Fragile, we are

"Shattered" by janosnovak

Resentment has a funny way of creeping up at the worst times. The weight of it can shatter whole relationships.

What’s worst, however, is when a family member chooses you as their target for hate, violence, anger, and just an all around vicious attitude…because of resentment.

You try to determine what went wrong.  You make every effort to rebuild a relationship full of support and love, but it’s always thwarted by them.

They don’t want it. They want nothing to do with you.  In fact, they wish you weren’t around in the first place.

That’s hard to hear, given that you’re still not sure exactly why they feel that way towards you.

“What did I do?” you ask.

“Everything is your fault!” they shout back.  “You’re always judging me, criticizing me, telling me what to do!” they go on.

You kind of stare at the them in bewiddlerment, because despite what they seem to so vehemently believe….NONE OF THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

And then they get mean. Real mean. And then, you snap.

I think a human being can really be pushed to the brink of psychosis.  I’ve never experienced that myself—the psychosis bit–but I was close (no, not that close). I get it now.

I’m what you consider the punching bag of the family. I was the eldest, and the heaviest of my sisters, and for whatever reason, I was treated as if my emotions were as thick as the fat on my body.  It’s not…not even close…not even in the slightest.

I’ve forgiven my parents. I’m letting them make amends.  It’s a process, it’s not always easy, but we’re trying.

My sisters, however, the dainty little flowers that they’ve always been treated as, were afforded far too much, and because of how I was treated by my parents, they simply took on those behavioral patterns…and so I was treated badly, as a result.

I state this so matter-of-factly, but there is a lot of resentment there.  An entire universe of it.

What strikes me is that I’ve been chosen as their sole target for resentment as well.

Let me state exactly. I have two sisters, both are contributing citizens to society, both (I’m sure) are good people.  But one is cruel, and one is trying to treat me better.

This post comes on the heal of a fight I just had with the cruel one…and we’ll refer to her as Dr.Cruella (can you guess why?).  The other I will refer to as Mother Theresa.

Three sisters. We are not close.  Not from my lack of trying.  I’ve tried.  I’ve tried very hard.  But you can’t build a relationship, with all that garbage in the background. All that stink.  It permeates every facet of our lives.

My parents tried.  In their own meager way, they tried. And they made whoppers of mistakes along the way.  They kind of remind me of children that never really grew up.  They were around abuse as well.  With my dad almost killed by the beatings he would receive from his dad. It doesn’t surprise me that their development was arrested at a certain age. My mom acts like she’s still a 12 year old, and my dad…barely having left 7 years.

My mom was always the pretty girl, and didn’t really know what to make of me.  I was the heavy child, and I remember from the age 5, being put on diets, and distinctly being aware that I was a fat girl.

Stress of moving from another country took its toll on my parents.  I’m sure our family unit would be very different had I been raised in Egypt, but we move to the land of opportunity, as so many foreigners believe.

So much opportunity, and possibility…anything can happen.  That doesn’t mean that anything would be a good thing.

I saw, heard, and endured a lot.

I have friends that try to be sympathetic when I tell them my story. You, my dear reader, have not even gotten the top of the iceberg. My friends have been wonderful, and great therapy for me. But even they will suppress the urge to roll their eyes, when I get into another of my personal diatribes. I love them still. I understand.

But it’s the resentment that kills relationships.  I’m sure I could have just simply avoided fighting with Dr.Cruella.  But resentment is also like a train that has no breaks, once it passes through, you can’t stop it…until it’s too late.

I’m beginning to accept my family as they are.  I’m also making peace with never developing any relationship with Dr.Cruella.   In fact, that decision was made for me, when she not only acknowledged the fact that she knows she’s awful, but that she does not care to work on any kind of reconciliation.  It hurts to hear it, but there really is nothing else I can do. I can’t make amends with a person I haven’t wronged.  She has her issues, and sees her therapist and takes her meds. Everything she’s supposed to do, and still…

I remember reading that you should never give up on loving someone.  But if someone like Dr.Cruella only seems to bring pain in your life, and regards you as a lesser being in their eyes, I think for the sake of your own sanity, you just let them go.  Even if they are your sister, mother, brother, and especially your friend.  There are so many people in this world, friends who have loved me, and cared for me more than my own family has.  There is nothing else to be done.

I hope she finds a way to work through whatever it is she’s coping with.  I unfortunately do not have warm and fuzzy feelings towards Dr.Cruella, and while I do not wish her harm, or failure, I do not care wish her anything else.

Shattered it may be with some, but that’s why we marry, and bear our own children.  We create our own family units, and hope that we do it right.  I just hope I learn the lessons of my mother and father, and a couple of my own.  My family unit, while I’m sure not perfect, will be full of love, acceptance, and support.  And that’s all a person can ask for.

That’s all I ask for.

“You’ve got to pray, just to make it today…”-MC Hammer

What is it about getting older that just subdues the soul? Everything seems…easier. I’m less clumsy. I’m less frazzled. And while I may let my emotions come to the fore, it doesn’t bring me under.

I’m simply in control.

This incident with my failing exam grade would have normally devastated me. So much work. So much time invested. And then the shocker…I still failed.

But I didn’t let the failure kill my spirit, because in the grand scheme things…I didn’t fail. I only got a low score on that one exam.

I suddenly see the tree, and don’t equate to the entire forest burning down. One tree going down, does not kill an entire forest. One failed exam, will not kill my entire grade.

What a revelation!

I finally get it.

But I must admit…this is much attributed to my new found tension releaser of all time: prayer.

I pray everyday.

I’m stressed, I pray.

I’m worried, I pray.

I’m overwhelmed, I pray.

I see a friend in emotional distress, I pray.

I pray because I’m happy. I pray to chase away the sad days.

And in it all, in the last few months, I noticed a change in my life that I can only say is short of a miracle.

My life blossomed. My attitude changed. And as a result, everything changed.

My boyfriend, whom I will refer to from now on as my Beloved Stubborn Southern seems skeptical. He notices a change, but to him, prayer is as valid an explanation, as death caused by voodoo. I understand his sense of disbelief, but with all of the anguish, and turmoil and emotional upheavals I’ve experienced in my life (the last 30 years of it, I’d like to add), I just can’t ignore all these amazing benefits of prayer.

Who do I pray to, you may ask?

Well, for me, it’s God.

Who do you write to when you address your journal?

Dear Diary? Same concept, different label.

I was deeply spiritual when I was a child, all the way on up to the age of 16. I used to have such a deep love and reverence for God, and I felt that he was as real as my pulse.

I then began my trek through atheism, often feeling miserable and empty. My love for God slowly began to dwindle, until I literally killed any and all emotional ties with the concept, and God just became a distant memory.

But it seemed that by abandoning prayer, I inadvertently cut off my sole source of inner calm and peace.

I began to look outside myself for the solutions, which went on to kill my inner self in the process.

I became skeptical. I questioned everything. I killed the meaning of every moment, dismissed amazing experiences, down played all the wondrous occasions in my life…all for what? Because God didn’t exist.

So many years later, the cost of turning my back on God, and thus myself, had taken its full toll. Those who have known me personally, has seen the effect it has had on me. I don’t care to reiterate. Lets just say, that practically every facet of my life was shutting down…until now.

This really is a topic that deserves several blog posts, but for now, I will conclude with this. I pray to a God, but I’m not sure what or who is out there. I just pray. I wait. I listen, and watch very carefully to whatever hints, clues, help is being sent my way. It has, thus far, led me to a peaceful place in my life. Frenzied, I am, no longer. I am simply calm, and open. Because I pray.