Remembrances

I have been reading this morning, some of the blogs I frequent. Specifically, Enola and Beautiful Dreamer.

Both of these ladies have jogged, or perhaps jarred is the word, my memories and feelings. This isn't a bad thing, as I realize that I tend to shove things away somewhere, and they surface at very inopportune times. For example, I am leaving next Wednesday to return to my home province, family and friends. Its usually at those times that I struggle.

Perhaps if I write some of this down, it wont happen, or it wont be so bad as to once again make me look to be so off kilter. My reactions to home and to family are strange sometimes, and of course I have never explained why. The reasons are many, but the main one is fear. Fear that I wont be believed by them...or that what I say will alienate them. Why should I care? I live far away, and I have a right to heal....no? Nice words I suppose, but I am still afraid.

Enola talked about food issues. For many years I drove everyone who cares about me crazy because of it. I starved myself, or I threw up everything I ate. Truly, I dont know how I functioned, and yet I did.

I did more than function....I excelled. An over achiever to beat all over achievers...thats me. It looked like I had the world at my feet...like I had it all together, and yet here I was starving myself, almost killing myself.

The first time I knew for sure, why I had the problem I had, was when my mother and I were visiting my brother and his family. My brother yelled at his daughter at the dinner table, and I sent a glass of water flying, as I choked and gagged. I ran away from the table humiliated, and my mother followed me. She started to cry, as did I, and she told me she knew exactly what the problem was, and in that instant, so did I.

Meals as a kid were horrifying. It started with my dad, who chose that time of day to tell us what we had done wrong that day. Being sensitive, I could always feel my bottom lip start to quiver. He would look right at me, and tell me that if I cried, I was to leave the table. I dont know how many kids could sit there and not cry after that. I would leave the table, hungry.

We had to eat even what we didnt like. My mother tried to ensure that she cooked accordingly, but sometimes he wanted things we didnt like. I left the table, hungry.

Later, my step father came along. He was a brute. He was so abusive I cant even begin to tell you. He bought foods we were NOT allowed to have. Danger danger danger, to anyone who touched anything like that!

On many occasions he up ended our table. He didnt like how his steak was cooked...my mother said something he didnt like...on and on and on.

There was sexual abuse too. Various people from the age of 3 that I can remember. There are somethings I cant look at, let alone put in my mouth, and that is all I will say about that.

Enola talked about mouth noises at the table, and boy, can I relate to that! I hate it...drives me crazy, and keeps me from enjoying a meal with many different people.

Beauty talked about not feeling like she has a home. I worked for a long time with the homeless population in Toronto. Even though I had a home, and the things that went along with that, I often felt like I was homeless. I think its a state of mind more than anything else. A sense of belonging is so important to human beings.

I was always so sensitive, so different from my sister and brothers, that I was often made fun of. Once my parents divorced they remarried...and I didnt feel like I belonged in either home. My step father was sexually, physically and emotionally abusive, and my step mom, outright told me, that she didnt want me around. Oh, it was different when I was an adult, then I was the one she called to take her places....to do do do for her. And stupid me, I wanted to belong, so I did it!

I know that feeling of not belonging so well. The only time and place I have not felt it, is here...where I live now, so far away from everyone. My husband, 2 dogs and I. I feel like I belong here.

I'm feeling a bit of rage right now. Its not right, and its not fair. I should feel that I belong with my sister, and with my brothers. I should feel just as good as them...that I am worth just as much, and I dont. That is the cold dark truth, and I dont know what to do to change that fact.

Its been a long while since this has bubbled up...and its probably good that its happening now. I realize...this is what happens....exactly what I feel, every time I go home. Maybe I can get it out of my system before heading home.