Forums
New posts
Search forums
What's new
New posts
New profile posts
Latest activity
Internet Search
Members
Current visitors
New profile posts
Search profile posts
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
New posts
Search forums
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Forums
General Discussions
Family of Origin
Is there a time we can and should say good-bye to our past?
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="BusynMember" data-source="post: 664303" data-attributes="member: 1550"><p>Copa and Cedar, as I have mentioned, I threw out my picture albums. I did so willfully and not in a fit of rage. I actually did it calmly so that I never again had to see fake young mother smiling at baby she did not love. I couldn't bear to see it. And I didn't want to remember the fake pictures of me on stage at one of my mother's dance studio recitals, dressed cute, but only up there because SHE owned the studio...as I could never dance and would never learn to dance. But there was a little toddler up there, dressed to dance and be the dancing queen she wanted when she wanted a daughter. It was all what SHE wanted me to be. It wasn't me. Even when I saw the other kids dancing, I did not wish it was me. I was halppy just to stay near my grandmother.</p><p></p><p>I did not want to see the hand made clothing and out-of-date hairstyle my mother made me wear to school. I got A LOT of teasing because of just those two things. It did not occur to her that my peers would make fun of me for dressing so different from the rest of them and wearing my hear in an old fashion style. Nor did she care. She kept telling me "You don't want to be like everyone else. Bunch of copycats." Not quite in those words, but she wanted me to be different.</p><p>WELL I WAS DIFFERENT...lolol.</p><p></p><p>Neurologically, academically, and socially...plus I was dressed like something out of an old comic books. Nobody dresed like I did. So I was bullied at school too. Badly. Even beaten up, wh ich was odd those days for a girl. And nobody helped. And my mother still dressed me to be "different." I do believe my sister, and I credit her for this, refused to wear what my mother made and therefore, being seven years younger, my mother had already given up that I, her odlest, would remain "different" and insisted on dressing in style...so she did not subject my sister to this atrocity that caused alienation. But those pictures are long one and I dont' miss them.</p><p></p><p>I did not miss the pictures of me and my siblings, me and my brother holdilng dolls that my mothere ALLOWED us to have. It reminds me that I couldn't have my Thumbalena doll. I couldn't have Barbies. I couldn't have Chatty Cathy. I could ony have dolls that passed her inspection. I don't need to see myself and my brother holding dolls at all.</p><p></p><p>I am glad I tossed the book. A picture is a snapshot in time when everyone smiles and looks happy.</p><p></p><p>"A Smile is Just a Frown Turned Upside Down, My Friend" Song is Smiling Faces and I forget who sang it, but an awesome song. The Staples?</p><p></p><p>My first photos I have are of me as a pretty teenager which friends holding the camera. No fakeness there.</p><p></p><p>Oh, yes. And let's not forget that Uncle Narcissistic is no longer in that picture book either. He had no right to be in that picture book. I never liked him. I still wonder what really went on in that dark room between himself and me. He gives me the creeps. He is dead. I'd rather not see him when he was alive.</p><p></p><p>Pictures can be a curse.</p><p></p><p>Just a random rant brought on by the idea of a photo album.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BusynMember, post: 664303, member: 1550"] Copa and Cedar, as I have mentioned, I threw out my picture albums. I did so willfully and not in a fit of rage. I actually did it calmly so that I never again had to see fake young mother smiling at baby she did not love. I couldn't bear to see it. And I didn't want to remember the fake pictures of me on stage at one of my mother's dance studio recitals, dressed cute, but only up there because SHE owned the studio...as I could never dance and would never learn to dance. But there was a little toddler up there, dressed to dance and be the dancing queen she wanted when she wanted a daughter. It was all what SHE wanted me to be. It wasn't me. Even when I saw the other kids dancing, I did not wish it was me. I was halppy just to stay near my grandmother. I did not want to see the hand made clothing and out-of-date hairstyle my mother made me wear to school. I got A LOT of teasing because of just those two things. It did not occur to her that my peers would make fun of me for dressing so different from the rest of them and wearing my hear in an old fashion style. Nor did she care. She kept telling me "You don't want to be like everyone else. Bunch of copycats." Not quite in those words, but she wanted me to be different. WELL I WAS DIFFERENT...lolol. Neurologically, academically, and socially...plus I was dressed like something out of an old comic books. Nobody dresed like I did. So I was bullied at school too. Badly. Even beaten up, wh ich was odd those days for a girl. And nobody helped. And my mother still dressed me to be "different." I do believe my sister, and I credit her for this, refused to wear what my mother made and therefore, being seven years younger, my mother had already given up that I, her odlest, would remain "different" and insisted on dressing in style...so she did not subject my sister to this atrocity that caused alienation. But those pictures are long one and I dont' miss them. I did not miss the pictures of me and my siblings, me and my brother holdilng dolls that my mothere ALLOWED us to have. It reminds me that I couldn't have my Thumbalena doll. I couldn't have Barbies. I couldn't have Chatty Cathy. I could ony have dolls that passed her inspection. I don't need to see myself and my brother holding dolls at all. I am glad I tossed the book. A picture is a snapshot in time when everyone smiles and looks happy. "A Smile is Just a Frown Turned Upside Down, My Friend" Song is Smiling Faces and I forget who sang it, but an awesome song. The Staples? My first photos I have are of me as a pretty teenager which friends holding the camera. No fakeness there. Oh, yes. And let's not forget that Uncle Narcissistic is no longer in that picture book either. He had no right to be in that picture book. I never liked him. I still wonder what really went on in that dark room between himself and me. He gives me the creeps. He is dead. I'd rather not see him when he was alive. Pictures can be a curse. Just a random rant brought on by the idea of a photo album. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Forums
General Discussions
Family of Origin
Is there a time we can and should say good-bye to our past?
Top