I have mentioned before that this journal is a way of me dealing with my past, especially the parts that I've had locked away for quite some time. This is one of the darker parts of my past, one of the times I stopped my mother from suicide. (I've blocked a lot of this, but memory is needed to recover.)
I don't remember how old I was. I was old enough to be my mother's keeper, and in high school. I was watching my sisters, trying to keep them occupied and quiet, because mom seemed preoccupied and in a bad mood. I noticed she went outside and didn't think anything of it until I realized the mower wasn't going and she hadn't taken any laundry with her. Mom isn't one to just go outside to be outside. I tell my sisters to stay in the bedroom and stay quiet, I need to go do something. I walk outside and start looking for Mom. I find her with one of the kitchen knives sitting under their bedroom window. I sit down next to her and ask her to hand me the knife. She shakes her head and says for me not to worry, it'll all be ok. "Mom, you don't need to do this, we'll be good. Give me the knife, please." (I still hear those words in my nightmares.) "This has nothing to do with you kids. You'll be fine." "Mom, we need you here. Give me the knife." More back and forth ensued, and she finally gave me the knife. I go into the kitchen and return it, as quickly as I dared, and went back outside after making sure my sisters hadn't killed each other or the cat. I talked to her and got her back inside after she quit staring at her wrist. I never did figure out what her reason was that day. I don't know that my father ever found out. I wouldn't be surprised if the only people that knew that story until now were her and me.
*END TRIGGER WARNING*
That bright, sunny Texas afternoon still appears in my nightmares. Not very often, not as deeply buried as it is. I know it wasn't our fault, but there are days those nasty thoughts walk across my brain, less now than they used to. I know there was something in her head that pointed her that way, nothing we/ I did. Among other things, that's one of the few things I've had much trouble forgiving her for. I don't hold a grudge, far from it. I just don't trust her. I honestly think the last time I trusted her was before I hit double digits in age. I realize she would never intentionally hurt us. I also realize that her definition of hurting us and my definition are worlds apart. I spent much of my childhood trying to protect her. It should have been the other way around. I know, coulda, woulda, shoulda. I also know that child should be able to completely trust their parents. I trusted neither of them for most of my young life. I trusted them not to kill me, that was about as far as that went. Am I the fuck up I've seen in the mirror most of my life? Probably not completely. Am I that girl from that summer? That plus a few more varieties of fucked up. Should I have had to do that? Emphatically, no, but someone had to and I was the only option. I want to trust her again, I want her to be my mother and I not her keeper. I don't see that happening. I'm no longer her keeper, but it's too easy to slip back into that roll at the slightest hint of trouble. My mother hasn't been a mother since... well, since my youngest sister was born. She started pulling into her own head around that time. I figure it was post partum that spiraled worse and worse. That doesn't help calm the little girl back then who couldn't think of anyone that she could talk to. That doesn't help me now with forgiving my mother for not being one and for making me grow up too damn fast. I got tastes of childhood, more than some, I know. I didn't get a full childhood. I stopped being a kid around 9 or 10. At that point, I was consumed with being perfect, so that Mom would be happy and Dad would be happy and we could be a real family again, not the shell we projected.
I still focus on perfect, if I'm not careful. I still focus on projecting that calm, poised unruffled self if I'm not careful. I can't win against my past, but maybe I can win against my future.
Today's game plan:
-NOT write down that basal temperature. I think the tossing and turning I do as I wake up on the weekends made that one come out high.
-Hit the thrift stores for kid clothes. A friend has requested that I make her another round of appliqued clothes for her infant as he's outgrown the ones I already made him. I may also look for clothes for me, although I'm not feeling very good about my body today.
-See if Mentor wants to get together for coffee and a book exchange, so I can give her the SER. I think she's still sick, though.
-Stay primal today, always way too hard on a Saturday.
Sometimes finding some well-fitting clothing can make all the difference for body image issues. A men's size small t-shirt fits my shoulders perfectly and puts me into a slightly androgynous look. It's my favorite look, really. Today I'm wearing a striped thermal shirt (big dark and light gray stripes) that goes long enough to cover my hips and some jeans from Target that I took in below the knees for a straight fit. Somehow, it accentuates my curves just right and I feel adorable in it.
Uh, sorry for gushing ><
Hope your day is relaxing!
I found an awesome shirt at the thrift store: a steel gray button up made by one of my favorite brands that fits perfectly. Based on the fact that the shoulders are gathered and kinda pouffy and that a small fit me perfectly, this sat in someone's closet for at lest a few years.
Appliqueing and embroidering this stuff for a friend's baby almost makes me want one. Almost. Then the logical realistic part of my brain kicks in and says "no."
Appliqueing and embroidering this stuff for a friend's baby almost makes me want one. Almost. Then the logical realistic part of my brain kicks in and says "no."[/QUOTE]
Teehee. I'm reading The Better Baby Book right now, by Dave & Lana Asprey (Dave's the Bulletproof Exec guy). Lots of useful information (even if you're not looking at babies), lots of research, lots of telling my husband, "no, you can't have one right now."
Tracking my basal body temp is frustrating. After 3 days analysis, I'm averaging at 97.9, which is within "normal" range. It's been rising steadily since I started tracking, but I also know that has something to do with my cycle, although that should be depressed since I'm on the pill, right? At any rate, assuming, this trend continues, and I turn out to be within the "normal" limit, that brings the answer down to my adrenal glands being fucked up or an iodine deficiency or both. It takes the thyroid at least partially out of the picture and it becomes more an indicator, much like my cholesterol.
My sister is getting out on parole. Yee- fucking- haw. I'm of all kinds of mixed emotions on this.
After enough wheat and sugar to feed a small army this weekend (well, enough to invite my depression back and give me a zit), it's back to behaving. Thankfully, this is only a four day week and next Monday marks a new pay period.
Jealous of your 4-day week! No holidays off here until Memorial Day.
One of the perks of working for a small company in a religious area.