I just realized how unfair I've been to my husband. He's a great guy. I'd even say he's every Borderlines dream guy. He's read everything he can in order to understand the condition. He puts up with my mood swings. He follows all of my stupid rules I made in order to alleviate the feeling that he was going to leave me. Even in my hardest times, he's never stopped supporting me. And it's because of all this that I expected more.
We got into an argument the other day. Well, it wasn't really much of an argument. I just said something that he took the wrong way and he ended up yelling hurtful things at me. It made me cry for hours. The whole time I was thinking that he should've held back his feelings. I was thinking that he shouldn't have yelled because he knows I might react badly to it. I was thinking that he must not care for me because if he did, he would've acted in a way that put my feelings first.
It wasn't until last night that I realized how hypocritical and selfish that is. I mean, I yell at him all the time. Why shouldn't he be able to do the same? Just because I have BPD doesn't mean I'm the only one with strong emotions. I've always said that everyone has a right to their own feelings and there's no such thing as a wrong feeling. So then why do I expect him to always keep his feelings in check? Why do I think my feelings are more important than his?
I've got some serious thinking to do.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Why am I not good enough?
I've never felt good enough. For as long as I can remember, I always felt like everyone else was better than me. I always felt like I didn't deserve anything positive. I always felt like I was the outcast. Even in my own family. I've never felt like I'm loved and liked as much as my sisters. And I don't understand why.
I'm smart. I maintained a 4.0 all through school. I completed 3 years of high school in 4 months and aced every class. My mind soaks up knowledge like a sponge. I love learning and I was the only one who didn't give my parents any trouble about it. So why didn't my parents ever brag about their smart child?
I was the one that stayed. Everyone else got shipped off and got to live out their teenage years in happy homes. But me? I stayed. At least until I went to the girls home. And then I came back and stayed again. While my sisters were spread out in 3 different states, I stayed in my hometown with my family. And what did I get for it? The same old feeling of not being good enough. I mean, you should hear my family talk about my sister Lisa. She's perfect, even though she's not. They just act like she is. She lives in California and flies up every year or two. She never came up when Dad was hospitalized. I was the only one there for that. She never came up when Grandma had open heart surgery. Just me again. She never sent Dad money when he was broke. But I did. And I didn't do it for praise or thanks or glory. I did it because he needed help. And do you know what I found out last year? Lisa does drugs. I really don't care. It's her life. But I don't do drugs. Sure I tried pot when I was 14, but it was just 3 times. I smoked it a couple times as an adult but I realized I still didn't care for it. So I just don't do drugs. But my Dad thinks I do. And he looks down on me for it. But not Lisa. He's proud of her.
It's like I'm held to a higher standard or something. And it's so high I'll never be able to reach it.
I'm smart. I maintained a 4.0 all through school. I completed 3 years of high school in 4 months and aced every class. My mind soaks up knowledge like a sponge. I love learning and I was the only one who didn't give my parents any trouble about it. So why didn't my parents ever brag about their smart child?
I was the one that stayed. Everyone else got shipped off and got to live out their teenage years in happy homes. But me? I stayed. At least until I went to the girls home. And then I came back and stayed again. While my sisters were spread out in 3 different states, I stayed in my hometown with my family. And what did I get for it? The same old feeling of not being good enough. I mean, you should hear my family talk about my sister Lisa. She's perfect, even though she's not. They just act like she is. She lives in California and flies up every year or two. She never came up when Dad was hospitalized. I was the only one there for that. She never came up when Grandma had open heart surgery. Just me again. She never sent Dad money when he was broke. But I did. And I didn't do it for praise or thanks or glory. I did it because he needed help. And do you know what I found out last year? Lisa does drugs. I really don't care. It's her life. But I don't do drugs. Sure I tried pot when I was 14, but it was just 3 times. I smoked it a couple times as an adult but I realized I still didn't care for it. So I just don't do drugs. But my Dad thinks I do. And he looks down on me for it. But not Lisa. He's proud of her.
It's like I'm held to a higher standard or something. And it's so high I'll never be able to reach it.
Please don't take this post to mean that I don't like my sister. I love her very much and wish we could be as close as we used to be. I just don't like that I'll never be as good as her.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
So now I'm freaking out
The full force of my decision to move home just hit me. What the hell was I thinking? I moved away because that whole town makes me an emotional wreck. My "friends" are all the people I used to party with. They probably expect me to be the same person I was back then. The girl who will sleep with anyone if she gets drunk enough.
Then there's my ex. He's going to use my kids to hurt me every chance he gets. And in doing so, he's going to break their hearts and probably mess their heads up so much they'll end up with their own mental disorder. Part of the reason I moved away was because he told me the only way I could see the kids was if I slept with him. That's just the kind of person he is.
And there's my Grandma. I love her and I wouldn't trade her for the world, but she's manipulative. She lies and then lies about lying. She tries to play people against each other. She's just too much to handle sometimes.
And of course there's my Dad. My Dad makes me feel inadequate, like I'm just not good enough. When I tell him something, he looks at me like I'm lying (even though I'm not). He acts like I never do anything right. He never tells me he's proud of me. And he's disowned me 3 times. When I try to talk to him about the things Patti did to me and Lisa when we were little, he won't listen. He denies everything. I understand that denying what happened is his way of telling himself he's not responsible. But how can he deny coming home and seeing me covered in blood? How can he deny Patti hitting me so hard that she sprained her hand? How can he deny picking me up from the hospital after her actions caused my hand to be cut in half? He moved me out of her house that night so he must have suspected something. But I lived with him for months after that and he never said anything, He was with me through the reattachment surgery, doctors visits, physical therapy, and he never even asked what happened. I guess the denial was present even back then. I just get so tired of hearing "You remember it worse than it really was".
And last but not least, there's Patti. She made my life a living hell. She beat me for no reason. She gave us so many little rules, they were impossible to follow. It was like she wanted to control everything about us, no matter how small. I can't tell you how many times I got in trouble for drinking wrong. How does a person drink wrong? She treated me and Lisa like crap just because she wasn't happy with my Dad. It wasn't our fault he cheated on her. And when I got out of the girls home at 17, she tried to play the victim. She said I should feel sorry for her because she had to put up with me and Lisa. Screw that. I can't stand her. I hate her. I don't want to be around her and I definitely don't want to live with her.
When I step into my parents house, I turn back into a scared little girl. I remember all the rules. Ask before getting a drink of water. Ask to go to the bathroom. We only eat at designated times. No humming. Don't touch anything. No gum or candy. Ask to use the phone. I still follow them. I shake with fear (literally, my body trembles) that I'll break a rule. When my husband ate a banana without permission, I totally freaked. And it's silly because I know Patti can't do anything to me anymore. After surviving for 4 years with an abusive husband who outweighed me by a hundred pounds, Patti's nothing. I'm not scared of her. So I don't know why my head goes all screwy whenever I'm over there. But the point is that it does go all screwy....and I'm supposed to go back there and live?
How?
Then there's my ex. He's going to use my kids to hurt me every chance he gets. And in doing so, he's going to break their hearts and probably mess their heads up so much they'll end up with their own mental disorder. Part of the reason I moved away was because he told me the only way I could see the kids was if I slept with him. That's just the kind of person he is.
And there's my Grandma. I love her and I wouldn't trade her for the world, but she's manipulative. She lies and then lies about lying. She tries to play people against each other. She's just too much to handle sometimes.
And of course there's my Dad. My Dad makes me feel inadequate, like I'm just not good enough. When I tell him something, he looks at me like I'm lying (even though I'm not). He acts like I never do anything right. He never tells me he's proud of me. And he's disowned me 3 times. When I try to talk to him about the things Patti did to me and Lisa when we were little, he won't listen. He denies everything. I understand that denying what happened is his way of telling himself he's not responsible. But how can he deny coming home and seeing me covered in blood? How can he deny Patti hitting me so hard that she sprained her hand? How can he deny picking me up from the hospital after her actions caused my hand to be cut in half? He moved me out of her house that night so he must have suspected something. But I lived with him for months after that and he never said anything, He was with me through the reattachment surgery, doctors visits, physical therapy, and he never even asked what happened. I guess the denial was present even back then. I just get so tired of hearing "You remember it worse than it really was".
And last but not least, there's Patti. She made my life a living hell. She beat me for no reason. She gave us so many little rules, they were impossible to follow. It was like she wanted to control everything about us, no matter how small. I can't tell you how many times I got in trouble for drinking wrong. How does a person drink wrong? She treated me and Lisa like crap just because she wasn't happy with my Dad. It wasn't our fault he cheated on her. And when I got out of the girls home at 17, she tried to play the victim. She said I should feel sorry for her because she had to put up with me and Lisa. Screw that. I can't stand her. I hate her. I don't want to be around her and I definitely don't want to live with her.
When I step into my parents house, I turn back into a scared little girl. I remember all the rules. Ask before getting a drink of water. Ask to go to the bathroom. We only eat at designated times. No humming. Don't touch anything. No gum or candy. Ask to use the phone. I still follow them. I shake with fear (literally, my body trembles) that I'll break a rule. When my husband ate a banana without permission, I totally freaked. And it's silly because I know Patti can't do anything to me anymore. After surviving for 4 years with an abusive husband who outweighed me by a hundred pounds, Patti's nothing. I'm not scared of her. So I don't know why my head goes all screwy whenever I'm over there. But the point is that it does go all screwy....and I'm supposed to go back there and live?
How?
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