.
Then, in another, I was waiting for the phone call… Waiting and waiting… I logged on to Facebook, only to see a picture of the potential father and his wife holding this long, rectangular red piece of paper… Captioned “Sorry! Negative!”
And they all felt real.
I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to do it, but at this point, all I can do is wait… and hope that my heard doesn’t explode.
It’s kind of hard to stay positive right now… But I have a few positive things going on….
I got all of my sewing totes and craft area organized… Looks really good and everything is easy to access now! Makes it faster for me to finish projects now!
We found Ava’s umbilical cord… That was a weird story. I had lost it and don’t know how… I cried for almost five hours, tearing my house apart to find it…. And nothing. Then, a few weeks later (two days ago) I’m on the phone and Bre about tackles Danny because he came out of the kitchen with it… We still have no idea where it had been and Maddi just kept calling it the “Big Scary Snake.” Surprisingly it hadn’t broken or cracked or anything…
I finally made my Chanel-inspired mei-tai that I’ve been thinking about making for a while now… I’ve been planning on making a mei-tai for about a year now… but only had a design in mind for the last month or so… Turned out cuter than I thought it would!
So yeah… There’s some positive, I guess.
Right now, I don’t even know if there are words for how I’m holding up… I was okay before, but now, I’ve hit a low and I haven’t seemed to be able to pull out of it. We were supposed to know the results by Friday… But instead, we’re forced to wait until Tuesday…
I don’t even know what to do or say.
It’s been so hard to keep cool and not turn into an anxious mess just waiting until Friday. I know it’s only four days more… But this is something I have been waiting my entire life for, and have been searching and searching the best I know how to for the last five years. And they make us wait even longer.
I still don’t know what I will do… Positive or negative. Even if its positive, I don’t really know if it will change anything, aside from giving me the peace of knowing, and finding the answers to where that part of me came from. It will bring some closure and healing to an old wound. If its negative… At least I met some great people, formed some friendships, and will keep in touch with, despite the disappointment.
But for now…
I’m depressed. Anxious. Afraid. Nervous. Dreadful. Scared. Alone.
Monday, I might call around and see if any counselors could get me in on a really quick basis… I just want to talk about it and perhaps get some help preparing for either result…
I just feel so alone.