Personalizing

One of the books I read a while back, that really hit home with me and I felt the need to recently re-visit was “My Parents’ Keeper: Adult Children of the Emotionally Disturbed (Paperback)”.  I bought it shortly before I started this blog back in 2006…   and before that point, I never heard of an ACMIP (Adult Child of a Mentally Ill Parent). 

Up until that point, I hadn’t really taken the time to look into the history of mental illness on my mother’s side of the family…  or thought too much about what her problems might be… and/or how this all may have impacted me.  When I finally started researching a bit on the taboo subject (because it was never something really admitted or discussed openly around my house), and started really trying to learn more… really tried to understand things - so much made sense. 

The following excerpt from this book was one of those things that hit home for me:

Personalizing

One error that people frequently make when communicating needs and feelings has to do with personalizing the problem.  Personalizing means assuming that other people’s behavior is always determined by their feelings toward you.  For example, you may assume they act the way they do, because they don’t care about you or dislike you.

As an ACMIP, you felt responsible for everything that went right or wrong at home.  The mood swings of an unstable parent always seemed related to something you did, or failed to do.  Little wonder that, as an adult, you assume the feelings and reactions of others all have to do with you.

As a child, experiencing yourself as the center of the universe, it may have been difficult for you to understand that the inadequate parenting you received was not aimed at you, and was not an attempt to hurt or punish you.  Only when you got somewhat older could you see that your disturbed parent behavior had little to do with you or what you deserved.”

I read that, and was like – “wow! that’s me!”.  When I read the middle paragraph in quotations above explaining WHY a child with a Mentally Ill parent would feel this way even more so than average - it made so much sense.  

I have ALWAYS, for as long as I can remember, have taken full responsibility (or blame) for not only my own actions, but often everyone around me too.  I do it so much that for years I have joked about it – telling my friends, “just tell (whomever) that it was all my fault”… and even though I said it half jokingly – the truth is, I always DID feel like whatever happened was usually “my fault”.   Like I had some invisible power over my friends or situations and I should have been able to do something to change them/things/whatever. 

My closest friends have commented for years that I’m too hard on myself… or that I often over analyze and feel guilty over too many things. I’ve written about feeling “guilty” in this blog several times.  I realized a huge part of that guilt comes from this “personalizing”. 

When I was a child, I absolutely felt responsible for my mother’s mood swings and so much more.  I did try to do whatever I could to make her happy, to not set her off on a tangent, to keep the peace between her and my dad, etc.  I was always on the “look out” – anticipating her moods and needs.  Not to mention literally feeling like it was my responsibility to ”save” my own father’s soul.  Hello???  Talk about pressure!! No wonder I “personalize”. 

When I learned this – it was helpful to know.  It didn’t really help me stop doing it all together… but, it helped. 

The same book goes on say about ”personalizing”:

People have hurts, priorities, yearnings and losses that you certainly have not caused.  You are NOT the center of their universe, only your own. 

When you’re feeling responsible for, or hurt by someone’s behavior, you can do two things:

1) Assume that you are probably personalizing.
2) Make a list of at least five explanations for their behavior that have nothing to do with you.

Easier said than done, I’ve found… but, worth a shot to keep trying. 

It has helped, in hindsight… to realize that things my mother did or said that really hurt my feelings or whatever, really had nothing to do with me…  but, rather were a result of HER illness… her problems.  Not only this, (because I think I figured that out a while back) – but, realizing that it was MY own interpretations of things -  my personalizing things –  that made the hurt and resentment even worse.  Not that I didn’t have good reason for feeling like that as a child… but, as an adult, I can now understand more and really let go of negative thinking and deep rooted resentment and hurt in the process.  

~smj

To me… when I was 13…

Whelp… I’ve been tagged… by Rebecca from her “Fictional Reality” blog.   The idea is to write a letter to yourself when you were 13.  This was her post – “Tag! You’re it!“, and is a good read that leaves one wondering… “what exactly happened at her cousin’s wedding anyway??”.  =)… 

It is funny that not too long ago, I wound up writing a post called “If I could go back in time… “.  In that post, I wound up writing about what I would tell myself if I could go back 6 years ago… when I was pregnant with my 2nd son, had a 5 year old son, and was taking care of my dieing father. 

I didn’t plan to write it… it just rolled off…  and the really weird thing is that only a couple days later, I wound up face to face with a pregnant woman – pregnant with her 2nd son, and she has a 4 year old son, and she had just lost her mother.  I wound up in a deep conversation with her, even though we hardly knew each other… and, saying many of the same things to her that I had just written about. 

Anyway – now, I’m faced with writing to my 13 year old self… and I can’t help but wonder if there is some poor 13 year old out there, that is  going thru a similar time that I had, and will suddenly appear after this post and engage me in deep conversation…   ???  Wouldn’t that be something???

Before I begin my letter, I’d like to say that I remember being 13 very well…  and I have my old diary to remind me of just where my mindset was those days.  At that time, I was going thru some major rebellion and learning curves of my own.  I sort of doubt that I would listen to any adult back then too much…  probably not even myself since I’m now “old”.  LOL  But, also true to my nature then and now, I will tell myself what I think should be said, whether the 13 year old me wants to hear it or not!   So, here goes….

Dear Samantha Jane… 
(yes, I know that is not your real name…  and I do not know WHY your mother always called you that…. and it’s even MORE of a mystery as to why 29 years later you would chose it for your blog name?? What’s a “blog”, you ask?  Ohh… never mind!)

I know you don’t think anyone can possibly understand where you are coming from, or how you feel…  but, you should know that if anyone can, I can.  And, all in all, I don’t think you need too many pointers. You actually did a pretty darn good job of surviving your teen years, and you obviously make it thru alive.  Better yet, you make it through with a rather positive outlook on life and a smile on your face. You have a better head on your shoulders than you realize… and all in all, you have a pretty good life.  But, now that I’m 41, I can think of a few things that might have been nice to know when I was your age (13).   So, maybe, jusssssssssssst maybe – you can take some of these pointers into consideration, ok? 

1)  You are not alone.  You might feel like you are…  but, someday, they are going to have this thing called “the Internet”, and you are going to be able to read about all kinds of people whom you can actually relate to and went thru similar situations.  That alone, is sort of comforting to me now… so, I thought if might make you feel better. 

2)  Your parents both love you very much.  Yes, they have their issues with each other and in general.. but, never doubt that they both love YOU.  Not the “you” that you think you need to pretend to be – but the REAL you.  They do.  You may have them fooled on some things… but, if/when they find out the truth (and ummm… they will eventually), guess what?  They still love you.  Believe it.

3) Your brother’s love you too.  Even your oldest brother whom you swear hates you and loves to see you get in trouble.  Yeah, he might be a little jealous of you sometimes, but he truly cares about you so much that he worries about you more than you know.  He would do anything for you… and there winds up being a few times that he actually really helps you out.  Don’t be afraid to talk to him, and know that both of your brother’s always have your back. 

On the other hand, realize that just because your brothers would never hit a girl… there are other guys out there that will.  You might want to think twice before you dump your drink down that jerk’s pants when your 19… even though, he totally deserved it.  But, if you DO decide to do it… then, after you pick yourself up off the floor (after the 2nd time you go down), and the whole bar is holding him back??  – Use a fist when you swing over the little bar-tenders head and hit him (instead of an open hand slap to the head).  Then still take him to court, press charges, and sick your brother’s on him! The nazi-rat-bastard!   

4)  OK – this is a hard one.  About your Mom….  While, yes, she loves you… you should know that she has some bigger issues than just being a religious fanatic.  She has some real mental health issues.  Don’t laugh.  It’s not funny.  I know you joke about it, but don’t really believe this right now.  It’s scary… but, it’s true.  No, she’s not like her mother… but, it is more than just her religious outlooks, or her relationship with Dad.  She’s looses touch with reality sometimes.  I think you’re better off knowing this.  I think everything will be less confusing and scary if you learn a little about it. 

You don’t need to confront her on it… it won’t do any good… and don’t expect Dad to want to talk about it either – because he’s also afraid to believe this.  He’s afraid of what people will think about your whole family if they know.  His silence on these issues is both his being in denial, and because he’s trying to protect you.  But, don’t YOU be afraid anymore.  You are NOT like your mother… and you don’t have these same issues that she has.  Her problems are completely unrelated to you.  However, her problems DO affect you.  Try to learn a little about schizophrenia or mental illness in general… and, know that when she does things, it’s NOT YOUR FAULT.  It’s also not her fault….  but, mostly realize there’s nothing you can do to make her better. 

5)  Matter of fact, you should know that a lot of things are NOT your fault.  You have a tendency to put way too much pressure on yourself.  It’s good to take responsibility for yourself… and your own actions.  But, you need to understand that there are many things that you just have to deal with…  but can not control. Try not to feel so guilty all the time.

6)  Your Dad is not going to Hell.  And either is your brother, or you, or anyone else that you love and worry about.  It is not up to you to save them.  And yes, it is wrong for your mother and other church people to put that kind of expectations and pressure on you.  Don’t let them anymore. Stop worrying – and go with your gut.  When you have questions, ask them.  It’s okay to wonder, doubt, ask, and learn.  The more you learn, the better you’ll feel – and the sooner you’ll feel better.

7)  The world is not black and white.  Everything isn’t either good or bad.  There is plenty of gray area.  Don’t be so quick to think you know the answers.. or that someone else does.  You know? You are very good at putting yourself in someone else’s shoes.  You are easily able to sympathize and empathize with folks.  You seem to naturally want to help people (and animals).  Keep doing that.  The more you do that.. the more gray you see… and that’s a good thing. 

8 ) Also, don’t think you have to have this charade of a split personality.  Both “sides” are ALL YOU – and, the “whole you” is actually pretty special.  Those that really care about you, will appreciate your being honest with them and the “whole” you, way more than only getting the parts of you that you THINK they want to see.

9) And, don’t worry about what other people think about you too much…   Ironically, the more you are yourself… the more confident you are… and the less you try to please everyone else… the more people like you… and the better you’ll feel. 

10)  You’re Dad always tells you that “boys always want what they can’t have, and then once they get it, they don’t want it anymore”.  He’s right.  99% of the time this seems to be the case.. especially for teenage boys.  But, this goes both ways… and if there’s ever a boy that you reeeeeeeeelly think you like soooooo much… and you’re feeling sooo hurt over, think about how this might be applying to you. 

11)  Speaking of boys…  You are right to not have any big desire to get a serious boyfriend any time soon.  Keep learning from your friends mistakes… and being there for them (your friends) when they need you.  Even years later, don’t ever feel pressured into doing something just because you THINK everyone else is doing it… or that you SHOULD want to. If you don’t want to do something, and/or think you’ll regret it.. then, don’t.  

Here’s 2 more things about boys…  1) While it might not seem believable right now… some day, you’ll have more chasing after you than you ever imagined.  Don’t be so afraid of this when it happens.  Have fun.  You don’t have to be serious with any of them if you don’t want to.  Give a few more of them a chance then you do.  because..   2) Someday, when you least expect it, and aren’t looking for it… you WILL meet someone who really loves you and wants to be with you forever.  (and, wait til you see your kids… but, we’ll let that be a surprise.  =)

12)  Your friends mean the world to you right now.. and that doesn’t change.  Don’t ever lose sight of how much you need your friends…  but, do question if someone really IS a friend.  Friendship is a two way street.  You don’t have to follow along with any “friends” that aren’t really looking out for your best interest.  Don’t be so quick to follow…  you can be a great leader when you want to. 

13)  Why don’t you try out for a few more activities?  I know you don’t want to do cheerleading (like your father wants), but, you might like to be on a girls sports team… or maybe even in the Drama club? You know you love to sing.  Don’t NOT do things just to spite anyone… and don’t be so nervous… you can do it! 

14) Think twice about giving up on your piano lessons.  I know it’s hard to learn from mom… but, she really is an excellent pianist… and you COULD play like that someday if you stick with it.  If you don’t… you’ll always regret it. 

15) About Gram and Pa – Visit them, and talk to them, and listen to their stories about your Dad (even though you’ve heard them a million times) every chance you get.  Take in every wrinkle and twinkle in their eyes… 

16) Have fun at concerts..  but, do yourself a favor and don’t chug Jack Daniel’s from a wine sac… 

17) You, are NOT fat.  Some day, you are going to look back at how you look now… and think, “wow!  I was actually pretty good lookin!”.  I know that isn’t going to resonate with you… so maybe at least this advice will.  Please try to understand that there is NOT miracle pill…  or miracle diet…  Save yourself years of yo-yo dieting.  The only way you will ever be thin and healthy is if you eat right… and exercise.  Surprise Surprise. 

18) When you write in your diary…???  Try to write a little bit more about Mom and Dad and Gram and Pa and family events and stuff…  I know it’s easier to write pages and pages about boys and parties and girlfriends… but, trust me on this…

19) Speaking of your Diary…. do you REALLY think Mom isn’t going to read it??  You might want to hide it a little better.. or, leave out a few parts… then again, never mind.  That all plays out for a reason…

and last but not least:

20)  and this is very important…  it could save you YEARS of frustration.  So listen up.  

You, my dear, have naturally wavy hair that has a mind of it’s own.  All the blow-drying, curling irons, and hot rollers in the world will NEVER tame it or enable you to have that feathered back “Farah Faucet hair” that all your friends seem to have.  What you need to do is just brush it once when it’s wet, then put gel in it, scrunch it, and then do NOTHING.  Maybe pick it out a little when it dries and spray it.  That’s it.  Women will tell you for many many years that they would kill for your hair.  It’s one of your only re-deeming features in later years. Try to quit hating it so much and work with it.  =)

Ok – that’s it…  Sorry it was so long and I babbled on and on.  SOME things NEVER change….

~smj

 Now…. if anyone’s interested…  here’s a link to Brad Paisley’s song along these lines – called, “If I could write a letter to me”.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fqtbMHfpXY

 -  oh – and if anyone is still reading this…. consider you yourself tagged!  =)

I saw the light!

I was the youngest child in our baptist church to be baptized.  The baptists don’t baptize you when you are  a baby like the catholics.  They believe you have to be old enough to understand what you are doing and to want to do it. 

I think it was the summer of 1971.  I was a devout born again.  I loved church and all that it stood for.  I wanted to do everything right.  I was five. 

I remember being home one morning with my mother.  My dad was at work.  My brothers at school.  She was playing the piano and singing away.  I was bored, as usual.  I saw the light in the hallway was still on… and I sat and stared at it… mesmerized… just looking and feeling the burn.  I had never done that before.  And, when I looked away… suddenly I couldn’t see so good.  There was a big spot everywhere I looked.  What had I done???  

Worried, I interrupted my mother’s piano playing.  You had to be insistent to get my mom’s attention…  and I was…  getting a little more frantic each time she didn’t respond and noticing the “spot” was following me everywhere.  

Worried, I asked her, “Mommy?!  What is that light?  That spot following me??”.  Finally, I had her attention.  She curiously examined the room and inspected where I was looking.  She asked me if I still saw it.  I said yes… I was scared. 

She however, suddenly acted like she was filled with glee!  She was so happy, I suddenly was too!  She excitely told me I was seeing the holy spirit!” 

I was confused.  She explained it was sort of like a gohst… but, that it was a GOOD gohst…  it was an ANGEL…  It was a MIRACLE!!  She began praising the lord and praying and hugging me…

She asked me over and over, excited and happy, ”can you still see it?? where was it now??” 

I replied ethusiastically, “yes… it’s there!  no… wait… there!… now there!!  it’s followinig me!” 

 Gradually, the spot faded away and my vision was back.  I was relieved.  She seemed let down. 

 But not for long.  She promptly called the pastor and all her church friends and told them her little girl had just seen the holy spirit..  an angel!  I must be special.  And, that while she was worshiping the lord in song and music… I had been visited by God himself… holy-gohst style!

She was so darn proud. Hell, I was too.  I didn’t know what I did… but, if she thought it was great and said I was special… well, then… It must be!  

She had me meet with the pastor that week, and the following Sunday I was baptized before the church.  He said I was the youngest child he ever baptized.  He asked me, are you sure you know what you are doing?  What it means to be born again and baptized?? I thought, are you kidding?  Of course I knew!  I was five whole years old and a miracle child.  LOL

That Sunday, I remember feeling very confused as I stood in line with all these grown ups waiting to be baptized.  What the heck was going on?  I didn’t even know how to swim yet?  Where was my life jacket??  I was scared… they all assured me it was fine.  When I actually got baptized, I remember him picking me up, in my long wet white shirt, so the congregation could see me.  They all applauded and I thought, wow… am I special or what??  It’s good to be born-again! 

About a week later, I must’ve been bored again and I stared into a light bulb again.  Hey!?!?  Whadda ya know??  The spot was back!!!  This time, my brother was there… he obviously knew about this trick and he stared with me and we both watched the spots come and go. 

I remember silently figuring it out in my head.  I had NOT seen the holy spirit… It was NOT a miracle… It was what happens when you stare in a light-bulb.  Who knew????  Well… now I knew. 

I thought about telling my mother about… but, I didn’t want to disappoint her.  She was so happy.  Besides, had I done something wrong?  Would I get in trouble for lieing?  Even thoght I didn’t know what it was?  And, what about being baptized???  I had already done it.  Would it be in trouble?  Would my mom get in trouble?  

 I decided a couple things that day…

 1) I couldn’t believe my mom about everything… and she didn’t know everything.

2) It was easier to keep my mouth shut and play along than to upset the apple cart. 

I was half right, at least…

 ~smj

reason vs. evil

When I was a kid… my mom thought everything was “evil” or “disgusting”. Rock music. All my friends. My Dad. T.V. Anything. I didn’t believe her- but, I knew what she thought. 

She read my diary once when I was 17 and totally freaked out (even though I personally don’t think I had done anything THAT bad). She started praying over me in the middle of the night, anointing me with oil and speaking in tongues, and accusing me of ridiculous things that I had never done or that weren’t even possible to do that I knew of.

I never told my Dad at the time – but years later I did. He was mad when he found out and asked me why I didn’t tell him back then? He said he would’ve made her stop.And, he usually did “make her stop”. If she said we couldn’t go trick or treating – he said we could. If she said we couldn’t watch any TV (even the show “Happy Days” to her was “disgusting”) – he said we could. If she wanted us to go to church 5 times a week – he said we didn’t have to if we didn’t want to.

They fought a LOT. Screaming – and sometimes she would hit him. Of course, I didn’t like it. But, I felt sorry for her – she was always so sad… crying… it was so dramatic. I felt like I needed to take her side, even though, I didn’t believe my her and was glad my dad didn’t make us do all the things she wanted.

Well, when I was really young – I did believe her. I was in it.  I was scared and belieiving all the “evil” lurking around me.  But, it wasn’t too long before I started questioning things  -  like religious beliefs as well my mom’s personal beliefs/stories.  However, I went to churches that I didn’t like for years – just to make her happy.  I was afraid if I stopped going she would totally “lose it”.   She “lost it” a lot.

This went on for years and years… I stopped going to church finally at age 17, right after she read my diary and freaked out. She called me a hypocrite, and I told her she was right… and admitted I was only going for her and I stopped going. She freaked… but, she survived. It was a relief to me.

I guess I eventually hit a point where reason overpowered all the fear and “evil”. 

~smj

Could Mom be wrong?

I grew up very religious – baptist for starters… then more of a full-gospel/pentecostal… and then my current religion of choice – nothing.

When I was just a kid… I went to church 3-5 times a week with my mom and my brother. My other brother, and my dad stayed home.

You see, my father made no bones about the fact that he was an atheist. He then went on to tell us kids that it was our choice… we could go to church with our mother if we wanted to… or we could stay home with him and do chores.

My oldest brother went to church for a while.  Then, he was the first one to take my dad up on this option. He opted to stay home. My mom was not happy, to say the least. But, my dad was a man of his word, and would not make my brother go if he didn’t want to. This led to the major divide in our family.  My parents had always fought like crazy… but, this divided us 3 kids too.  From them on out, it was my Dad and my oldest brother, against my mom, my other brother, and myself.

I watched my mother tell anyone that would listen all about how awful my father was. And, how he was going to hell… and now he was trying to drag her son with him. We prayed for them. A lot. My mother would cry and cry… and we would all pray… the three of us, and anyone else my mother could drag into it.

Then, I would go home.. and my dad would say – “you don’t have to go to church if you don’t want to”. What? And wind up like HIM, I thought? Going to hell in a hand basket? No thank you. Besides, if my mom tweaked out that much over my one brother not going, what in the world would happen to her if I didn’t go too? Did I want my mom telling everyone that would listen about how I was going to hell and praying for me? And, besides.. I believed her.

I believed it all. I was scared to death for my dad and my brother. I belived they were going to hell. I prayed my heart out along with them. I cried and cried too.

Yes, I was a good little christian girl. When I was about 5 or 6 I tried to “save” every kid on my block. Needless to say, I wasn’t very popular that summer. LOL But, I did whatever my Mom told me to do… and I did it because I thought she knew what she was talking about. Along with the pastor and all the other good people at church.

I played the organ and sang in church regularly. I was shy and scared to death… my knees would shake and I felt like I was going to throw up each time… but, I was convinced this was something I should do. You see, this was the only time my dad would go to church. To see me preform. Each time, my mother would gather the pastor and church leaders to pray before each “special” I preformed. We would pray that when my dad came to see me that THIS would be the time that God would speak to him… sort of bonk him on the head with christian fairy juice or something and he would suddenly become the perfect christian father that he should be.

It took me years to stop believing that would happen. And, as I became a pre-teen, my dad had it all figured out too. He stopped coming when I sang. My mom and pastor would tell me to ask him to come… put the pressure on him… make him feel guilty. So, I did. Only, I really felt bad that he wouldn’t come. I wasn’t pretending to want him there. My mom told me to tell him that if he loved me he’d come… and, so, when he wouldn’t come… I actually wondered if he really did love me or not.

It took me a while before I realized that of course he loved me… he was just sick of the plotting and scheming… and, after a few more failed attempts to make him come and see me… I realized I was tired of it all too. I was relieved… I didn’t really want to sign in front of the whole church. So, I stopped “preforming” like a trained seal. I still remember how guilty my mom made me feel for “giving up”. Mot only my mom, but also the pastor and other adults. Looking back, it makes me very angry. Angry with my mom, but also with the church leaders for putting that kind of pressure on me. A little naive girl. How dare they????

Singing wasn’t the only time or way I was “used” by my mom. My mom knew how close I was with my dad. How close all of us kids were with him. She was jealous. He was the one we turned to… and I was without a doubt – “Daddy’s little girl”. He may have been an atheist… and going to hell or not… he was never anything but wonderful to me and my brothers. If anyone taught us positive life lessons – it was him. And, yet, I’d hear my mother trash him every singe day. She acted like he was the devil himself. She and my Dad fought a lot… and, she would use me as a pawn against him.

After my mother’s prompting, I vividly remember apporaching my father… teary eyed and upset… asking him why he didn’t believe in God? why didn’t he believe in the bible? and sobbing that I didn’t want him to go to hell. His answer, I remember explicitly…

He sat me down on his knee.. wiped my tears… told me not to worry and that he wasn’t going to hell… I hopefully listened on. He explained that he didn’t think there was a hell… and he said, “You know your little Thumbelina book that you like so much? You know how it’s a great fairytale and story, but it’s not real? Well, that is how I think of the bible. I think it’s a great book… with lots of great stories… and some good messages… but, I don’t think it’s real”. This answer made me feel better, even though my mother promptly shot it down and told me he was going to hell again soon after. Still.. it planted a seed of a thought… maybe…just maaaaaaaaaaybe Mom was wrong???

TBC…

~ smj