I haven't posted on my blog in sometime. The last time that I did, others took it upon themselves to use it to their advantage, to argue, to despise, to further their agenda. I started writing on here basically for my own therapy. Keeping thoughts and worries bottled up inside leads to an inevitable eruption, and I was determined to avoid this. Others in my life have not learned this valuable lesson however, and so, hence we had the day. The day I felt coming, the day I told my husband that I knew was going to be a disaster, and yep, it happened.
How do you avoid such events? You can't. You just take a deep breath, and hope that it doesn't unravel into the madness you are envisioning in your mind. You can't talk to a person that is in complete denial for so long about their own shortcomings. There is no way to move a brick wall...it always needs to be demolished before you can rebuild. Removing it brick by brick with your bare hands never works. It is too strong and determined to stand and defeat you.
I am sick of brick walls.
The complications and issues that have evolved in my life have been challenging to say the least. I have never claimed or tried to be perfect. I make mistakes, and then, try to move on. There is no other choice. It happens. The best you can do is learn from those mistakes, and try not to repeat them. My worst fear my entire life is 1-that I would become my Mother. 2- that my sons would become their father. Anyone who knows me at all understands these fears, and they need no explanation. My biggest mistake, one that hit me like a freight train on the night of my birthday, was that I didn't realize my fear for my sons was not going to materialize in them....but instead in my daughter.
Anger is an evil and destructive force. It serves no purpose except to destroy others, to cause pain, to cause harm, and almost always it is the ones that love you most that wind up in the path of the destruction. There usually is never one single trigger that sets off the storm, nor is an event usually the real reason for it either. It is a build up that waits, sits dormant, builds and builds like a huge hurricane, building speed, momentum, strength, and then hits...and hits with force.
I am at a loss as to what to do, and have been for a long time. I have watched the disaster that is coming build and build, and even though I have tried at times to discuss it, I am met with furious hostility and indescribable disgust. The choice to avoid me, to sit in the same room and continuously type on a cell phone rather than engage in conversation....has been hers. The choice to be sarcastic, condescending, and rude...has been hers. Many times, the laughing, unbeknownst to her, has been heard quite clearly, and I have remained quiet, wanting to keep the peace.
I found a breaking point....and I broke.
Words cut deep. They remain in your mind, no matter how much you try to erase them, they are eternal. To have someone you love so much scream the most hurtful and hateful words at you, with such anger, is something that a person can never recover from. To have my son hurt more than me, and baffled to how it all unraveled and blew up like the nuclear bomb that it was, became almost too much to handle. Am I alright? No...and I won't ever be alright. I have endured enough. Being disrespected has always been acceptable behavior from people I am related too....and I just cannot take it anymore.
Decisions are made that children do not understand when they are little. They aren't supposed to understand. They are children, and are being protected, even though they don't believe it at the time. I could not control the events that unfolded when I chose to get away from the hell that was my first marriage. I would not have survived much longer if I did not. The physical abuse was not the most damaging. The emotional abuse was much worse, and I suffer from it today. I have poor self esteem. I cry sometimes over small things that hurt very deeply, and I am so confused as to why. I never feel that I am good enough for anyone, and I struggle daily. Daily....29 years....I hate it. I try to fight it. I try and I have no way to recover except to keep going. For those few months before I actually separated, I didn't want to keep going. I just wanted to die. I had the entire plan ready, mapped out, knew exactly how I would go through with it.
I hung on....and I realized that it would be the most selfish and hurtful action for my children. To check out is not the answer. They don't know how much I really love them. How choosing to hold on as much as possible just to have them in the same room with me....how material things have never mattered as much as hearing them laugh....
...and how watching my daughter lash out, destroy herself and walk around in utter denial of her demise, is once again, making me feel like I made the wrong choice. She yelled, she screamed, and I heard her clearly. If I had put a bullet in my brain right then , it wouldn't have hurt as much as hearing her tell me she hates me, I am a terrible mother, the screeching in her voice.
The worst birthday of my life. A gift from my daughter. Where is the return desk for that?