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Aug. 22nd, 2010 03:24 pmIt came as no real surprise to, for the first time, consciously understand why I spent so much of my life believing that even those whom I called my best friends were only merely tolerating my presence rather than actually wanting to be around me. At best, I considered myself to be just another tag-along in their social circle. At worst I believed wholeheartedly that they were only putting up with my presence so that they could learn humiliating things to laugh about later.
The reason for this is how my parents treated me.
This Friday, my father got back into the city and asked if I wanted to get together. I sent him a reply (this was through Facebook messaging) that I was free all Saturday and he could just let me know when we could meet up. He'd suggested a local BBQ festival might be fun, and I agreed.
No reply until evening, after I had spent the entire day thinking to myself, "I'll wait another hour and see if he calls. Just one more hour. Maybe he's sent an email." I didn't eat, because I thought that at any moment we'd be going out to eat tasty BBQ food. But that email in the evening said that ooops, he'd been busy all day, and maybe we could get together Sunday instead?
I suppose taking 30 second to call me would have been too much to ask.
My mother called today to express surprise that he and I hadn't met up. I told her I'd sent him a message on Friday and he didn't reply until Saturday, and that I had plans today anyway. "Oh," she said, "well he gave me something to give to you."
Yes, he spent yesterday with my mother. Taking her shopping. Buying all her groceries. Evidently planning to not see me today, really, if he went so far as to give something to my mother to give to me.
"Luck you," I said when she told me that he paid for her groceries. The bitterness in my voice was lost on her. She makes about $500 a month more than she needs. I make $500 too little.
Not the first such incident. The Pride parade was another great example. My mother said she'd come, and even march with me. Then she forgot all about it and made plans to meet up with my father instead. She later sent me an email saying that she must have underestimated how much it meant to me.
That all reminded me of the time last year that I was doing my first stage performance since high school, and she had told me she'd come. She didn't. She apparently spent too long on the phone talking to my father, then lay down for a nap and didn't bother to set the alarm.
But hey, she's willing to pay for a gym membership for me, right? That shows she cares!
Except that the only reason she did it is so she wouldn't have to go by herself, because she felt too intimidated to do so. If someone else was there with her, someone larger than her and therefore not as threatening as all the skinny people she wants to be like, then it's okay.
I'm a convenience item. They take it for granted that I'm going to be there when they want me to be and that I'm just going to happily go away when they've got anything else to do. And by "anything else," I mean such inconsequential things as spending half an hour at Starbucks drinking overpriced coffee beverages, which usually means that any and all plans with me are automatically cancelled, even if both things could be done in a day.
No, it's no wonder that I spent my life thinking that people only tolerated me and didn't actually like me. Even my own parents treated me that way. I'm a pretty little thing to show off. "Look at all she's accomplished, you must be so proud of her, you must be wonderful parents!" "I'm not going to be seen in public with you if you don't dress more nicely." I'm a display piece. Something seen and not heard, and only seen when it's for the benefit of other people. Other than that, I may as well not be here.
And they still can't comprehend why I spent over half of my life suffering from depression, alternating between apathy, half-hearted rebellion, and outright self-harm and suicide attempts. They think themselves good parents, and can't understand why I have so many problems with them and with what they do. They've given me so much, after all, that surely all the other piddly little things mustn't matter anymore.
Of course they don't. To them. I, on the other hand, get a slap in the face when I reach out for parental connections. I must just go on smiling and pretending nothing's wrong, that their slights and oversights don't bother me at all.
Rei's sitting across from me playing Dragon Age. We're not even looking at each other, and we haven't said much, but so far today, he's actually paid more attention to me than my parents have. And cares more about what I have to say and what I feel.
It's odd, though. Sometimes when this sort of thing happens, parts of me shut down and cease to feel. Protection, I suppose, because otherwise I'd probably burst into frustrated tears. But when this happens, Rei can rant for an hour about how lousy my parents are and how badly they treat me and how inconsiderate they are, and it always surprises me because it feels like he's more angry about it than I am. I'd be angrier, but it would just hurt me more.
But maybe if I let myself be angrier, I'd stop hoping that they'd eventually learn and remember that I have a schedule and feelings and ought to be considered as much as themselves. If I stopped hoping for that, then there'd be no real let-down when they didn't do as they said.
But I'm tired of crying. It's selfish, and probably backwards, but I don't want to have to work through this in order to not feel pain because they can't learn. I'd actually rather suppress it, squash it down and let Rei be angry on my behalf, than let myself sob one more time.
The reason for this is how my parents treated me.
This Friday, my father got back into the city and asked if I wanted to get together. I sent him a reply (this was through Facebook messaging) that I was free all Saturday and he could just let me know when we could meet up. He'd suggested a local BBQ festival might be fun, and I agreed.
No reply until evening, after I had spent the entire day thinking to myself, "I'll wait another hour and see if he calls. Just one more hour. Maybe he's sent an email." I didn't eat, because I thought that at any moment we'd be going out to eat tasty BBQ food. But that email in the evening said that ooops, he'd been busy all day, and maybe we could get together Sunday instead?
I suppose taking 30 second to call me would have been too much to ask.
My mother called today to express surprise that he and I hadn't met up. I told her I'd sent him a message on Friday and he didn't reply until Saturday, and that I had plans today anyway. "Oh," she said, "well he gave me something to give to you."
Yes, he spent yesterday with my mother. Taking her shopping. Buying all her groceries. Evidently planning to not see me today, really, if he went so far as to give something to my mother to give to me.
"Luck you," I said when she told me that he paid for her groceries. The bitterness in my voice was lost on her. She makes about $500 a month more than she needs. I make $500 too little.
Not the first such incident. The Pride parade was another great example. My mother said she'd come, and even march with me. Then she forgot all about it and made plans to meet up with my father instead. She later sent me an email saying that she must have underestimated how much it meant to me.
That all reminded me of the time last year that I was doing my first stage performance since high school, and she had told me she'd come. She didn't. She apparently spent too long on the phone talking to my father, then lay down for a nap and didn't bother to set the alarm.
But hey, she's willing to pay for a gym membership for me, right? That shows she cares!
Except that the only reason she did it is so she wouldn't have to go by herself, because she felt too intimidated to do so. If someone else was there with her, someone larger than her and therefore not as threatening as all the skinny people she wants to be like, then it's okay.
I'm a convenience item. They take it for granted that I'm going to be there when they want me to be and that I'm just going to happily go away when they've got anything else to do. And by "anything else," I mean such inconsequential things as spending half an hour at Starbucks drinking overpriced coffee beverages, which usually means that any and all plans with me are automatically cancelled, even if both things could be done in a day.
No, it's no wonder that I spent my life thinking that people only tolerated me and didn't actually like me. Even my own parents treated me that way. I'm a pretty little thing to show off. "Look at all she's accomplished, you must be so proud of her, you must be wonderful parents!" "I'm not going to be seen in public with you if you don't dress more nicely." I'm a display piece. Something seen and not heard, and only seen when it's for the benefit of other people. Other than that, I may as well not be here.
And they still can't comprehend why I spent over half of my life suffering from depression, alternating between apathy, half-hearted rebellion, and outright self-harm and suicide attempts. They think themselves good parents, and can't understand why I have so many problems with them and with what they do. They've given me so much, after all, that surely all the other piddly little things mustn't matter anymore.
Of course they don't. To them. I, on the other hand, get a slap in the face when I reach out for parental connections. I must just go on smiling and pretending nothing's wrong, that their slights and oversights don't bother me at all.
Rei's sitting across from me playing Dragon Age. We're not even looking at each other, and we haven't said much, but so far today, he's actually paid more attention to me than my parents have. And cares more about what I have to say and what I feel.
It's odd, though. Sometimes when this sort of thing happens, parts of me shut down and cease to feel. Protection, I suppose, because otherwise I'd probably burst into frustrated tears. But when this happens, Rei can rant for an hour about how lousy my parents are and how badly they treat me and how inconsiderate they are, and it always surprises me because it feels like he's more angry about it than I am. I'd be angrier, but it would just hurt me more.
But maybe if I let myself be angrier, I'd stop hoping that they'd eventually learn and remember that I have a schedule and feelings and ought to be considered as much as themselves. If I stopped hoping for that, then there'd be no real let-down when they didn't do as they said.
But I'm tired of crying. It's selfish, and probably backwards, but I don't want to have to work through this in order to not feel pain because they can't learn. I'd actually rather suppress it, squash it down and let Rei be angry on my behalf, than let myself sob one more time.