I was rather disappointed with my journal entry earlier this evening; it felt like just a small bit of fluff, and I really wanted to write something more substatntial. It looks like I'm going to get what I asked for. Of course it had to wait until 2 AM. I hope Jev doesn't mind if I only make a brief appearance in the morning.
My e-mail friend in Denver sent me a package for Valentine's Day, and it arrived this afternoon, several days before she'd expected it to. When I took it to my room to open it, I found a wonderful book of cross stitch patterns, a cute little cat stitched on plastic canvas, and a tape of a lecture on shame and guilt.
I looked through the book (and mentally added a few more projects to my 'to do' list), put the kitty on top of my monitor, and popped the cassette in to listen to a bit and see what it was like. I was a little wrapped up in Babylon 5 and web surfing at the time, so I decided to save it for when things were a little quieter, and I sat down and wrote my friend an e-mail, letting her know the package arrived, and thanking her for the wonderful goodies.
In the ebb and flow of the afternoon and evening, I never had time to listen to the tape, so I figurred I'd do that tomorrow (today now) while I stitched or something. But when I hopped off the computer tonight and made ready for bed, I decided to grab the tape and my portable player, and listen while I fell asleep. That was the plan, anyway; that was about an hour or so ago. You'd think I'd learn not to stir up my brain right before bed, wouldn't you?
I really identified with some of the things in the lecture. It's just strange to hear someone talking about what I've gone through and felt like nobody else in the world would understand, and know that not only the person talking, but a lot of people in the audience too, can relate. My mom especially, often made me feel like the things I'd made, or what ever feat I'd accomplished, weren't worth anything.
I laid here after the tape ended and thought about things, but it seems that as much as shame was a large negative influence in my growing up years, I think fear was even more so.
I remember being five or six and home from school because I'd been sick. Mom was at work, and one of my grown up brothers who was living with us at the time, was supposed to be watching me. My brother kept ungodly hours though, and instead of watching me, he was sleeping the day way, leaving me to entertain myself. I was bored, and wanted to play with my Lite Brite, but it wasn't plugged in.
I must have had it drilled into my head that plugging electrical things in was very dangerous, and should only be done by grownups. Sure, that's a sensible thing to teach a child when they're too young to understand things, but by age six, I was quite smart enough that Mom could have taught me how to hold the plug and not touch the metal prongs when I plugged it in. Mom was, for the longest time, very very protective of me. Overly so.
I tried to wake my brother (Mom told me to wake him up if I needed anything), but when I told him what I wanted, he was annoyed and told me I should be able to do it myself. I must have done it eventually, because I recall playing with the Lite Brite later that day; but when Mom asked me who plugged it in, I'm sure I told her my brother did it.
I did a lot of that, growing up... doing things she'd told me I wasn't supposed to do, and then making up stories when she asked me how I managed, so I wouldn't get in trouble.
When I was eight or nine, I wasn't allowed to cross the street by myself (we're talking about a straight A fourth grade student here), or go into anyone else's house (not even friends my own age) without my mom's permission, or one of my own relatives, or go anywhere at all with someone Mom didn't know well enough. But either my dad didn't know these rules had been set, or he thought they were foolish, because I had a lot more freedom, and was expected to be a lot more mature, when I was at my dad's house on the weekends.
I walked across the street (my dad lived in a fairly quiet housing tract) by myself to visit my godparents; I went to McDonald's with the kids next door for a birthday party; I rode my bike all the way around the block with my friends (and it was a long block!)... Dad never had a problem with any of it. But when I'd go home and Mom asked me what I'd done, I would let something slip that I wasn't supposed to do by myself, and then when she'd ask about it, I'd cover with "Oh, Margie went with me." Well, Margie is nine years older than I am, and she had no interest in babysitting a kid who could handle herself, given the chance.
Sure, I felt guilty for telling lies; I knew that was wrong. But to me it was a lot better than being caught in the truth, and then lectured and humiliated, and possibly even spanked. I must say, I was rarely ever spanked growing up, and even then it was only a hand applied to the butt a few times, but I really dreaded it; with a fused spine, even a hand applied to the butt can jar your whole body. And even without a spanking, I was the sensitive kind of child who would cry if you even gave her a cross look.
I've always tried to please everyone, especially my mom, and I think that made growing up harder on me. I was good, but never good enough. Even now, I try to please far too many people at times, and that's when I find that life gets the most stressful.
I feel like I should always have or be able to find the solution to everyone's problem, and it's next to impossible for me to say no when someone asks for a favor. I feel like if I say 'I don't know,' then I'm not smart enough, even if the person with the problem only wants a friend to listen to them, and isn't looking for answers. And I feel like I"m being selfish with my time, money or resources if I say no to a request for one of those. There's a lot of guilt there, and I've let it pressure me into many a situation I might better have avoided.
Acccording to the lecture, the way to break the cycle of shame in your life is to open up and talk to other people about your experiences with it. I'm not writing to anyone in particular here, but perhaps just getting it out in the open is a good first step.
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