Thursday, May 16, 2013

Seeing a man pee and Daddy issues

My life isn't boring.  Never a dull moment, that's for sure.

Had a nice lunch today with a new friend I've known for 3 years and finally got to let myself know and I really enjoy her company.  As I've posted before, I've lost some friends lately, but old friendships have been made stronger and new friendships are blooming and that makes me happy.

Had an appt with my therapist today and it's a love/hate relationship.  There is something that has been bothering me for a long time, that I hint at but never really talk about because I am trying to protect people.  But in that protection I'm giving myself a stroke.  Not even kidding.  I feel like I'm going to implode.  She asked what I normally do when something is upsetting me, I told her I blog about it or paint it out.  She asked me if I'd blogged about it and I told her no.  She asked why and I said I didn't want to hurt certain people.  She suggested I blog it out and tell them not to read it.  Duh.  That's why she gets the letters after her name.

So I'm going to blog about it.

In a minute.

K had her first cheer performance today and we rushed to get there after my appt.  We thought it started at 6 but on the way there found out it was 630 and I really had to pee so we stopped in the ghetto to go to the gas station.  I really had to pee.  Ghetto!

I walk in with Dad and Jason and Mom stays in the car.  I go to the unisex bathroom and open the door, which should be locked if occupied but it's unlocked.  And occupied.  By a man standing up to pee.  I'm staring like, uh, why didn't you lock the door, he TURNS TO ME, holding what he has to hold to pee, and just looks at me and says, "My bad!"  And is still looking at me.  I slam the door and run out and Jason's all "What do you want to drink" and I'm all "Just saw a man's manhood, I have to leave, now."  And he's all, "huh?  What?"  So I run out of the store and jump in the car.  Dad always backs into spaces.  So I run to the passenger side, climb in and tell mom I just saw a man peeing and he wasn't shy.  As I'm telling her this, the man walks out.  And into the car, right beside me.  I'm trying to hide and he's looking in the car, then he drives off, stares at me with a big ole grin on his face.

Mortified and grossed out all rolled up in a big gross memory.

Come home, take the dog for a walk, a nice couple stops and goes crazy over Coco.  Who jumps on me, twice and raises my dress, twice, to expose my spanx.  So I'm mortified and mozy on home with my adorable dog.  Only to realize as I go to unlock my front door that I have lost my mailbox key somewhere along the way.  I take the dog in, and retrace my steps with a flashlight.  I am awesome.  Finally found it in the yard of the dog loving neighbors.

So, I've been to a few therapists in my day.  When I went with my ex-husband, I tell him about myself, answer some questions, blah blah blah and he says, "So your parents are divorced huh?"  Uh, no, happily married for a billion years.  "Oh, but your dad is an alcoholic who was never there for you huh?"  Uh, no.  He's drank maybe a case of beer in my lifetime and I was and still am, Daddy's little girl.  I stumped the man.  He didn't know where my fixer tendencies come from.  This counterproductive need to please.  This making sure that everyone's taken care of, not hurting and doing ok thing came from.  He said if a normal person (not referring to me) was in a car crash, their life would flash before their eyes.  He said with me, I would worry about what it was going to do to my mom, dad, family...if something happened to me.  And that usually comes with someone with Daddy issues.

I know I'm crazy but I know I don't have Daddy issues.  Well, fast forward to Jillian Michaels and she says some things and she's talking about her Daddy issues and it hit me like a 2 ton anvil to the face, I have Brother issues.

My brother, as most older brothers, was my hero growing up.  He played football, I cheered.  He was cool, I was the annoying little sister.  We had good times growing up.  Then we moved to FL and he didn't want to move in his later high schools years, I was so ready to get out of dodge into the big beautiful land of FL.

He makes the football team, starts dating a cheerleader and gets in with a big group of friends.  I gain 1000 lbs, have braces and mall hair.  He loved life, I hated it.  I didn't fit in.  Anywhere.  He kicks the winning field goal against an unbeat team and makes the news and papers, I get bullied on a daily basis by a loser named Casey.

But I never stopped adoring my big brother.  He got less tolerant of my tantrums and outbursts and cries for attention and made me feel like a bigger loser than that nasty Casey kid.  He didn't do it verbally really, he just became indifferent to me.  I knew he didn't like me.  And that sucked.

There are a handful of times I remember in my early 20's where we hung out with his friends and I thought I was cool.  I made people laugh, I had good stories, I was a pretty awesome little sister.  So I thought.  He thought otherwise.  He started being more verbal and I started feeling more awkward.  I could never be myself because it wasn't good enough for him.  My parents would ask him how his day was and would get a "fine."  They never got the chance to ask me how my day was because I'd walk through the door sharing my newest shenanigans.  He was very independent and never asked the opinions of others, I ran every detail of everything through anyone who had a pulse.  Still do.

He met his wife and I was so excited.  I was getting a sister.  Finally.  But the honeymoon phase didn't last long.  My time spent with them had a direct correlation to my weight.  When I would lose weight, I'd get invited places with them.  When I gained weight, I had the plague.  I wish I were being dramatic but I'm not.

They bought a house, a few months later I was able to buy my first house.  They were married and always talked about giving my parents their first grandchild, as I was the ugly warted sibling who would have a houseful of cats apparently.  Then I met my ex, who had a 1.5 year old son and the proverbial poo hit the fan.  Especially when we got full custody.  I had somehow slid into first place in a game I wasn't aware I was playing.  They talked of Mom and Dad being called "Grammy and Popsey" to their non existent child and then they got pregnant.  But in that 9 month window, J out of the blue called mom and dad, Papa and TT.  And it stuck.  And that wasn't ok.

When I went through my divorce, they never called to check on me.  When they found out about my miscarriage, radio silent.  I think maybe my sister n law asked my parents occasionally how I was doing but never asked me.  My brother, in my 3 years of hell, never once asked if I was doing ok.  But they, instead, judged me the whole time.  Taking my ex husbands side of which they knew none of either story because they hadn't cared enough to ask.

When I went to KY after all the crap with my divorce, J, miscarriage, and seeing one of my best friends go through the trauma of losing her baby shorty after birth, I was messed up.  It was hard to go to their house and see them playing with their kids.  Making dinner in their house.  Going to the grocery store.  It was just hard.  I mentioned something to them about my divorce and something was said and I finally laid it out.  Did you know the man that you are supporting was addicted to porn and surfed his websites hours every day?  When he was out of work, he was using MY money to pay for these sites?  When he finally landed a job, he had an ongoing affair with his secretary?  Deer in headlights, a lot of oh my gosh's we had no idea and my goodness.  Yea, I wasn't being dramatic when I said my life kind of fell apart.  But thanks for asking.

I told my brother it was hard, just being part of his life.  Seeing his beautiful family and I was so happy for them but it just made me sad.  He waxed lyrical about him still having HIS family and he was able, even through some hard times, to appreciate the beauty of the sun shining through the trees over the horse farms and all kinds of quaalude induced speech that was way over this girl's head.  But it crushed me. I wasn't telling him he didn't deserve any of it, I was explaining how happy I was for him and I wished some day to have that.

Downhill from there.

I am a martyr.  My parents are enablers.  I am dramatic.  I am brought this all on myself.  I've always been "too much" for his taste.  Too excited, too down, too heavy, too many stories, too much laughter, too many tears.  Bottom line, he doesn't like me.  At all.

Hard pill to swallow.

Years go by, it only gets worse.  He tells my parents the only way he will have a relationship with them is if they don't mention my name.  The only way he will allow a relationship with me is if I don't speak Mom and Dad's name to him.  They were willing to try his rules in an effort to heal our family, I basically told him to screw off.  What good is a brother if I can't talk to him about our parents.

His beef is this.  During those years of my hell, he had to hear about it.  Poor thing.  What he fails to remember or acknowledge is that I lived through some of his and his wife's hell and allowed them to get through it.  Without judging them.  I stepped out of the "limelight" and let them "have" mom and dad to help them heal.  It wasn't enabling when they needed it.  Just me.

We are not allowed to speak of his past.  Only mine.  And all my missteps, all my mistakes and all my problems.  Open game.  What he fails to let himself see or admit is all that time that Mom and Dad were "enabling" me, they were also grieving.  They lost a grandson.  They lost a (crappy) son in law.  They watched their daughter drowning.  And only because they held my head above water, I am who I am today.

They came to mine and Jason's wedding for some reason.  But they don't visit, they don't call, they don't stop in Jax when they drive to Orlando.  But they came to my wedding.  I called him before the wedding and told him we needed to talk.  I didn't want to be the first time we talked in years to be after I said "I do."  He apologized to me.  Said that he should have called me and checked on me during those years.  I forgave him, I apologized for things I'd done, things I hadn't done, things he kind of demanded I apologize for, in an effort to mend our family.

They came to the wedding, acted like the goodnold times, they signed our marriage license for some reason as witnesses, I thought we were going to be ok.  And they brought me a beautiful 8x10 picture of their family for my wedding gift.

Then it got worse.  A lot worse.  They don't talk to anyone.  They ignore everyone that shares our last name.  I don't know if they see us as not good enough or what, but it's not even that that don't like us anymore.  They just don't care.  They say they care, they say they hurt but the only way they will talk of any sort of relationship is on their terms, with their rules.  Which has gotten us nowhere. 

Ive invited them to many big events over the years and they haven't come to any.  I've seen them twice in 3 years.  I have a niece I've never seen.  I wasn't invited to any baby showers.  I wasn't included in anything.  That's their choice, I can't change it so I try to accept it.  But it's still my brother.  It's still my nephews who I have always really loved so much.

When my water broke my sister n law text me.  My brother sent me a text that said he was sorry.  When Tucker died, she left me a message.  Nothing from him.  When we lost Fletcher, he sent me a text that he was sorry.  No phone calls.  Which shouldn't surprise me.  

My parents found out they had a new granddaughter through fb.  But not their fb because they have deleted all of us.  My parents received the birth announcement, 4 months later, 3 days after Tucker died.  

I've tried to mend fences with the few people that I have problems with since we lost our boys.  Some I've made great strides with.  I've tried with him, I have gotten nowhere.  He is sorry for the circumstances surrounding my pregnancy but he is going to enjoy his family.

I'm not blameless in this. I lose my temper, I lose my mind.  I text him sorry, I text him hateful things.  I can't stand to see people I love hurting.  And being ignored.  Or being made to feel like they don't matter, that they aren't good enough or that they have somehow done something unforgivable that we can't even talk about to try to fix.

But like me, my parents hurt. More than me, I know.  Because it's my brother, but it's their son.  I know this will hurt them, me blogging this.  Because I'm putting words to something that for years has been unspoken but everyone knows about.  He has every right to be hurt if something hurt him.  But to decide that he is going to make rules that WE must abide by in order to even try to have a relationship isn't only selfish but completely arrogant.

So, I have brother issues.  I married a man just like my brother.  He would gain 50 lbs and mock me for gaining 5.  He would lose his job because he got caught on the company computer with porn and make me feel like crap because I only sold 10 houses that month.  He didn't have a pot to pee in but I had a good "starter home."  My brother is the same man.  He is blameless and everyone has to play by his rules.  He can unload onto you all your sins and transgressions and mistakes but forbids you to speak of anything he has done.  Forbids.  Thats a big word.

But if I married my brother the first time around, I married my Dad the second.  I finally got it right.  I have a man who loves me.  Who sees the best in me.  Who encourages me to follow my dreams and never makes me feel stupid.

I said all that because it was becoming a cancer inside me.  It's tacky to air your familys dirty laundry but it's going to take up 10 chapters in my book so let's call this a preview. And I fear my ever growing desire to punch something will land me in jail because I have been pretending that our reality isn't this sucky reality and my anger just grows. 

I need to speak to my parents for a second, if only for me to say it out loud.  Mom, Dad, you are great parents.  You are loving people.  You are amazing grandparents.  You are selfless, you are caring, you are kind.  From your time as youth counselors, to your time spent helping coworkers through their hard times, you are both so special.  You are loved.  You are needed and you are important.  You have stood beside me and loved me through the darkest of nights.  You have celebrated with me during the best times of my life.  You matter.  To a lot of people.  Most of all, to me. But to Jason, to our kids, to so many friends, so many people you don't even know.  You have impacted the lives of many and your works will be rewarded.

I'm sorry.  I wish I could fix this.  I wish I could take this from you.  I wish things were different.  But this is a reflection of someone else's heart, not who you either of you are.  You both are beautiful, you are kind and you are loved.

We've always said we aren't waiting for any ending, but a beautiful one.  And I know, wherever this road takes me, and Jason, and our kids, you will be beside us, enjoying life with us because we love you, we need you and we appreciate you.

I think my parents are pretty fab. And to pat myself on the back a second, I am pretty fab too. Because I have the best of each of them and they are pretty awesome people!

I'm blessed. And so are they. I pray they know it and feel it. They deserve it. 

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