Day 4

 It's pretty hard, every day, being triggered. Seeing my former father do and say things to you that remind me of how I was treated by them when I was a child. It's incredibly triggering. I feel anger, frustration, rage, irritation, annoyance, sadness, powerlessness, helplessness, hopelessness, anguish, despair. I grieve for myself as a child and what I went through with no one standing with me. No one to speak up for me. It's the only saving grace I have, in these moments, is at least you have me. I am here, an adult, who can speak for you and advocate for you. But it's not easy, because I have to break through all this conditioning that was done to me before I could understand. I have to see it, identify it, identify what is going on, why it's not ok, what to do instead. And usually that's after the moment has passed, after the initial triggering emotions have somewhat settled and I'm able to look at the point in detail. Once I've accepted that it's happening, it's too late to stop it now and I will have to now introspect and prepare myself for the 'next time'. Which I don't know when exactly will happen, how tired I'll be, how well I will do in directing the situation. 

I'm already so sleep deprived, it's ridiculous. But there's no way I would ever force you out of my bed and on your own. No way. Our connection is too important for you, and I'm sure it's important for me too. I would never tell a child, no you can't sleep here with me, your mother, your safety, your person, your one point in the world that will care for you absolutely unconditionally. No way will I turn you away from that. I'm sorry there are times where I am overwhelmed and might have to walk away for just a moment, but I'm always here, even if a moment away once in a while. The vast majority of the time, I am pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, the delirium, finding whatever calm I can amongst the frayed nerves sometimes at the brink of breakdown. I'm HERE for YOU. 

My cup was not filled as a child. I am now doing my best to retroactively fill my own cup, while I fill yours. It's not fair, it's not fun, despite the moments of utter fun and joy, it's not what it should be. This world is not what it should be. Countless horrors are happening to children and mothers and families every day, still. Whether it's destruction through war, or being born to abusers who should be your protectors, it is extreme and constant. It's hard to rectify having expectations or hopes for any child to have a good life, when the reality for so many is pure torture, abuse and injury that will affect their lives for the rest of their life, impeding their joy and simple functional capabilities as a physical being in a physical reality.

None of this is fair or right. I will always advocate for the best for everyone, and it won't be a front that I put on to the world to create an image while in my actual life I exploit and abuse covertly. But unfortunately there are those who do just that. And they are even aware of it and doing it deliberately. I knew there were people who didn't care and lived to harm others, but I didn't know in a lot of cases it is more subtle than you might expect. It's not always so black and white, like Disney villains would have you think. It's always easy to tell who the 'bad guy' is, he's just straight up mean and devious. But the worst are the 'bad guys' who pretend to be 'good guys'. They can be hard to spot. 

But there are ways to protect yourself, and I am learning so that I can model these ways to my daughter. I have to. I can't let her repeat my life. As I said, my cup was not filled at home. By the time the teenage hormones hit, I was desperately seeking the connection I had been missing most of my life. With no guidance or good examples of how to find it while being safe. No wonder my mom was controlling and didn't want to let me out of the house. But that didn't help. My father was totally permissive. That didn't help either. To this day I don't understand how he can just seem to not care one iota about things like smoking around a child. I had to se a boundary around that or I would lose my mind. The main reason I ever started smoking was because it was modeled in my own home from the beginning of my life by both of my parents. The first cigarettes I ever smoked were theirs. I developed asthma. 

The first asthma attack I had, at age 11, I told my mother I couldn't breathe. She said in an acidic tone, 'then go wake your father'. She was my mother, and she turned me away in my serious time of need. I didn't feel like I was supposed to 'wake my father' in that moment. I felt like I was being bad, a problem, and I needed to just keep it to myself and deal with it myself. So I just sat there trying to carefully slowly breathe and get enough oxygen. Eventually the attack ended. No one helped me. The next attack I had when I was 14, was the night before christmas, and I had to go to the emergency room.

I don't want any of this for my daughter. I suppose I should consider myself 'blessed' that I now find myself in this 'opportunity' to be facing all these specific points that I was raised with that affected me so greatly throughout my life. I can see so clearly now how every behavior affected my self confidence, self belief, ability to focus, my energy levels, my posture, my lack of ability to identify behaviors that are not ok, ways of being treated that shouldn't be accepted. Everything that I've 'inherited'. I had to do a lot of work to dig myself out of a pattern of laziness that is still alive and well in my former father. I hear it now everyday as he shuffles and drags their feet across the floor, and various other ways. The way of just 'doing the minimum' that is so typical of a lot of males who live a 'bachelor' kind of lifestyle. I think that's a 'nice word' for it. From what I can tell they grew up in a family where the girls and mother did the house work, and the boys... uhhhh...hmmmm...

Someday I sincerely hope to never ever ever live with anyone who does not actively participate in household maintenance and cleaning up after themself. I'm not anybody's maid. I'm not anybody's mother besides Nika, and I'm here to instill valuable habits in her for her own benefit which includes loving your environment by regular care. And I find it's harder to live that around others who do not. Who live the lazy, 'do the minimum' 'lifestyle'. I don't want Nika to pick up those patterns for herself, and especially as I'm the one who everything will fall on for however long she decides to not participate. That's basically what happened to my mother, between her being so bitter and frustrated about chores that I was completely turned off, and the example of my father not really doing any of it and letting it all fall on my mother's shoulders like that's her role. He would work but once he came home it was basically chill. On the computer. Computer games. It was a lonely childhood. And my mother was often overwhelmed and very much took it out on me. I wasn't even 'bad'. She remembers me as 'being good'. I remember the yelling, the swearing, calling me a little shit, growling at me to 'SMILE!' when I was sad. I don't remember good times.