Things didn’t improve when I tried to discuss my sister’s situation with my dad again. He’s just in deep denial. Fortunately, I found an ally in my brother. I was really starting to fear that I was being crazy about the whole thing.
This was our FB conversation:
Me: Do you ever feel sad that Ellen’s going to abuse her kid and there’s nothing we can do to prevent it?
My brother: Nope that’s one reason why I never even want to meet it
Me: YOU TOO?! I feel the same way!! 😮
Now, to any outsider, the fact that he referred to our niece as “it” would seem bad. But my brother’s not a heartless jerk. It’s a reflection of our fears that if we care about our niece, we’ll be awash in helplessness. Best not to let her into our hearts. She’s been alive a year and a half, and neither I nor my brother have met her. This is definitely for the best.
I’ve got to accept my parents’ denial. It is what it is.
Today has been a day of rest and repose. Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed my mind slows down and I just feel distant and disconnected. I’ve probably been dissociating today, except I’m almost not aware of it. I just keep gazing at my closet door and thinking of nothing.
I haven’t been to the gym today but I’m still eating canned foods.
I feel like my dad hurt my psyche. He doesn’t understand. But maybe I don’t understand. What would it be like to have a daughter like Ellen?
My gaze just keeps going back to the closet door, and unaccountable time passes in missing chunks of nothingness.
He triggered my abuse issues by acting all intimidating. That was incredibly unkind of him and grossly thoughtless. I’m just trying to divert my thoughts, but I keep feeling humiliated. Maybe I’m supposed to feel that way for my whole life, like a punishment or a curse, or something. Constant humiliation. Hmm… I might need more EMDR. I can always bill my dad.
Too much awareness of how vulnerable kids are, of how many have been hurt by bad parenting over the decades, the centuries. Seems to burden me.
And at the same time I’m playing Words With Friends against a new opponent, and I just played QUAKES for 118 points. Triple letter on the Q, triple word. My brain is a strange thing. Other than that, I just keep staring at the closet door. I’m not sure where the time has gone since I started writing this post an hour (?) ago. Sometimes I get gobsmacked and progress comes to a screeching halt. He can apologize for the argument but he damaged my psyche.
I lived a past life in Central or South America. I had long, straight black hair, a huge nose, and wide hips. I was a female who grew up with stable, supportive parents in a loving home. I had no siblings. When I was eighteen I moved out and supported myself with my job. I had a friend at that age who was a twelve-year-old boy. He visited and stayed with me often because his parents were constantly engaged in domestic disputes which were hard for him to witness. I offered him a safe haven. We were friends.
When he turned eighteen, he moved in with me and we got married. We struggled in our marriage because of an intense inner conflict he was saddled with: he appreciated that I’d always been there for him, but he’d grown up seeing his mother being mistreated by a misogynistic husband. And so he was torn between appreciating me, versus mistreating me as he’d modeled from his parents. It was a constant source of conflict. However, we never gave up on each other and we kept at it for our whole lives, always trying to find peace. Decades passed. We remained together, forever committed to our tenuous connection.
Well, I finished narrating that tale and immediately spaced out again. Oh well.
That came to me in a dream one night, and it felt like more than a dream.
What am I doing?! I’m so spaced out. I keep gazing at my room without seeing it. I should go take my nightly sedatives. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Maybe watch The Golden Girls or Frasier.