Iâ€™m having a day of transference; angry at all those people that have said, with their words or their actions that I wasnâ€™t good enough, that I didnâ€™t deserve their protection, their respect, their concern. But as angry and sad as I am with all those people that rejected me, sent me away, used me up, I know it is (mostly) transference that brings them all to mind. Thatâ€™s not to say those people didnâ€™t hurt me, didnâ€™t cause damage with their actions. But the reason I hold onto those hurts all really boils down to my Dad.
Friends who decide their new relationship is more important than our friendship, people who accepted me as long as I provided them with the services they required, professionals whose behaviour left me lost, defenceless and traumatised. Thereâ€™s a long list of people that I hold a grudge against, that I can hold up as examples of how Iâ€™m just not worth the same as a â€˜regularâ€™ person, that Iâ€™m less, that Iâ€™m disposable, that Iâ€™m there only to offer service. And again, these are real things, real memories, the hurt happened. But in doing so each event maintained a reinforced a very early message.
Your motherâ€™s in her room, go see if she needs anything
Maybe if it was just the denial, just the looking the other way, it wouldnâ€™t hurt as much. So many people have that non-abusive parent. Yes, for most it is their mother, just in this case itâ€™s my Dad. Maybe I could understand it when he kept silent, when he sided with my motherâ€™s attempts to make me better, when he ignored the bruises and pains. Maybe it would be easier to make excuses for all that, the same way so many do for mothers. They are still excuses, they donâ€™t validate the behaviour, but there is some making sense of it. But who am I kidding, it really doesnâ€™t help.
But those times, when my motherâ€™s rage dug in, when nothing would budge it. She wasnâ€™t going to expel it herself, then things that usually made her explode just built the pressure. At those times when we all knew it was bad, my dad would send me off, would go make me deal with it. He made an active choice, and it wasnâ€™t to choose me. Whatever price I had to pay was worth it to him as long as it helped his wife, as long as it calmed her and brought back the normality, the truce. I donâ€™t know I was going to call it calmness, but it wasnâ€™t really, it was those periods between explosions, when she wasnâ€™t about to explode, when Dad could just live without the worry.
So as I was doing my 20 minutes of exercise my mind kept flashing to events in the past 20 years. Friends, teachers, nurses, doctors, collegues, therapists, lovers, points when I wasnâ€™t worth it, when I was blamed for others behaviour, when I was abandoned. I caught in the midst of this at the moment, traumatic memories, tormenting myself, and fighting as best I can the belief that it was all deserved.