If anyone ever stops to wonder why I am so fucking angry all the time, it's because I carry the anger from home. Anger? Always. I hide it well. Very well indeed. I have learnt from young that anger is to be directed only at the one causing me the pain. No one else.
It burbles like boiling, rolling barley. Simmers and shivers under the skin like mercury. It is CAUSED by a LIFETIME of dealing with parents who don't listen to what I say, don't care *what* I say, don't care what sort of carelessness they've inflicted on me.
I didn't realise I carried this quiet seething so deeply all the time until late last year. To cut a long story short, I had come back from work to hear my mom rant, rave and shout as usual. I had no idea what was going on, and when she turned on me, I shouted back. Even my father was taken aback. But I vowed to him that I was no longer going to be shouted at for no reason. And it's worked. She hasn't shouted at me since.
We three children are damaged. Irreparably. We look at our parents and we desperately pray that we never end up like them once married. It is a fear that's tattooed on our collective souls.
(Lest I sound like a psychopath, I make mention that this ability to finely tune my anger has stood me in good stead. I am able to work with people I detest - so long as they are efficient. If you can show me that you're worth your job, I can work with you civilly and politely. It's not a boast, it's an observation. I've proved it to myself.)
Everything was done the traditional way i.e. if I feed you and clothe you, it means I love you. No hugs, no kisses. No sessions of heart to-hearts on things that worried children. My parents have never been my friends.
Till today, my mother will hug me out of necessity, and with as little bodily contact as possible. It's gotten to the point that when they leave for their travels, I'll hug dad, but I'll just wave to mom.
If you don't want it, so be it. I'm sick to the death of trying to cultivate warmth with you.
Why the sudden outpouring?
*shrugs*
I don't know.
Perhaps it's because dad, in his growing years, has become as careless with his words as mom is. I can handle one hurtful parent, but not two.
They have never realised that words have the power to hurt and wound. Words will carve their heated path across both heart and soul. Words will burn in the mind forever. Some wounds will never close. More than ever, I feel like I'm talking to walls, butting my head against a tree.
Oh, I won't abandon them. In their dotage, I'll have them looked after. Probably get a maid or something to see to their needs. But right now, if you ask me if I'll cry at their funerals, I honestly don't know. This has been going on for so long now... shit, I'll be 39 this year... that all I feel is either anger or numbness. Lately, it's been anger lol.
I've decided this needs to be blogged since I'm going to use my blog to chart all things now. It's always been the good thus far. Now it will chart everything, warts and all.
Ok, just had a smoke with The Sister. Feel better now, thank you.
And no armchair psychology, thanks!
Natural introvert, learned extrovert.
About Me
- Fiona Kathleen Hogan
- Testy, cynical and Eurasian. I won't play well with you if you have no bloody common sense. All comments & emails sent me become fodder for my blog.
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4 comments:
I know a lot of people raised by wolves who turned out OK. You seem to be doing- quite frankly, wonderfully. Don't sweat.
Og :)
Not sweating, just trying to do with what I have, making the best of what I can. I guess it was just an off moment for me.
But I enjoyed your comment. You have a knack for saying the right thing lol. Thanks! *hugs*
Read this a few days ago and I've been thinking about my response. I feel much the same way as you, regarding my parents, for different reasons. The whole alcoholic/enabler thing when I was growing up...I think my parents did the best that they knew how. they just grew up in an era (they were kids in the 40's and young adults in the 50's) and lived in a profession (theatre) where boozing was encouraged. They provided for me and my brothers and endowed us with some really good mental and emotional traits. Is it enough to overide the emotional damage? dunno...just trying to be a decent person and avoid repeating the mistakes they made. I do have difficulty figuring out how much to excuse (since they were reflecting the culture of their day) and how much to be pissed off about( 'cause they were the grown-ups and should have known better).
The long and the short? We get the good and the bad from the parents. You seem to be a good person, doing the best you can do. Same as me, I think. I can't give any advice...I guess I'm just commiserating....Hope you don't mind. Hang in!
Hi John,
I loved reading your comment and whilst you may not think you're giving advice, I enjoyed your perspective and I'll take away the wisdom of patience. Which is harder than it looks.
*wry grin*
I don't mind at all, more please! I really do enjoy your reflections!
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