there are moments when i drift back to this place that i don't like, and i dwell in it. maybe it is normal for women my age to feel this way, but over the last few days, i have felt like the girl cave with the cats is the best place to be. contact with the outside world seems to exacerbate my feelings that i am never a priority in any other person's life, and never have been.
why is that?
too much time has been wasted trying to figure this one out. it is what it is. but how did it get to be this way? was this part of the package when i came here this time? am i supposed to be working this out? i am trying to be open minded, but i keep coming back over and over to this. no one out there in my life, especially those people who should be concerned about me, seem to take me or my feelings seriously. this gives me a serious case of "i-feel-sorry-for me" and, while i don't like it, it is starting to be a nasty little niche i stay in.
when i was a kid i couldn't make any friends who seemed to like me or want to seek me out. i was the afterthought, the 3rd wheel, the kid someone hung with because she was just there. i know i talked a lot, i know i was hyperactive. but i also know i wanted friends, and none sought me out. i always had to be the person trying to make friends with someone. it didn't improve when we moved to richmond and i spent middle school with no significant best friends until i met pauline, ginny and ginger. they were considerably older than i was, but did seem to like having me around and we did things together and it was fine. but then they all grew up, and by 1971, that was over and i was on my own at school and in the neighborhood.
i met m.j. in 1973 and have spent the last 35 years being at the bottom of the pedestal looking up. after having spent 4 days with her in june, i finally got the closure i needed. she herself said that if it hadn't been for me, she probably wouldn't still be friends with me. that says a lot. and it is also indicative of what i have done my whole life, which is make the phone calls, maintain the lifeline. few people actually call me. and again, i have to wonder why.
but it gets worse in many ways when i look at those people in my life who were supposed to love me and think about me. parents. bebo. austin. and in all cases, i am sort of insignificant on their radars, a blip. my mother i have spent a lifetime trying to please, and while i have figured out somethings, i am never without my guard up. she is getting better in her old age, but i do not trust her with my feelings too much. i try, too much i might say, and i am always disappointed. i have at least learned she is not to be trusted to not hurt me, but i guess i will go to my grave being optimistic. the fact is, she is emotionally unavailable in most ways for me. her reactions to anything i say involving how i feel are never what you would expect from a mother. they aren't comforting. there isn't much of a feeling of anything but anger or annoyance with who or what has upset me. she doesn't know how to comfort. i know it is not her fault, and thank god i learned that lesson as i got older. but it still doesn't mean i don't wish to be parented like the model.
bebo never really gave a shit about my feelings or what i needed/wanted. even when would tell him, if he didn't have the same feelings/experiences under his belt, what i felt was insignificant. period. and this was someone i was married to for 14 years. while he is a good person, he was unavailable too.
my brother is totally caught up in his own thoughts and problems, and when i discuss or mention anything to him, he is off on a tangent of either comparing himself to the problem (and how his experience might have been worse), giving me advice (based upon his own experiences, which aren't mine), or talking about himself for long periods of time and forgetting whatever it was that i was talking about. this is why i don't like talking to him anymore.
and then there is austin, who has the incredible ability to make me just weep. i see, unfortunately, his father and his lack of empathy stamped all over austin, and it worries me. i cannot distinguish any longer whether his choices are because he is 17, or if they are who he has developed into. unquestionably, being a male AND a young are playing into all of this. but he is just either hell bent on doing what he wants, or he is just so unconnected that he doesn't care. he doesn't seem to value what i feel. i cannot seem to get him to see that he needs to stop arguing with me and just give me a little comfort or at least validation. he doesn't need to have had the experience to be at least sympathetic. instead, he makes things all worse by arguing with me until i am crying, more out of frustration that no one hears me than anything else. and when i reach that point, it hurts. and i am down into the girl cave and hiding.
time passing seems to smooth over the waves of whatever tempest has upset the current boat. but i keep going back to the same question: why doesn't anyone love me enough to care how i feel? what is it about me that no one seems to want to listen to what i have to say or even give me a hug? i am bereft of all of this type of comfort when down, and this is why i find my cats to be ultimately more delightful and helpful than humans.
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