A Heart's a Heavy Burden

I’m trying not to freak out about next week. I am working on two commissions for scarves, trying to get them done by Christmas, but I really don’t think I’m going to make it… one for sure will be done, and that one is a higher priority because the first commission said the scarf is not REQUIRED by Christmas, but it would be nice. When I talked with Becca about my hours when I was hired, I was very clear in that I didn’t want more than 10-15 hours, no matter what. I was assured that it would NOT be an issue because there were so many people hired. Next week I am scheduled for 26 hours. Including a day I specifically said that I couldn’t attend because I have my super important program meeting for school that day. Ugh. Steve reminded me that it’s just my crappy part-time retail job that I don’t care about, but it’s still pretty stressful. I have this uncontrollable sense of guilt for any remote feeling of letting people down or putting them in a bind. Heh.

 

 

 

So on top of 60 working hours next week I also have another tattoo appointment, which Laura has graciously decided will be a free session (mostly because I’ve been paying $250 per session and providing a generous $50 tip for her each go – tattoo artists often get shit to zero in tips), my program meeting, AND a regular face-to-face session for school. Oh, and my urology appointment that will probably mean I am late to BBW that day. DEEP BREATHS.

 

 

 

I’m a bit sad because working means that I am missing Christmas dinner with Steve’s sweet grandpa on Tuesday, going up north to visit Steve’s family (most notably his sister and her kids) on the weekend, and possibly some of my own family’s Christmas on the 24th. But! I will at least get SOME family time that day (I feel like it’s unlikely that I will be working that full day but I could be wrong), and most important of all, I get Christmas Day with Steve. It will be amazing. I bought him so many great gifts this year!

 

 

 

Things on the relationship front have been pretty good. I’ve been working on not being as aloof (with 50/50 success tbh), and Steve and I had an opportunity to discuss what we simply call my Autism – because that’s really a fair diagnosis – when he was having a bad day and I was trying to comfort him. He got a phone call from his dad in the middle of it and THAT was when I learned he was going up north the weekend of the 21st/22nd, unbeknownst to me until that moment. During our conversation he pointed out that I completely shut down when I am processing surprise information. In light of that revelation I actually burst out laughing. See, when I was with Dan all we ever did was explode. I feel like I am a talker, an arguer, a let’s-work-this-out-don’t-you-dare-walk-away-er. When Steve made me realize that apparently in reaction to being a yeller, I have actually moved to the other side of the spectrum. As a person who feels incredibly self-aware (and really, just aware of everything in general) it is rare that I don’t know something about myself. I thanked Steve for helping me realize that, and now that I know this information, I can work on it. I still tried my best to explain how me processing information is extremely rigid and I don’t know HOW to be there for him when I am struggling with a change (a CLASSIC part of my Autism), which was his primary concern. He was upset that I was being selfish and stopped trying to make HIM feel better because I decided my problem was more important/urgent. We discussed that because Steve gets mopey less often, I have less practice in working through things that send me into Reaction Mode. Dan was a pouter, a moper, a crier… all for attention. He wanted me to coddle him, to hold him, to remind him over and over again that I cared about him. It got to a point that I was so annoyed with him any time he behaved like that, I would start screaming at him, telling him to suck it up. I have dragged him down stairs, I have left him sobbing in hallways… I didn’t have it in me to take care of him that way. I am not a touchy-feely person, and comforting someone when they believe I have hurt them in some way, when they are behaving so dramatically, and ON PURPOSE, is too hard for me. Dan would admit that he would act in those ways so that he could provoke a certain reaction or a certain phrase for me. He said he relished my efforts to make him feel better so he would draw out the attention as long as he could. Which in turn would absolutely infuriate me. Tangent aside, I still struggle with the fear that Steve will begin behaving the same way because he craves attention from me. I realize that while it speaks to how people will do anything for attention. But I am also aware that this type of pattern shows that I don’t provide enough attention, enough affection. Which isn’t good. I need to fix that.

 

ETA: I just received another payment for a scarf,  this time without the buyer discussing it with me. hope she doesn't want the scarf before Christmas because... no.

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Bahhh. Bahahaha! Oh did they!



Just kidding. Overall I think I was raised pretty well; it's in raising me to be independent and think for myself that got them into trouble. My stepdad especially was not prepared for me to challenge him on anything when I became an adult. We've been in this limbo where if I do something wrong, I'm not acting like an "adult." However, if I stand up to him in any way, he tries to force me into a child's role, because that's where he's comfortable.

Looking at my actual childhood. Hmm. I suppose things I considered normal in my family, aren't? That's a stupid statement anyway because every family is different, but looking back I think I was punished far more harshly than I deserved. I didn't get nearly as much slack as my siblings (I'm the oldest), and I spent a good deal of my childhood grounded and in my room for minor infractions, including but not limited to:

-being up past my bedtime
-not getting all A's
-as a teenager, coming home more than 5 minutes past curfew
-arguing/disagreeing
-not having chores done by 6pm
-self-injurous behavior
-hanging out with people after school without getting permission first (this all through my school years, even as a teenager)
-getting kicked out and then not coming home when demanded to

Eh. I'm whining now, but I definitely feel as if I was treated unfairly, especially when compared to my sister. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister more than life. And she got into worse situations than I did. There were a few times where things got physical with my mom and stepdad, but it was limited to pushing and the occasional belly bop. Bethany got into apparent fist fights with them (this was after I moved to Duluth), would leave for days at a time, and stopped going to school at 15.

My little brother though, I think in some ways he has it better than the two of us did, and some ways definitely worse. They give him a lot of attention and opportunities that they couldn't afford when I was growing up, such as piano lessons, multiple sports (and multiple teams at the same time if it's baseball - and youth sports is NOT cheap), they go to many events together and attend all of his games (and Paul coaches his football team). He has video game systems and his own tv, a decent bed, and actually gets to have friends over (I only got to have friends over on birthdays, and only 2 max). On the other hand, Paul is extremely hard on him about his weight as Paul is overweight and doesn't want August to turn out the same way. He gets bullied for getting dessert as well as how much or what he eats. Shit, let him be a kid! He's 12! They're hard on him about school too, but he's just starting to get into real school - he's in 6th grade.
 
We all got tons of shit for who we were friends with. My parents think they get to judge and criticize our friend choices, and apparently the best way to help you choose the "right" crowd is through bitching whenever whatever disapproved of friendship comes up. I hung out with burnouts, true, but I didn't do any drugs or drink until I was 20. I also am a more accepting and less judgmental person than they are, so I hung out with anyone I felt like as long as they're not assholes. When they became assholes, I stopped hanging out with them. Unfortunately, I think my parents took those as personal victories and meant that their bullying was effective. Bethany hung out with people they didn't like just to spite them, and people like Sarah turned out to be good. August is so young, and I really feel for him, having Paul breathing fire down his neck for hanging out with jerks. All boys are jerks at that age. He's popular; let him be. It'll work itself out.

The other biggest mistakes they made with me were:
1. The way they handled my self injurious behavior as a teen
2. The way they handled when I was sexually assaulted
The latter of the two however was as an adult and has had long-lasting effects on my day-to-day life and thinking, and it's been 2 years this month. I think that they consider it a closed case and have dusted their hands of the matter, but it deeply affects me regularly and has permanently damaged our relationship (moreso with my stepdad). I feel like a broken record, because I think about it so much it's almost as if I talk about it a lot too. I don't THINK I do, but it does relate to a lot of things in my present life. I've tried a few times to bring it up again for closure purposes, or to try again to get my point across (and ask a few questions to discover motives for why they/he behaved in such a manner - such as the name-calling, blaming, and breaking into my LJ to find out who I'm sleeping with wtf and demanding to know if I slept with Gleb wth do either of those have to do with anything?), but it always turns into near-immediate yelling on Paul's part and trying to say I'm holding a grudge and want to make sure he's never absolved of his mistakes, etc. etc. instead of just listening to me.  

As for my biological dad and stepmom, they were great. The biggest problems really were between them. They let us work most things out on our own, and while Pam is overprotective (and we were naive), we got incredible freedom that we rarely abused. Some of my fondest memories are with my sister and stepbrothers at the house in Columbia Heights. I suppose then they messed up in being too permissive, but honestly, with three highly rebellious boys, I don't see that it could have been done differently. They're all living with their choices, and not doing worse than any other average Joe. I can only think of one or two real times that my dad felt like punishing me, and it was a joke punishment, and he was just trying to show that he was the one in charge. Unlike my mom and stepdad, he was a Threatener, so I have no negative memories of him physically hurting me. I was spanked all the time by the other two. Mostly we just argued about politics :D

In sum, I turned out pretty well, I'd say. I'm not a drug addict, I rarely drink, I'm graduating college (and it only took me so long because I wasn't afraid to change majors, and because I made a few poor choices when depressed), have a Real Job, haven't lived at home in years, and am in a healthy, wonderful relationship. The effects of the way I was raised... I think I'm a little neurotic in some ways and I get stressed easily, but I also developed a wonderful sense of pride in things that I do without taking myself too seriously. I also recently developed an optimism to counteract the pessimism I had to be around. In order to balance the judgmental nature of my parents (though they always TAUGHT me not to judge. Do as I say not as I do!) I am much less judgmental than they are. Maybe they worsened with age, maybe I just never noticed. I realized my parents aren't all-knowing. I have an extremely high level of disclosure because I don't like to lie and they asked a lot of questions growing up. I'm intelligent, have a good sense of humor, and understand responsibility. No parents are perfect, you just have to try to screw up your kid less than the next guy.