I am very angry with myself. I don't like being so needy. I don't like the effect Sandi and John have on me. I thought they were my parents. I found out that they are not. I am treated differently than their children and I respond to them differently than their children. Their children seem to have an understanding that no matter how angry they get with each other, or how much they disagree, or argue, that they will always love each other. I do not have this trust in Sandi and John. And they do not have the love for me that they do for their boys.
I feel the disgust that they feel towards me, and I hear the words they say to me about us not having anything in common except the fact that I am the wife of their son and the mother of their grandchildren, and I feel the complete rejection that those words imply. They do not feel a connection to me. They only felt connected to the actions that I was taking. Now that I do not take those actions, I am no longer welcome as part of their emotional family circle.
The rejection I feel from that hurts. Cuts my heart into ribbons. Destroys any desire to allow myself to feel warmth for them. It deadens any hope that I had for having parents that love me unconditionally.
I have been doing my damndest to build up my emotional strength to be able to handle that dream being crushed.
Unfortunately,continued contact with them, and continued arguing exposes me to my vulnerability. Then dad tells me that I can trust him. And that he loves me. And that little girl in me pulls on my sleeves crying and screaming, "Believe them, believe in them!! I need a mom and a dad who love me!" Despite her voice, I hold it together, telling my little girl that I can be all that she needs as a parent. And I feel stronger. I feel more grown up.
Until my husband tells me that I should trust that they love me, and accept the abuse that I feel coming from them as something unintended, and my resolve melts in my tears. The little girl surfaces in my heart, and I feel crushed once again. I am so tired of being yanked from one extreme emotion to another. I just want to be loved. Why is that so hard?
I feel like singing the Dora theme song... I did it, I did it. But not really an excited I did it. Just a satisfied I did it.
I just got off the phone with Mom Schooling. I was able to work through my feelings (that I wrote about above) this morning. I had such a wall up going to sleep, because I just didn't have the strength to be hurt anymore. When I woke up, I felt it. A wall blocking my True Self from being. Or at least making it a huge struggle to show my True Self through the veil of my bitter hurt. I wanted to get angry at myself for being weak enough to be hurt. But since I know now that I need to have compassion on myself, I used Susan's suggested method of going inside and talking to the part of me that is hurt. I pictured myself at 15 or 16 years old. I remember a pic of me with my pink glasses on and a white/mint green jacket, in Crystal's bedroom. My hair was in a barrette and hanging down my shoulders, chest length, and it was one of my 'looking good without makeup' days. I was a teenager wanting so badly to be loved, and that teenager was the one feeling hurt last night when James re-opened my wound by telling me that he thinks his parents do love me.
Deep, deep down, at some extremely base level of my soul, I know that. But it is so hard to get in touch with the trust in that when my teenage soul is crying out, "I just want to be shown that I am loved! I want to be trusted! That is how I feel loved! And when they are telling me how I should parent my kids, godammit, especially in front of me! I feel like they see me as a child! I need to be seen and loved and trusted as an adult!" Occasionally I see remnants of the love that they used to show me come through to me. But that isn't the kind of love that I need from them now. I need a new, peer, trust kind of love. I guess I am going to have to be the one to show them that.
Maybe, like Travis is the barometer for our family's children,... maybe I am the barometer for their family's children. I am the one with the combination of the most sensitivity (meaning the most in touch with ones inner Self), and the need/guts to be honest about it. Maybe I will bring in a new era of understanding to this family.... Aided by James of course, because I'm not sure that I could have come to this point without his verbal and emotional help. And I'll try not to hold that against him. The fact that I couldn't do it without his help I mean. Because in my old life rulebook, if I couldn't do it on my own, then I wasn't good enough. I guess I'm going to have to struggle with that one and re-write it.
Anyway, I hugged myself, right there in my bed this morning, and pictured the adult me, the one that I've grown up into, putting my arms around the teenage me, and trying to reassure her. I talked both girls roles out verbally. Teenage Me didn't want to talk at first, so I just held her, and told her to cry it out. She did a lot of crying last night, so all that came out were a few hot tears slipping down her cheeks following the slow build up of that pin pricky stuffed up nose, throat tightening feeling humans get when they begin to cry. I just held her for a while, and allowed the hurt to flow through. Then I (Adult Me) told her that I was here to be the one she could lean on for unconditional love. I am strong enough for her. She doesn't need to feel like she has to handle this emotional load. She can go to sleep and rest.
And Adult Me is able to see my inlaws good intentions, through the veil of Teenage Me's hurt. When Teenage Me goes to sleep, Adult Me has a clearer emotional picture. My mother in law has the same hurts and fears from her childhood that I do. Bravo and Kudos to me for being the one to work through them first. And thank you Unschoolers for your help in challenging me to think through my beliefs.
I am healing. I feel a small growing hope that maybe our extended family will grow emotionally as a result of all of this conflict. My inlaws will quite possibly be forced to re-examine their beliefs. Their love for us will not allow them to run from us, or push us, when we stand up for what we believe in. And even voicing that hope, that possibility, is a step forward.
I feel the disgust that they feel towards me, and I hear the words they say to me about us not having anything in common except the fact that I am the wife of their son and the mother of their grandchildren, and I feel the complete rejection that those words imply. They do not feel a connection to me. They only felt connected to the actions that I was taking. Now that I do not take those actions, I am no longer welcome as part of their emotional family circle.
The rejection I feel from that hurts. Cuts my heart into ribbons. Destroys any desire to allow myself to feel warmth for them. It deadens any hope that I had for having parents that love me unconditionally.
I have been doing my damndest to build up my emotional strength to be able to handle that dream being crushed.
Unfortunately,continued contact with them, and continued arguing exposes me to my vulnerability. Then dad tells me that I can trust him. And that he loves me. And that little girl in me pulls on my sleeves crying and screaming, "Believe them, believe in them!! I need a mom and a dad who love me!" Despite her voice, I hold it together, telling my little girl that I can be all that she needs as a parent. And I feel stronger. I feel more grown up.
Until my husband tells me that I should trust that they love me, and accept the abuse that I feel coming from them as something unintended, and my resolve melts in my tears. The little girl surfaces in my heart, and I feel crushed once again. I am so tired of being yanked from one extreme emotion to another. I just want to be loved. Why is that so hard?
I feel like singing the Dora theme song... I did it, I did it. But not really an excited I did it. Just a satisfied I did it.
I just got off the phone with Mom Schooling. I was able to work through my feelings (that I wrote about above) this morning. I had such a wall up going to sleep, because I just didn't have the strength to be hurt anymore. When I woke up, I felt it. A wall blocking my True Self from being. Or at least making it a huge struggle to show my True Self through the veil of my bitter hurt. I wanted to get angry at myself for being weak enough to be hurt. But since I know now that I need to have compassion on myself, I used Susan's suggested method of going inside and talking to the part of me that is hurt. I pictured myself at 15 or 16 years old. I remember a pic of me with my pink glasses on and a white/mint green jacket, in Crystal's bedroom. My hair was in a barrette and hanging down my shoulders, chest length, and it was one of my 'looking good without makeup' days. I was a teenager wanting so badly to be loved, and that teenager was the one feeling hurt last night when James re-opened my wound by telling me that he thinks his parents do love me.
Deep, deep down, at some extremely base level of my soul, I know that. But it is so hard to get in touch with the trust in that when my teenage soul is crying out, "I just want to be shown that I am loved! I want to be trusted! That is how I feel loved! And when they are telling me how I should parent my kids, godammit, especially in front of me! I feel like they see me as a child! I need to be seen and loved and trusted as an adult!" Occasionally I see remnants of the love that they used to show me come through to me. But that isn't the kind of love that I need from them now. I need a new, peer, trust kind of love. I guess I am going to have to be the one to show them that.
Maybe, like Travis is the barometer for our family's children,... maybe I am the barometer for their family's children. I am the one with the combination of the most sensitivity (meaning the most in touch with ones inner Self), and the need/guts to be honest about it. Maybe I will bring in a new era of understanding to this family.... Aided by James of course, because I'm not sure that I could have come to this point without his verbal and emotional help. And I'll try not to hold that against him. The fact that I couldn't do it without his help I mean. Because in my old life rulebook, if I couldn't do it on my own, then I wasn't good enough. I guess I'm going to have to struggle with that one and re-write it.
Anyway, I hugged myself, right there in my bed this morning, and pictured the adult me, the one that I've grown up into, putting my arms around the teenage me, and trying to reassure her. I talked both girls roles out verbally. Teenage Me didn't want to talk at first, so I just held her, and told her to cry it out. She did a lot of crying last night, so all that came out were a few hot tears slipping down her cheeks following the slow build up of that pin pricky stuffed up nose, throat tightening feeling humans get when they begin to cry. I just held her for a while, and allowed the hurt to flow through. Then I (Adult Me) told her that I was here to be the one she could lean on for unconditional love. I am strong enough for her. She doesn't need to feel like she has to handle this emotional load. She can go to sleep and rest.
And Adult Me is able to see my inlaws good intentions, through the veil of Teenage Me's hurt. When Teenage Me goes to sleep, Adult Me has a clearer emotional picture. My mother in law has the same hurts and fears from her childhood that I do. Bravo and Kudos to me for being the one to work through them first. And thank you Unschoolers for your help in challenging me to think through my beliefs.
I am healing. I feel a small growing hope that maybe our extended family will grow emotionally as a result of all of this conflict. My inlaws will quite possibly be forced to re-examine their beliefs. Their love for us will not allow them to run from us, or push us, when we stand up for what we believe in. And even voicing that hope, that possibility, is a step forward.
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