Earlier this evening, I finally got around to doing something that my reiki teacher recommended for me. Itís a way to search for what they call a karmic resolution. For some reason, Iíd been resisting it, but I find that resistance to solutions is the case for many people. Especially because most of the resolutions have to do with facing some fear or another.
Today, Iím feeling ok. Iíve been home alone. I did laundry, dishes, 5 crossword puzzles. You know, the usual stuff.
Anyway, I went along with the reiki process, asking for my karmic solution. It was very faint, first, it came to me that I needed to express something, some kind of emotion, something to do with hurt. Then I realized, damn itÖ it wants me express my pain to my parents. ACK.
Thatís probably never happening, but I doubt it has to be literal, either. Iím not even to the point where I can express my childhood issues to myself, let alone to my parents or anyone else.
Or maybe all of this is coming up because of my brother. He surprised me. He never used to be one to criticize our parents, but this time, he had plenty to say. He wasnít overly harsh, but being critical, at all, is a big change for him. Itís usually me who is critical and he who defends them. Well, defends our dad. Neither of us are critical of our mom because weíve both accepted, long ago, that she had no control over her own actions.
Our father is supposedly of sound mind, but just a bad, bad parent.
It seems like heís going through a childhood related process, right now. Maybe it just had to do with being back in the states and knowing that heíd have to see family while he was here. I was a bit taken aback by how much he could recall and how sharply he remembered things. He wasnít shying away from the memories, like I tend to do. Most of my memory from before the age of 18 is vague and hazy, and Iím usually quite glad about that.
The other thing is that when I do recall stories, even though, in reality, theyíre very sad, I often find them funny because they are so ridiculous.
For example, my brother brought up the lies our father would tell us as little kids. Horror stories that would keep us up at night. My dad thought it was hilarious to tell us these things. Heíd bring them up in front of his druggy/alcoholic friends, and when weíd shiver and cower and weep, heíd point at us and laugh with them.
I thought it was just me. I figured it had to be just me because my brother never before expressed having had any problems with it. I had also believed that I had just been a silly kid, who misinterpreted facts or was too stupid to get the joke.
When he brought that up, and brought up how it made him feel, I told him about a lie our dad had told me when I was maybe 6 or 7. I believed it until my early 20ís because it had never occurred to me to question it.
Adam was sitting with us when we were discussing this, and he commented that it was bizarre that our dad would do such a thing. I was thinking along those lines, as well, but then my brother responded, ďItís mean. Itís cruel to treat children that way; just plain mean.Ē
Thatís when it occurred to me that our dad wasnít just neglectful. He was also mean, but it was all psychological.
My brother also seems to attribute a lot of our social problems to him, as well. We both struggle in relationships of all kinds. Growing up without proper guidance was a difficult process for both of us. Again, it was one of those situations where I just blamed myself. I was a weirdo who couldnít manage in society.
I wasnít weirder than the average weirdo, especially considering that I practically grew up feral. I know that now. I have a wider perspective. I had to work very, very hard, on my own, to learn how to get along with others, and to this day, I still struggle with it.
Funny how I mentioned a few weeks ago or something about how it was lucky that I didnít need braces as a kid. At some point, I mentioned my teeth issues to him and how I think it might be related to having been under too much stress at a young age, preventing my adult teeth from forming. He mentioned that he should have had braces. Apparently, he had an under bite that should have been corrected when he was in junior high. Instead, it ďcorrectedĒ itself, and now his bottom teeth are crowded together and thatís causing issues.
Long ago, my brother used to be mad at me because after my first couple of years of college, I disappeared. I was out of touch for 4 or 5 years, and I think he had a notion in his head that I still owed them my responsibility. I had been the one that kept things mildly sane most of the time. I had no desire for that responsibility, though, and I didnít want to continue with it. I think the expectation was that I would continue to serve the family, to my own detriment, but I never had that plan. No one in my immediate family seemed to think it was unfair to put that responsibility on me, either.
I do remember being fourteen though, and being at my grandmotherís house. She told me that she hoped that I didnít feel like I had to take care of my mother once I became an adult. She told me to not feel guilty for living my life and doing whatís best for me. She didnít have to tell me. If thereís one thing I learned from my dad, it was the art of unreliability. We were not taught that dependability was a virtue. Yes, I took care of things the best I could at home, but only because I had no choice. I knew I either had to keep things looking relatively normal for the social workers or risk entering the foster care system.
Who knows? Maybe itíd have been better, maybe itíd been worse. Thinking back, I think my main concern was being separated from my brother.
When I first left home, all I wanted to do was put my childhood behind me, and I did that. It took me a few years, but I managed. Now maybe itís time to start doing more than that. I feel like itís getting to the point where I need to start chipping away at that monolith of hurt, if I want to continue moving forward.
All I have to say about that is: Blech! Life sucks. Iíd rather numbly do crossword after crossword, even though that will most definitely make me nutty, after awhile. I could feel myself losing grip with reality, so I cut myself off, then I waited about a couple of hours and let myself have one more. Now I think I might be able to go back to normalcy. I probably wonít touch them once I go back to work.
|Friday, Jul. 08, 2011 at 10:01 PM|