i'm not quite there yet. not sure if i ever will be.
i realized this today when talking to sis about the man i dread becoming because he is very much a part of me. what he did still serves as a barrier to any possibility of being able to relate to him as an adult. i still feel like a docile child around him. he did a good job of making sure i was docile, incapable of standing up for myself, my siblings, my mother. he contends he did nothing wrong. still manipulative. twisting truths to suit his vision best. how can i reconcile with such ugliness? pretend to get along with it? i abhor him. i abhor what i am because of how well he shaped me and my anger. the pit of black that rests deep in my soul, my past and present. how can i avoid bringing it into my future? i want nothing more than to embrace and get along with it (or do i? should i?), with him. but he treats me the way he has for 18 years, and then i'm magically an adult that can relate to him as a friend? not a chance. i could never be real with him, he made sure we knew that. my inability to be myself freely (not that i know who that is) will always be a barrier not just to our relationship, but to my relationship with others. i am a master at walking on eggshells just to appease. i hate that it's either this or being him, which is unacceptable. i just want to be me and happy. but who can teach me these things when all i've learned is anything but?
no i am not ready to forgive him. i do not think this would change if he were to be on his deathbed the next day.
does this make me incapable of practicing what i want to preach? of love and acceptance? of great understanding?
how can i let go? how can i forget? his teachings are forever seared into my psyche and soul...
Showing posts with label dichotomies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dichotomies. Show all posts
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Friday, July 22, 2011
A Dichotomous Look at My Journey
What I'm about to write I realize is a problematic way of looking at my life so far along with the potential my life has. At the moment, it makes sense that what has happened up to this point is viewed in this way. Maybe it has to do with my level of comfort with dichotomies that I hope to move beyond at some point. But when I think of all that has happened, my mind goes to this...
The cello is an instrument I adore. I played at one point and hope to pick it up again. For me its sound resembles the human voice, a human range of emotions, even the human soul. When I would play, I was often drawn to songs that emote on a sorrowful level. I identified with this sound and range of emotion as much as the cello did. This was (and still is to a degree) the sound that resided in my soul. Life was rather oppressive. There was little opportunity to openly emote true feelings and in general repercussions for getting 'out of line' (which wasn't well defined and quite arbitrary at that) were severe in my mind when it came to punishment. There was no sense of balance beyond sibling camaraderie and school, to the overbearing sense of discipline that guided our lives. It was hard to imagine there was any escape except in fantasy--which my siblings and I would play out from time to time when home alone. Needless to say, I learned to master carrying around this sense of heavy often negative feelings with no outlet
The ukulele is an instrument I discovered well into adulthood and admired for its light heartedness that came with its sound. It is often described as an instrument of the heart. I identified with this instrument because it aligned with my desire to be a happier person. Its small frame and light body seemed welcoming to anyone willing to learn. Like the quest for inner happiness and peace, it takes practice and dedication (something I have yet to be 100 percent about which might say something about my own dedication to the path of inner peace and happiness). But its always there and sounding chipper when I pick it up.
In a way, I see the sharp difference between these two instruments as a reflection of the choices I've made in my life. Decisions that might have meant self denial of happiness, love, and living. As a child, the first major decision I made to live with my father instead of my mother. At the time it seemed like a practical decision, one that guaranteed I would turn out a good person instead of reckless and possibly pregnant at 16--so my father would have me believe if I choose to go with her. In retrospect, it wouldn't have mattered what decision I made because the only one that would have been respected by my father, whom I was already living with, was to stay where I was. I learned this after my little brother made it known that he really wanted to live with mom repeatedly. A revelation I believe led to his increased abuse at my father's hand.
The second major decision I made was, once again, made out of duty to practicality. It was a decision to neither deny nor confirm that my father was overly abusive to my little brother. The practicality came into play upon the realization that either way, my sister and I would be going back home with our father, who would lay into us for saying the 'wrong' things (basically things that made him look bad). This came to pass but only in intensely verbally abusive ways, which meant I had to intensify my ability to hold things in.
In adulthood, I kept making these kinds of 'practical' choices that often meant a denial of happiness. The latest example coming from a willingness to stay with an oppressive situation in graduate school before being pushed into moving on to better things. All my life it seems that the 'practical' decisions and paths have also been wrought with oppression and despair...
I realize I'm rambling with my stories, only to say that I hope in seeking out a lighter, and happier path that I am not too late in my endeavors. That this path will, like my mother, still be willing to welcome me with open arms and an open heart. I want my heart and soul to take on the lightness of the ukulele, though I still find beauty and value in the humanity that is also a part of the cello.
The cello is an instrument I adore. I played at one point and hope to pick it up again. For me its sound resembles the human voice, a human range of emotions, even the human soul. When I would play, I was often drawn to songs that emote on a sorrowful level. I identified with this sound and range of emotion as much as the cello did. This was (and still is to a degree) the sound that resided in my soul. Life was rather oppressive. There was little opportunity to openly emote true feelings and in general repercussions for getting 'out of line' (which wasn't well defined and quite arbitrary at that) were severe in my mind when it came to punishment. There was no sense of balance beyond sibling camaraderie and school, to the overbearing sense of discipline that guided our lives. It was hard to imagine there was any escape except in fantasy--which my siblings and I would play out from time to time when home alone. Needless to say, I learned to master carrying around this sense of heavy often negative feelings with no outlet
The ukulele is an instrument I discovered well into adulthood and admired for its light heartedness that came with its sound. It is often described as an instrument of the heart. I identified with this instrument because it aligned with my desire to be a happier person. Its small frame and light body seemed welcoming to anyone willing to learn. Like the quest for inner happiness and peace, it takes practice and dedication (something I have yet to be 100 percent about which might say something about my own dedication to the path of inner peace and happiness). But its always there and sounding chipper when I pick it up.
In a way, I see the sharp difference between these two instruments as a reflection of the choices I've made in my life. Decisions that might have meant self denial of happiness, love, and living. As a child, the first major decision I made to live with my father instead of my mother. At the time it seemed like a practical decision, one that guaranteed I would turn out a good person instead of reckless and possibly pregnant at 16--so my father would have me believe if I choose to go with her. In retrospect, it wouldn't have mattered what decision I made because the only one that would have been respected by my father, whom I was already living with, was to stay where I was. I learned this after my little brother made it known that he really wanted to live with mom repeatedly. A revelation I believe led to his increased abuse at my father's hand.
The second major decision I made was, once again, made out of duty to practicality. It was a decision to neither deny nor confirm that my father was overly abusive to my little brother. The practicality came into play upon the realization that either way, my sister and I would be going back home with our father, who would lay into us for saying the 'wrong' things (basically things that made him look bad). This came to pass but only in intensely verbally abusive ways, which meant I had to intensify my ability to hold things in.
In adulthood, I kept making these kinds of 'practical' choices that often meant a denial of happiness. The latest example coming from a willingness to stay with an oppressive situation in graduate school before being pushed into moving on to better things. All my life it seems that the 'practical' decisions and paths have also been wrought with oppression and despair...
I realize I'm rambling with my stories, only to say that I hope in seeking out a lighter, and happier path that I am not too late in my endeavors. That this path will, like my mother, still be willing to welcome me with open arms and an open heart. I want my heart and soul to take on the lightness of the ukulele, though I still find beauty and value in the humanity that is also a part of the cello.
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