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Family of Origin
Being who we are, even if FOO is different and doesn't like it
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 671845" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>My sister is this way. It is the strangest thing, to realize it. Her reality seems a thing half composed of lies. Threat, too. It is difficult to know who manipulates who, in the relationships happening in my family of origin. Remember my posting about the phone call before last from my sister in which, after not taking her calls for so many months (And mine not being taken by her for many months before that.), she leaped into a discussion about the man who wanted to marry my mother with the words: "We've been duped."</p><p></p><p><em>We</em> had not been duped. I believed, and had repeatedly said so, loud and clear, that my mother had a chance at a different kind of life with that man who wanted to marry and take her away. It is interesting to note that, though I could not see it then, the man was villainized using, almost verbatim, the same words and accusations used by my mother and my sister to villainize my</p><p>D H.</p><p></p><p>How strange it seems to know it now, but my sister seems to have had some fantasy life going on in all those months. She had come to believe, without doubt, that I believed as she did, <em>a belief system made up of whole cloth, </em> that the man who wanted to marry my mother was dangerous, manipulative, abusive. I have posted before about my sister's having told my mother that she needed a mother, and that this was my mother's time to provide that for her.</p><p></p><p>Isn't that something.</p><p></p><p>That is what I mean, when I post we all are so damaged, so hurt and alone.</p><p></p><p>I get it that I am always all mad about my being shunned and so on. But...would I be myself at all, if I were the one taking care of my mother? The answer to that one is a resounding no.</p><p></p><p>But then, I would not have been taking care of my mother. She would have lived that life of travel and huge, extended family and good food. Pierogies were a Polish food he was always going to make for us, but never did.</p><p></p><p>He loved my apple pie, too.</p><p></p><p>I wish with all my heart my mother had married the Greek Orthodox priest, and that he had taken her away.</p><p></p><p>Sister won, on that one...or, did all of us lose.</p><p></p><p>Or, were all of us saved.</p><p></p><p>I don't know. My mother is well taken care of, and is not alone or lonely. It hurts me less and less, to know I am shunned.</p><p></p><p>So, that's good, then.</p><p></p><p>Perhaps the shunning only worked when I was so committed to that family dinner I was always posting about.</p><p></p><p>Michael Corleone: </p><p></p><p>1) My circle is small.</p><p>2) Something about loyalty, here.</p><p>3) Never f*** me over.</p><p></p><p>Which has turned into: Believe as you like.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I thought my sister was funny and likable, too.</p><p></p><p>D H says that is not so, and that it was never so.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>My father called me Cinderella.</p><p></p><p>I will look for the article Copa. Just lately though, I think of my sister and even, of my mom, less and less. That riveting fascination and the hurt and shame of all of it is...it's like I know there will be something for me to learn in that pain, so I see it differently, now. It was never something awful they did to me that created those shamed places. Creating those shamed, silent places I see now as signposts to healing.</p><p></p><p>I did that.</p><p></p><p>Not them.</p><p></p><p>Yay, me.</p><p></p><p>When I do think of them, things happen like what is happening on the Attitude thread. Trauma and healing and free from some veil or chain or thin coating of colored ice. The color of the ice is yellow. Those from the North, as I am, will understand this to mean something, or someone, has urinated, there.</p><p></p><p>There is a whole kind of humor, up North, surrounding the issue of yellow snow. In the North, all children eat snow and icicles and wonder at the lacey intricacy of frost on the windowpane.</p><p></p><p>So, that is an interesting piece about this material having to do with my family of origin.</p><p></p><p>That the ice is yellow.</p><p></p><p>This connects, too. I have a lady friend who raises pedigreed Icelandic sheep. To protect them, she saves her urine and marks her territory around where the sheep are penned.</p><p></p><p>The urine of the alpha female.</p><p></p><p>And her sheep have never yet been attacked, though bears prowl there, and wolves.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I wonder Copa, whether it is less that the sister cannot forgive than it is that your courage and assertion and presence shamed the sister into a chance of awakening to who she is <em>and she has refused it</em>. There is such vehemence, such insistence to hurt in the things you have posted about your sister's actions, <em>and about the way she seems to require witnesses she has already poisoned against you to agree with her.</em></p><p></p><p>At one point, you posted something to the effect that after a time, the new husband seemed to have seen through his new wife's machinations regarding your efforts, and called an end to that particular action the sister was insisting on.</p><p></p><p>There is a more vehement energy here than what everything appears to be on the surface. It is impossible to believe it could be so. That is how it feels, for me, too. ("Surely, this cannot be correct. What kind of person thinks like this." How many times have I posted exactly those words as I have come through this? And how many times did the nastiness I thought I was clearing turn into some burgeoning something impossible to miss. And so, in my denial, in my insistence that we could do that family dinner, I hid the burgeoning something away beneath some innocuous little thing like an eye roll. But beneath it was everything I needed, to see clearly, and to heal.)</p><p></p><p>It feels so bad to know our people do not love us. It feels like we are not lovable; that we are defective, and not damaged, at all. But just the opposite is true: We are damaged, not defective. We were perfect, in the beginning. We will come through this whole and healthy again because that is the way things are meant to be. Remember the layers I was posting about somewhere recently? The scab at the top of the thing: Self contempt. The infection, the name of the infected thing that created the need of the scab lest it spread, system wide: Shame</p><p></p><p>And the wound: Abandonment</p><p></p><p>But we have Eckhart, now: <em>Nothing can stand before the fact of your Presence.</em></p><p></p><p>And we have Brene: Just sit with the feelings.</p><p></p><p>That is how we are healing.</p><p></p><p>Especially now that Serenity is back with us, bringing up just the right questions for clarification.</p><p></p><p>Here we all are.</p><p></p><p>Isn't that something.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p>But it is better to know.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 671845, member: 17461"] My sister is this way. It is the strangest thing, to realize it. Her reality seems a thing half composed of lies. Threat, too. It is difficult to know who manipulates who, in the relationships happening in my family of origin. Remember my posting about the phone call before last from my sister in which, after not taking her calls for so many months (And mine not being taken by her for many months before that.), she leaped into a discussion about the man who wanted to marry my mother with the words: "We've been duped." [I]We[/I] had not been duped. I believed, and had repeatedly said so, loud and clear, that my mother had a chance at a different kind of life with that man who wanted to marry and take her away. It is interesting to note that, though I could not see it then, the man was villainized using, almost verbatim, the same words and accusations used by my mother and my sister to villainize my D H. How strange it seems to know it now, but my sister seems to have had some fantasy life going on in all those months. She had come to believe, without doubt, that I believed as she did, [I]a belief system made up of whole cloth, [/I] that the man who wanted to marry my mother was dangerous, manipulative, abusive. I have posted before about my sister's having told my mother that she needed a mother, and that this was my mother's time to provide that for her. Isn't that something. That is what I mean, when I post we all are so damaged, so hurt and alone. I get it that I am always all mad about my being shunned and so on. But...would I be myself at all, if I were the one taking care of my mother? The answer to that one is a resounding no. But then, I would not have been taking care of my mother. She would have lived that life of travel and huge, extended family and good food. Pierogies were a Polish food he was always going to make for us, but never did. He loved my apple pie, too. I wish with all my heart my mother had married the Greek Orthodox priest, and that he had taken her away. Sister won, on that one...or, did all of us lose. Or, were all of us saved. I don't know. My mother is well taken care of, and is not alone or lonely. It hurts me less and less, to know I am shunned. So, that's good, then. Perhaps the shunning only worked when I was so committed to that family dinner I was always posting about. Michael Corleone: 1) My circle is small. 2) Something about loyalty, here. 3) Never f*** me over. Which has turned into: Believe as you like. I thought my sister was funny and likable, too. D H says that is not so, and that it was never so. My father called me Cinderella. I will look for the article Copa. Just lately though, I think of my sister and even, of my mom, less and less. That riveting fascination and the hurt and shame of all of it is...it's like I know there will be something for me to learn in that pain, so I see it differently, now. It was never something awful they did to me that created those shamed places. Creating those shamed, silent places I see now as signposts to healing. I did that. Not them. Yay, me. When I do think of them, things happen like what is happening on the Attitude thread. Trauma and healing and free from some veil or chain or thin coating of colored ice. The color of the ice is yellow. Those from the North, as I am, will understand this to mean something, or someone, has urinated, there. There is a whole kind of humor, up North, surrounding the issue of yellow snow. In the North, all children eat snow and icicles and wonder at the lacey intricacy of frost on the windowpane. So, that is an interesting piece about this material having to do with my family of origin. That the ice is yellow. This connects, too. I have a lady friend who raises pedigreed Icelandic sheep. To protect them, she saves her urine and marks her territory around where the sheep are penned. The urine of the alpha female. And her sheep have never yet been attacked, though bears prowl there, and wolves. I wonder Copa, whether it is less that the sister cannot forgive than it is that your courage and assertion and presence shamed the sister into a chance of awakening to who she is [I]and she has refused it[/I]. There is such vehemence, such insistence to hurt in the things you have posted about your sister's actions, [I]and about the way she seems to require witnesses she has already poisoned against you to agree with her.[/I] At one point, you posted something to the effect that after a time, the new husband seemed to have seen through his new wife's machinations regarding your efforts, and called an end to that particular action the sister was insisting on. There is a more vehement energy here than what everything appears to be on the surface. It is impossible to believe it could be so. That is how it feels, for me, too. ("Surely, this cannot be correct. What kind of person thinks like this." How many times have I posted exactly those words as I have come through this? And how many times did the nastiness I thought I was clearing turn into some burgeoning something impossible to miss. And so, in my denial, in my insistence that we could do that family dinner, I hid the burgeoning something away beneath some innocuous little thing like an eye roll. But beneath it was everything I needed, to see clearly, and to heal.) It feels so bad to know our people do not love us. It feels like we are not lovable; that we are defective, and not damaged, at all. But just the opposite is true: We are damaged, not defective. We were perfect, in the beginning. We will come through this whole and healthy again because that is the way things are meant to be. Remember the layers I was posting about somewhere recently? The scab at the top of the thing: Self contempt. The infection, the name of the infected thing that created the need of the scab lest it spread, system wide: Shame And the wound: Abandonment But we have Eckhart, now: [I]Nothing can stand before the fact of your Presence.[/I] And we have Brene: Just sit with the feelings. That is how we are healing. Especially now that Serenity is back with us, bringing up just the right questions for clarification. Here we all are. Isn't that something. Cedar But it is better to know. [/QUOTE]
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