That last post sucked.
I thought what I wanted to do was to try to satisfy potential curiosity in you. If you weren’t curious, you wouldn’t be reading this.
But, it looks like I’m more likely to say what I want for whatever other reasons.
Perhaps what people have told you about me is good enough. Is there anything I can say that actually helps you? Understanding anything about the real me is completely unnecessary to your quality of life, I think.
If you have come to believe that I was a horrible person and I am to blame for any trouble you have, then, well, I hope that helps you, somehow.
Blaming is tempting.
In some of the past posts, it might look like I blame your mother for all this mess, but I don’t. I knew she would react like she did, and I didn’t bother to defend myself, and then I broke the protective order three times, and then I didn’t defend myself again. Oh, brother and sister, I am definitely the one to blame.
The frog does not blame the scorpion.
I’m not calling your mother a scorpion, I’m saying that it was the frog’s dumb ass for expecting the scorpion to act any differently.
But, even your mother’s reaction, which I expected, was a result of how I acted for years.
She was completely powerless and trapped with me for years, having no income of her own, completely frustrated with and angry at me. I got crazier and crazier, completely unhappy with and frustrated by her — enduring her Diane-tactics. It wasn’t always ugly, but she wanted to keep me calm, in a sense control me, and I was unpredictable and uncontrollable.
So, when I made that statement on the phone and then she asked if she should be afraid and then I suggested she get a protective order — I had just handed her a bunch of power — a chance to control the situation for once.
Boy, I thought my life sucked living with your mother, but I learned living without you two was really hell. That fall and winter in the house, alone with the cats, in the dark, really sucked.
Picking you up for our sad little weekends together also hurt me.
Eventually, I couldn’t move or think anymore.
Look: You won’t be like me. You were never abused. You were never even yelled at. You did see me yell at your mother several times and you did see me put several holes in the walls. You saw me be moody and sour a number of times, but not at you.
When I was little, my mother used to beat me with a flyswatter when she was frustrated or angry. She would beat my legs while I would try to get away and yell things at me like how terrible I am, how terrible it is to be proud of myself, to wipe that smile off my face, that she hates me.
And when I could get away from her, I would run to my room and lie on my bed and cry and vow that I hate her guts and I wish she was dead.
My father wasn’t home much.
Now I wish I was dead.
I don’t blame my mother, I blame myself because (a) I am terrible, (b) any pride I feel is arrogance, (c) smiling is bad, happiness is bad, (d) I hate me.
I should be able to snap out of it, so I’m a failure.
Again, this is serving me and not you.
I can’t give you any advice. I can only repeat things that have been said to me, that don’t work for me.
I never could really discuss problems with my mother. She wasn’t receptive like you see mothers on television or in movies be. She wasn’t really very empathetic. You could say she didn’t really tolerate weakness.
My father wasn’t around much.
I’m sure I’m exaggerating. Picking on a dead woman.
The point is, you don’t have those problems. You’ll not be like me. No matter what you’ve been told — BRAIN CHEMISTRY DOES NOT PRODUCE DEPRESSION… THOUGHTS AND LEARNING PRODUCE DEPRESSION (which is embodied by brain chemistry).
The reason mental disorders seem to run in families is BECAUSE CHILDREN GROW UP IN FAMILIES AND THAT’S WHERE THEY LEARN TO THINK.
You both have kind hearts and great imaginations!
Good night.
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