My Einstein son said Happy New Year to me when he came down the stairs this morning and immediately pointed out that today is a palindrome. If only I was wired that way ....
Think about it, though. A palindrome is numbers or words that are spelled exactly the same backwards and forwards. Either you look at that as simplicity at is finest or the most boring aspect of numbers and words. Aren't words supposed to stand out boldly and mightily? Aren't numbers supposed to add up to something or take away something or multiply something or divide something as big as the Grand Canyon?
Many people live their lives like a palindrome. Always the same - backward or forward. That sounds safe and comfortable. But devoid of passion, change, color, light, all the emotions that humans possess.
I am NOT a palindrome. I was for a while. But not anymore.
I didn't win Megamillions last night. No one did. I took a small bit of comfort in that knowledge.
So what is in store for me for 2011? No clue. I know about today. And right now, that's all I need to know. In six months, I learned not to try to predict events that have not (or may not) happen. I have learned not to let others' guilt or displeasure, happiness or sorrow, anger, bitterness or resentment make ME feel that way - only if I allow it to happen. I am done 'allowing' other people's emotions to control me and my life.
I control my life. And my son's. And he and I are all that matter. Everything and everyone else is secondary. That's not to say I'm going to become a recluse - far, far from that. But I went through six months of self-discovery and a lot was horrendously painful and full of regrets and sorrow. But I am learning how to overcome what I allowed others to make me feel.
My mother is an alcoholic. My sister is a drug addict. My youngest sister is just plain rotten to the core. And my brother is as detached from his immediate family as a freestanding three-car garage. And there is my father who lives in Florida, and still has enough money to wallpaper the state, but who is alone because none of his children or grandchildren speak to him. Actually, my mother is like that too except she tries to live her life through her children - mostly living it inside her wine glass and wine bottle.
I refuse to allow her or anyone in my family - or my son's father inclusive - to make me feel bad about how my life has turned out. While I was influenced obviously because my family history, I am the only one to whom I have to answer every single day.
But it still very, very difficult to comprehend that both of my parents do not love me, or perhaps do not love me in the manner I expect them to. I have discovered that their love always came with a condition, a term and an expectation. Neither understand the concept of unconditional love. My entire life was a big term, a specific condition and of course, the expectation that they would love me if .... Boy, that really sucked when i found that out. But then again, looking back and right up until now present day, it comes as no surprise.
And of course, what is even more not a surprise is the learned pattern of behavior that persons like myself tend to repeat over and over and over when seeking a relationship because what we learn is all we know. Some, like my brother, simply find another family that actually had the proper tools with which to guide their own children and my brother found that family when he met his wife and he grew up to be a decent loving father. But he still despises his siblings and doesn't hesitate to take out the knife and stab any one of us at any given time. In a way, I don't blame him because we are all bad reminders of his own childhood. We are all bad reminders of each other, period. But he's wealthy and he owns three homes and is very very successful and unfortunately has put himself up on a pedestal to look down upon his three sisters who all failed in some capacity in life. All three sisters are divorced. My brother has been married for eons. But again, he got his tools from somewhere else - not his own family. I bet if some rocket scientist psychologist got a hold of my brother, my brother would crumble like a cookie and reveal how his father crushed his dreams, that his father called his wife to be a 'goddamned spic' and didn't pay a penny toward my brother's college education which is probably what pushed my brother to be somebody. Not because he wanted to, but because he wanted to throw it back in his father's face (quietly of course) but still pretend that he has a relationship with his father just because he became successful, too.
Well boulya to you, brother.
But do I care? Not anymore. This is why I write about it. It's cathartic getting this crap out of my system. Each minute I peel away a piece of the past that is littered with my dysfunctional family, my former relationships which weren't relationships at all --- and discard that piece. Bigger pieces still lay upon my soul like thousands of years of sediment. I bet if someone dug far enough into me, they'd find a t-rex LOL
But I'll get there. But it's still hard. I am surrounded by people whose parents would do anything for their kids - and do. Even as adults. And the reason ? Those parents would say, "hey,those are my KIDS.' Who wouldn't help their kids in dire straights?"
My hand is already up in there air.
My parents wouldn't help me. And when I asked, I was refused flat out and called horrible names by my mother and my father - well, I knew what he thought of me when I was eight years old. He crushed me long before he crushed my brother.
BUT I am still here. Somehow, someway. And I have a son who's almost 11 and I will do anything for him. I will not be like my parents (and I never have been) and I have no idea how I was able to turn out to be a good mother.
Maybe I did end up being wired a certain way. It just took having a son to figure it out.
And of course, I seem to have found a place in my soul that I opened up and let God in. Little by little. Some of prayers were answered. Big ones, actually. So I have to have faith that something or someone was listening. And perhaps everything that happened in the past six months was for a very specific reason. I haven't figured out what it is yet.
I still miss Alex. There are just certain hurts that will never go away. And he is one of those hurts.
But I did say to him "hey, it's your loss, not mine."
And that is the truth. It's my mother's loss, my father's loss, my brother's loss and every single person who made me feel bad about myself - because I allowed them to make me feel that way.
No more. Hasta la veesta all you negative sayers. No more.
And yes, it is REALLY your loss.
2011 - I am ready. Or getting there each day.
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