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LJ Idol Week 9: Counterintuitive
"They're saying you tried to kidnap our brother."
"..Wait, what?"
"When you took Charlie and me out to lunch and left a note saying we were with you and you'd bring us back later? Charlie was grounded. He didn't tell us. So now the family story is that you tried to kidnap him."
There was more to the conversation, I'm sure. But these are the only words I remember. These, and the words that echoed in my head.
I don't deserve to eat.
If the people that had raised me could create this sort of fiction surrounding my actions...well, my god. My god. What kind of person must I be?
None of it was, of course, logical. Welcome to the workings of a dysfunctional family, where logic is a mythical beast, and personal accountability is non-existent. I grew up apologizing for everything, anything, longing for approval, and ended up here, in a life those I raised could never relate to, still being blamed for things I had never, would never, have done.
I don't deserve to eat led to my starving myself - not to the point of anorexia, but definitely to the point of needing help to start to eat correctly again. And sometimes the feeling of being hungry is a sensation I still find oddly addictive, still find oddly deserving.
I can't say that, even now, well over a decade after the above phone call occurred, that there is not still a part of me which longs for my family's approval. Family is still my holy grail. But when I look over my familial history, this is the point that I know I made a decision that saved my life...because it was at this point that I realized I had to stop trying to be a part of my father's dysfunctional world.
"..Wait, what?"
"When you took Charlie and me out to lunch and left a note saying we were with you and you'd bring us back later? Charlie was grounded. He didn't tell us. So now the family story is that you tried to kidnap him."
There was more to the conversation, I'm sure. But these are the only words I remember. These, and the words that echoed in my head.
I don't deserve to eat.
If the people that had raised me could create this sort of fiction surrounding my actions...well, my god. My god. What kind of person must I be?
None of it was, of course, logical. Welcome to the workings of a dysfunctional family, where logic is a mythical beast, and personal accountability is non-existent. I grew up apologizing for everything, anything, longing for approval, and ended up here, in a life those I raised could never relate to, still being blamed for things I had never, would never, have done.
I don't deserve to eat led to my starving myself - not to the point of anorexia, but definitely to the point of needing help to start to eat correctly again. And sometimes the feeling of being hungry is a sensation I still find oddly addictive, still find oddly deserving.
I can't say that, even now, well over a decade after the above phone call occurred, that there is not still a part of me which longs for my family's approval. Family is still my holy grail. But when I look over my familial history, this is the point that I know I made a decision that saved my life...because it was at this point that I realized I had to stop trying to be a part of my father's dysfunctional world.
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Nothing like a little distorted family history. My sister still tells the story of how I accidentally hit her with a golf club 30 years ago as if I picked up the thing and swung it at her head like the damn Godfather. And I can tell that she actually believes it.
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The underlying feeling of never being good enough still hides within waiting like the cold sore virus against your spine to erupt on you lip--those feelings can slip like slime right back into your brain.
You wrote about it just perfectly, well done.
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My family of origin had a number of myths that basically amounted to how utterly awful I was. These stories were not, actually, true..., but there was no way I could plead another version, because they were all so fond of the Official Version that had me as Teh Bad.
It really hurt, and it even hurts now- 30+ years later- when i think about it. It participates a lot in my nightmares, even now.
Still, when I am awake... well, they're the ones missing out because we're not in contact. I am, in fact, a pretty cool person with a lot to offer, and since they'd rather suck up to my nasty mother- well, fuck them; they deserve the nastiness they get from her.
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(Anonymous) 2012-01-10 01:11 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
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<3
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Yet, as an outsider... I find the transition between the beginning and the "I don't deserve to eat" (very disturbing one :( ) unclear. Maybe you could have explained who Charlie and the other person were.
Or maybe you wanted it to be this way, when what seems 'just weird to me' is a trigger...
Sorry, never know when such comments are welcome and when not.
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