This has taken me a long time to write here, not because I am so busy or that I don't have anything to say. I have a hard time looking back at what I have been through and where I was to where I am now. It's not easy, looking back at where I was. To remember the pain and confusion the self hate, depression. I am not a strong person. I know that some people say I am I'm really not. I wanted what everyone wants. To be loved, to be taken care of. I wanted someone to look at me and see the pain I was in to rescue me. It didn't happen. I wanted someone to see it was not just my mother I needed to be free from, but my brothers and their friends. I know most people have siblings that they don't always get along with, I had siblings that hated me. I had not done anything other to be born. That might sound melodramatic, but in this case it was true. I always thought they hated me, that I had done something wrong and if I could just try hard enough they would see that there was nothing that I did wrong. They would see that I was not a horrible person I was like them. But I know now that was never going to happen.
I say that my brothers hated me for being born, not because I thought they were mean to me. which they were. No I know this for a fact because my oldest brother told me this a few years ago, he poured out his heart to me on the phone one of the several hours he made because he was drunk and well he felt he needed to let me know he hated me because he thought the reason our parents got divorced was me. He blamed me my entire life, and never hesitated to take his anger out on me. Be it physical or mental he held it against me. Blamed me for everything that went wrong, even once tried to kill me. See my mom loved to tell me how when I was like three years old my older brothers fed me poisonous berries. She would say that they had to rush me to hospital and pump my stomach, my brothers had thought they were feeding me strawberries. Or so they told her. But during one of the many unwanted phone calls he confessed that they knew the berries were poisonous and as a way to get me to eat them they told me they were strawberries. He thought if I was dead my parents would not fight.Only when I got real sick, did they get scared and told my mom. I was three at the time, he was seven, my other brother was six. This set the scene for the rest of my life. They hated me and I had done nothing more then be unfortunate enough to be born into this family.
When he told me this I felt I had validation for what I had always felt. I never fit in and was never good enough. No matter what I tried and no matter what I said I would never be accepted by them cause they hated me. He told me he no longer hated or blamed me, like I should rejoice or my life was complete because he forgave me for being born. Yeah well too little too late. He is a bitter man with a failed marriage, a daughter that runs wild he lives with our dad and has no plans to move at age 41. He also admitted he was jealous of me now too. Because my marriage was a good one, because I had good kids because I was happy. Really what was i supposed to do with that? The irony in this is even when he didn't hate me he still does not like me.
When I was younger I would have tried to make him see my life was not perfect, that my marriage was hard work, and my kids were good and polite because my husband and I worked on them together. That we were a family because we worked on it. I love and respect my husband and he me, our kids reflect that. But it is not my place to explain to him how a family works. I don't need his love or understanding, I don't need for him to love me, I have my husband and kids that do. I am not perfect, nor is my family. But we turn to each other when life gets tough instead of tearing each other down. It's not my place or my job to teach him this. I don't need his approval or his understanding. I have grown beyond that and have found happiness and contentment in my life not because of what I have been though but despite it.
In truth I owe him nothing, want nothing from him and I am okay with it.
I say that my brothers hated me for being born, not because I thought they were mean to me. which they were. No I know this for a fact because my oldest brother told me this a few years ago, he poured out his heart to me on the phone one of the several hours he made because he was drunk and well he felt he needed to let me know he hated me because he thought the reason our parents got divorced was me. He blamed me my entire life, and never hesitated to take his anger out on me. Be it physical or mental he held it against me. Blamed me for everything that went wrong, even once tried to kill me. See my mom loved to tell me how when I was like three years old my older brothers fed me poisonous berries. She would say that they had to rush me to hospital and pump my stomach, my brothers had thought they were feeding me strawberries. Or so they told her. But during one of the many unwanted phone calls he confessed that they knew the berries were poisonous and as a way to get me to eat them they told me they were strawberries. He thought if I was dead my parents would not fight.Only when I got real sick, did they get scared and told my mom. I was three at the time, he was seven, my other brother was six. This set the scene for the rest of my life. They hated me and I had done nothing more then be unfortunate enough to be born into this family.
When he told me this I felt I had validation for what I had always felt. I never fit in and was never good enough. No matter what I tried and no matter what I said I would never be accepted by them cause they hated me. He told me he no longer hated or blamed me, like I should rejoice or my life was complete because he forgave me for being born. Yeah well too little too late. He is a bitter man with a failed marriage, a daughter that runs wild he lives with our dad and has no plans to move at age 41. He also admitted he was jealous of me now too. Because my marriage was a good one, because I had good kids because I was happy. Really what was i supposed to do with that? The irony in this is even when he didn't hate me he still does not like me.
When I was younger I would have tried to make him see my life was not perfect, that my marriage was hard work, and my kids were good and polite because my husband and I worked on them together. That we were a family because we worked on it. I love and respect my husband and he me, our kids reflect that. But it is not my place to explain to him how a family works. I don't need his love or understanding, I don't need for him to love me, I have my husband and kids that do. I am not perfect, nor is my family. But we turn to each other when life gets tough instead of tearing each other down. It's not my place or my job to teach him this. I don't need his approval or his understanding. I have grown beyond that and have found happiness and contentment in my life not because of what I have been though but despite it.
In truth I owe him nothing, want nothing from him and I am okay with it.
