Last night I spent 3 hours with KP. We just talked and held each other close. It’s almost weird how comfortable and close we feel to each other. It is also very nice; I mean who doesn’t want to feel safe and excepted?
We also talk on the phone a lot. I mean like hours a day. I always enjoy talking to him. He has a knack for being honest, caring and boiling my crazy thoughts down to simple concepts. I can’t tell you how many times he says “well I think it’s like this……” and then I think “that is IT exactly!” Let’s just say we get each other. I know, I know….still all very new but hey, I am enjoying it.
I figured out why I felt so bad after I left Georges office yesterday. It is because he makes me feel like my marriage is more important than me. He is in “save the marriage at all costs” mode. I am at the point where I feel the marriage is harming me and I wish we could actually discuss that possibility. I really would like an objective person to help me with my logic. I am obviously not in a position to really think clearly and trust my own judgment.
Time to look for a new therapist….again.
Of course, George loved the idea of asking husband for 2 hours a week. I plan on discussing it with him tonight. I expect he will agree to the idea whole heartedly but then figure out a way to weasel out of it later. George says I should NOT let him weasel. I am to tell Husband “you agreed to do this and I need you to follow through and I need to know that when you agree to something you mean it”. I do wish I could summon George to help me with ALL conversation with my husband!
Did I tell you I saw my mom last week? I stopped by there on my way to the airport. (I took a mini vacation to NYC last weekend.) I arrived at her house, grabbed a snack and sat down to visit with her. We quickly ran out of things to say and felt uncomfortable so I went ahead and left for the airport a little early. It makes me sad that I don't have "real" parents. What do you think I did with my extra time at the airport?? Well talk to KP on my phone of course.
Well poop, I have to get to work. I do have a job and for the next few months it is going to be busy.
I will keep trying to post daily if it is at all possible.
Showing posts with label Ma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ma. Show all posts
Friday, November 15, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Ma
My mother was always a good girl and minded her folks. She was always a good student. She told me when she was in high school, just for fun, she decided to read all the books in the library. She started at one end reading them in order on down the shelf. I hope it was a fairly small library!
Later when she went off to college her folks got mad at her because she dated a Jewish boy. Oh the horror! LOL Originally on track for a teaching degree; student teaching changed her mind so she switched majors to Engineering; a bold move for a girl in the late 40s. She graduated with honors in just 3 years because classes were free after so many credit hours so she just loaded up.
Armed with a degree in Electrical Engineering she landed a job at McDonald Douglas and moved from Iowa to St. Louis. One time she showed me some of her old work clothes. She had the dresses with the cinched up waste and darted bodice; matching purses and shoes to go with. I even tried one on and it fit. I think she had a pretty nice build in her time.
While working she dated a lot, searching for the perfect husband, but in no rush since she could certainly support herself. Eventually she met my father and they fell in love. She obviously was OK with my father leaving his wife for her yet this is something we have never discussed. I am sure my father painted a good picture to make it all work. I also believe she was very naïve about the ways of the world.
They got married in my Grandparents church in Iowa. It was a small wedding and she only received a wedding band, no engagement ring. I am sure times were tight but I think she was too “frugal” to ask for much. She would return to the house that my father’s ex-wife had recently vacated complete with 2 teenagers still living there. She was pretty shocked by them.
Once pregnant with me she had to quit work as soon as she was showing…company policy. So she became a stay at home mom. I was born almost exactly one year after they were wed. Her favorite story of all is when my little brother was born, the nurses all came to look at the old lady who had given birth at the ripe old age of 38.
My older (half) sister was about 16 when I was born and has since told me many a story of how terrible my mother was with kids and how she can’t believe we survived. From my own memory I recall things like she did not brush my hair so I had a terrible permanent rats nest in the back where my coat would rub. Oh and she can’t cook anything but meat loaf and it is an acquired taste. My mother does not talk baby talk to babies (or anyone). I didn’t know that until I had her grandkids and she told me she won’t and doesn’t talk baby talk ever.
I remember her always trying to keep us in line so we would not upset our father. Pop was the moody one prone to lash out for no reason. We “walked on egg shells” at my house. My mother was the negative and co-dependent. She was always critical and telling us how we were wrong. They were both very emotionally distant and did not hug us or tell us they loved us. We were not treated affectionately at all. I recall as an adult thinking I should hug my parents and forcing myself to do it. It always feels awkward and forced.
When I was a kid I was not allowed in my parent’s bed room or the office (spare bedroom). Both rooms had an imaginary gate that we were not allowed to cross. If our parent was in that room and we needed them we stood at the doorway and yelled after them. Also, we were not allowed in the dining room or living room. Large portions of the house were off limits. I chuckled when the living room chairs were finally old and worn out and had to be thrown away. No one had ever sat in them. They just faded away after sitting there in the fancy room for so many years.
When I was born I was given my older (half) brothers room while he was off fighting in Vietnam. My mom would never repaint the walls a new color because it was too much work so the whole 16 years I lived there I had olive green walls.
My parents also always conveyed to us one way or another that we were not important. That we were not considered people (no child was). We did not have feelings or opinions of worth to the adults. My parents certainly communicated that. There was always this message of “oh please don’t tell me you are upset! You are a child. You have no worries. You can’t possibly be upset.”
My mother was a martyr always reminding us how she sacrificed everything she wanted for everyone else. She would say “I had a great figure till I had you kids”. Or “I used to be able to read till I had you kids”. I remember when Friss was young and I went to college and I felt guilty for not having more time for him but then I thought to myself…at least I am not complaining that I “can’t go to college because I had you” Which is what my mother would have said.
Later when she went off to college her folks got mad at her because she dated a Jewish boy. Oh the horror! LOL Originally on track for a teaching degree; student teaching changed her mind so she switched majors to Engineering; a bold move for a girl in the late 40s. She graduated with honors in just 3 years because classes were free after so many credit hours so she just loaded up.
Armed with a degree in Electrical Engineering she landed a job at McDonald Douglas and moved from Iowa to St. Louis. One time she showed me some of her old work clothes. She had the dresses with the cinched up waste and darted bodice; matching purses and shoes to go with. I even tried one on and it fit. I think she had a pretty nice build in her time.
While working she dated a lot, searching for the perfect husband, but in no rush since she could certainly support herself. Eventually she met my father and they fell in love. She obviously was OK with my father leaving his wife for her yet this is something we have never discussed. I am sure my father painted a good picture to make it all work. I also believe she was very naïve about the ways of the world.
They got married in my Grandparents church in Iowa. It was a small wedding and she only received a wedding band, no engagement ring. I am sure times were tight but I think she was too “frugal” to ask for much. She would return to the house that my father’s ex-wife had recently vacated complete with 2 teenagers still living there. She was pretty shocked by them.
Once pregnant with me she had to quit work as soon as she was showing…company policy. So she became a stay at home mom. I was born almost exactly one year after they were wed. Her favorite story of all is when my little brother was born, the nurses all came to look at the old lady who had given birth at the ripe old age of 38.
My older (half) sister was about 16 when I was born and has since told me many a story of how terrible my mother was with kids and how she can’t believe we survived. From my own memory I recall things like she did not brush my hair so I had a terrible permanent rats nest in the back where my coat would rub. Oh and she can’t cook anything but meat loaf and it is an acquired taste. My mother does not talk baby talk to babies (or anyone). I didn’t know that until I had her grandkids and she told me she won’t and doesn’t talk baby talk ever.
I remember her always trying to keep us in line so we would not upset our father. Pop was the moody one prone to lash out for no reason. We “walked on egg shells” at my house. My mother was the negative and co-dependent. She was always critical and telling us how we were wrong. They were both very emotionally distant and did not hug us or tell us they loved us. We were not treated affectionately at all. I recall as an adult thinking I should hug my parents and forcing myself to do it. It always feels awkward and forced.
When I was a kid I was not allowed in my parent’s bed room or the office (spare bedroom). Both rooms had an imaginary gate that we were not allowed to cross. If our parent was in that room and we needed them we stood at the doorway and yelled after them. Also, we were not allowed in the dining room or living room. Large portions of the house were off limits. I chuckled when the living room chairs were finally old and worn out and had to be thrown away. No one had ever sat in them. They just faded away after sitting there in the fancy room for so many years.
When I was born I was given my older (half) brothers room while he was off fighting in Vietnam. My mom would never repaint the walls a new color because it was too much work so the whole 16 years I lived there I had olive green walls.
My parents also always conveyed to us one way or another that we were not important. That we were not considered people (no child was). We did not have feelings or opinions of worth to the adults. My parents certainly communicated that. There was always this message of “oh please don’t tell me you are upset! You are a child. You have no worries. You can’t possibly be upset.”
My mother was a martyr always reminding us how she sacrificed everything she wanted for everyone else. She would say “I had a great figure till I had you kids”. Or “I used to be able to read till I had you kids”. I remember when Friss was young and I went to college and I felt guilty for not having more time for him but then I thought to myself…at least I am not complaining that I “can’t go to college because I had you” Which is what my mother would have said.
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