Mother's Day 2017 I lost my shit.
To better define the day; I woke up for the first time and what I saw, felt, and found in my life, scared the shit out of me.
Another Mother's Day of very little acknowledgment. "Happy Mother's Day", and then the day was off and going. It being a Sunday, all five of us were home. I can't remember if we went to church. My memories revolve around being upset that I was invisible in my own life, with my own family. Inconsequential, never heard, always pushed to the side, the scapegoat for every wrong doing, misstep, or word spoken that didn't hit ears with the sweetest of sounds.
I'd spend up to that time, 17 years being as fluid as possible. Changing my habits, words, thoughts, moves, tone of voice, volume, order of words, way that I walked, time I spent in the house, out of the house, times I cooked, food I cooked, thinking I would never get things right. When something bothered me I brought it up gently and then ended the conversation apologizing profusely for why I was always so wrong in my thinking and feelings and why I needed so much help. A malcontent.
I needed help. That was the prevailing thought. "Why can't I change enough to make this man happy?" "Why is everything I do always wrong." "Why do I attack him." "Why do I allow insignificant things bother me?" "Why do I spew my evil all over my husband who loves me, cherishes me, puts me first, would do anything for me, gives me everything I want, is good and kind, and very patient with a wretch like me." "I can't even become someone better for him to love." "I should shut up, shut my whole self down and listen to him. He's so smart, more put together, and most of all doesn't find fault in me the way I find fault in him." I needed help
Dear Lord, change me.
A prayer I prayed for years. It was a sentiment that existed before I was married in 2000, but it was a full out cry after marriage and a prayer I prayed consistently from late 2000 through 2017.
That prayer was never answered and because no changes came, I began to believe that even God couldn't make me better. "Crying out loud I really am a terrible person", I thought. Thank goodness I had my husband who is patient and kind. I was so lucky.
There was a slow breakdown that happened before MD 2017 of course but, I wasn't consciously aware of it. When I look back I can see that my prayer began to shift from, "Lord, change me." to "what's wrong with me?" In my mind I began to dig down on this thought more and more and I was heavily asking this question the year prior to this fateful Mother's Day.
What I kept coming back to, again and again, was the belief that God does not make trash. I feel like a piece of trash but why? I love people, I'm not evil, I'm a helper, a fixer, I want good things for others and to help them achieve their goals. I began to make mental notes on how I really felt about family and friends, to really test how I felt in situations, looking out for jealousy, lying, betrayal, gossiping, hatred, all traits that would truly make me a bad person. The only things I found in me that I didn't like was what my husband was saying to me.
What's wrong with your face? You always look mad.
You stomp around the house all the time and are mad.
Why are you so mad?
Why don't you touch me?
You're attacking me.
I'm scared of you.
You're unapproachable.
I can't talk to you.
what's wrong with you
what's wrong with you
what's wrong
"What's wrong", was asked of me almost daily for roughly 6 years.
I took these words he spoke over me as truth. Never questioning that nothing was wrong with me, just took and ate that something WAS wrong with me because I was being told that repeatedly.
I was determined to be a better person and to pray harder for God to change me. If the one person in this world who loves me the most speaks to me this way, then I must really have problems. Try as I might, change as I may, it never paid off. I was always the same terrible person.
It scared me because I knew I wasn't any of those things and couldn't figure out why was the person closest to me saw so many negatives in me. I wasn't mad, I didn't stomp around the house, and I felt approachable. I loved to talk. I wanted to talk about everything. I wanted to work out problems and find solutions for things that weren't working in our family, however, those conversations always ended in me being accused of attacking him. Eventually I gave up trying to have those conversations.
Also, I began to investigate and ask questions right at the accusing moment. "Why are you asking me what's wrong? What am I doing that's putting of the vibe and cue that something is wrong?" I was digging for ways to change whatever I was doing, because usually there wasn't anything wrong with me in that moment. I would be doing dishes, cooking dinner, helping a child with homework, picking up the house when the "what's wrong" interrogation would begin. It was so perplexing and always a confusing conversation with no real reason of why I was being repeatedly questioned in this way. These conversations usually ended with me apologizing to him. The more I tried to find the root cause and explain how I really felt the more I was accused of attacking him. Eventually I also stopped looking for answers and just accepted that in fact something must be wrong with me, something that I couldn't see.
I've come to know I do have resting bitch face. I live in my head, constantly thinking and it causes me to carry tension in my face and shoulders. I didn't know that about myself until I investigated what was wrong with my face and why I was accused of being mad when I was almost never mad when the accusations came.
This whole situation became a self fulfilling prophecy for me because it led to anger. Frustration, anxiety, and anger slowly crept in and eventually when I was asked, "what's wrong", it would automatically spark quiet anger and frustration. I would share that it was this ongoing "what's wrong" conversation that was the problem. It was the thing that WAS wrong. And of course, I was once again accused of attacking. I was living a nightmare.
So, by the time MD 17 rolled around, I had spent a considerable amount of time thinking, praying, piecing things together, and the solid conclusion I came to was simple. I was not guilty of the things I was being accused of and I was not the person I was being made out to be. There is no way I was that bad of a person who had no redeeming qualities at all. Something was amiss, but what? Why do I have so many problems? So many problems and no help. No help from my husband, no help from my children, and no help from God. I was breaking down.
So, on this particular Mother's Day, I tried to talk to my husband about all of this. I started by asking for what I needed, for what I hoped would help me. First, I was needed to be visible in the house. I needed to be heard when I asked for help instead of ignored. I needed to be treated as someone who was worthy to sit, play games, and watch TV with the family instead of the maid in the kitchen, waiting hand and foot on everyone else. I needed to stop being asked what was wrong with me all the time because that IS what's wrong with m. "It's driving me crazy", I shared with him.
This conversation happened outside where we were away from the ears of the children but it migrated inside after he told me he had no idea what I was talking about and he didn't see any of those problems. He walked away from me and into the house. I began to cry and pointed out that this is what I'm talking about with invisibility. I'm not seen or heard. We end up in the kitchen and I'm visibly upset and I'm beginning to reach out to the kids who were ages 18, 15, and 9 at this time. I began to explain to them what I needed and how I felt. He kept saying silly things to make the kids giggle, while I stood and cried.
I ended up driving around by myself that day. I already knew he viewed this as a personal attack at him and that I had to pull my shit together, push what I was feeling down and just live in this mess I'd now created. There was no fixing it.
After that day nothing changed. It was like I said nothing at all. All the "what's wrong" kept coming at me. However, I was able to see a little more clearly that, I had some valid points. I was ignored, I was being belittled, and not cared for. All the problems weren't mine alone. After more than a decade of believe I was THE problem, that was a huge victory. It helped me get back on my feet, to find hope that I wasn't trash and to know all the problems weren't solely mine after all. It was a solid foundation to stand on.
To better define the day; I woke up for the first time and what I saw, felt, and found in my life, scared the shit out of me.
Another Mother's Day of very little acknowledgment. "Happy Mother's Day", and then the day was off and going. It being a Sunday, all five of us were home. I can't remember if we went to church. My memories revolve around being upset that I was invisible in my own life, with my own family. Inconsequential, never heard, always pushed to the side, the scapegoat for every wrong doing, misstep, or word spoken that didn't hit ears with the sweetest of sounds.
I'd spend up to that time, 17 years being as fluid as possible. Changing my habits, words, thoughts, moves, tone of voice, volume, order of words, way that I walked, time I spent in the house, out of the house, times I cooked, food I cooked, thinking I would never get things right. When something bothered me I brought it up gently and then ended the conversation apologizing profusely for why I was always so wrong in my thinking and feelings and why I needed so much help. A malcontent.
I needed help. That was the prevailing thought. "Why can't I change enough to make this man happy?" "Why is everything I do always wrong." "Why do I attack him." "Why do I allow insignificant things bother me?" "Why do I spew my evil all over my husband who loves me, cherishes me, puts me first, would do anything for me, gives me everything I want, is good and kind, and very patient with a wretch like me." "I can't even become someone better for him to love." "I should shut up, shut my whole self down and listen to him. He's so smart, more put together, and most of all doesn't find fault in me the way I find fault in him." I needed help
Dear Lord, change me.
A prayer I prayed for years. It was a sentiment that existed before I was married in 2000, but it was a full out cry after marriage and a prayer I prayed consistently from late 2000 through 2017.
That prayer was never answered and because no changes came, I began to believe that even God couldn't make me better. "Crying out loud I really am a terrible person", I thought. Thank goodness I had my husband who is patient and kind. I was so lucky.
There was a slow breakdown that happened before MD 2017 of course but, I wasn't consciously aware of it. When I look back I can see that my prayer began to shift from, "Lord, change me." to "what's wrong with me?" In my mind I began to dig down on this thought more and more and I was heavily asking this question the year prior to this fateful Mother's Day.
What I kept coming back to, again and again, was the belief that God does not make trash. I feel like a piece of trash but why? I love people, I'm not evil, I'm a helper, a fixer, I want good things for others and to help them achieve their goals. I began to make mental notes on how I really felt about family and friends, to really test how I felt in situations, looking out for jealousy, lying, betrayal, gossiping, hatred, all traits that would truly make me a bad person. The only things I found in me that I didn't like was what my husband was saying to me.
What's wrong with your face? You always look mad.
You stomp around the house all the time and are mad.
Why are you so mad?
Why don't you touch me?
You're attacking me.
I'm scared of you.
You're unapproachable.
I can't talk to you.
what's wrong with you
what's wrong with you
what's wrong
"What's wrong", was asked of me almost daily for roughly 6 years.
I took these words he spoke over me as truth. Never questioning that nothing was wrong with me, just took and ate that something WAS wrong with me because I was being told that repeatedly.
I was determined to be a better person and to pray harder for God to change me. If the one person in this world who loves me the most speaks to me this way, then I must really have problems. Try as I might, change as I may, it never paid off. I was always the same terrible person.
It scared me because I knew I wasn't any of those things and couldn't figure out why was the person closest to me saw so many negatives in me. I wasn't mad, I didn't stomp around the house, and I felt approachable. I loved to talk. I wanted to talk about everything. I wanted to work out problems and find solutions for things that weren't working in our family, however, those conversations always ended in me being accused of attacking him. Eventually I gave up trying to have those conversations.
Also, I began to investigate and ask questions right at the accusing moment. "Why are you asking me what's wrong? What am I doing that's putting of the vibe and cue that something is wrong?" I was digging for ways to change whatever I was doing, because usually there wasn't anything wrong with me in that moment. I would be doing dishes, cooking dinner, helping a child with homework, picking up the house when the "what's wrong" interrogation would begin. It was so perplexing and always a confusing conversation with no real reason of why I was being repeatedly questioned in this way. These conversations usually ended with me apologizing to him. The more I tried to find the root cause and explain how I really felt the more I was accused of attacking him. Eventually I also stopped looking for answers and just accepted that in fact something must be wrong with me, something that I couldn't see.
I've come to know I do have resting bitch face. I live in my head, constantly thinking and it causes me to carry tension in my face and shoulders. I didn't know that about myself until I investigated what was wrong with my face and why I was accused of being mad when I was almost never mad when the accusations came.
This whole situation became a self fulfilling prophecy for me because it led to anger. Frustration, anxiety, and anger slowly crept in and eventually when I was asked, "what's wrong", it would automatically spark quiet anger and frustration. I would share that it was this ongoing "what's wrong" conversation that was the problem. It was the thing that WAS wrong. And of course, I was once again accused of attacking. I was living a nightmare.
So, by the time MD 17 rolled around, I had spent a considerable amount of time thinking, praying, piecing things together, and the solid conclusion I came to was simple. I was not guilty of the things I was being accused of and I was not the person I was being made out to be. There is no way I was that bad of a person who had no redeeming qualities at all. Something was amiss, but what? Why do I have so many problems? So many problems and no help. No help from my husband, no help from my children, and no help from God. I was breaking down.
So, on this particular Mother's Day, I tried to talk to my husband about all of this. I started by asking for what I needed, for what I hoped would help me. First, I was needed to be visible in the house. I needed to be heard when I asked for help instead of ignored. I needed to be treated as someone who was worthy to sit, play games, and watch TV with the family instead of the maid in the kitchen, waiting hand and foot on everyone else. I needed to stop being asked what was wrong with me all the time because that IS what's wrong with m. "It's driving me crazy", I shared with him.
This conversation happened outside where we were away from the ears of the children but it migrated inside after he told me he had no idea what I was talking about and he didn't see any of those problems. He walked away from me and into the house. I began to cry and pointed out that this is what I'm talking about with invisibility. I'm not seen or heard. We end up in the kitchen and I'm visibly upset and I'm beginning to reach out to the kids who were ages 18, 15, and 9 at this time. I began to explain to them what I needed and how I felt. He kept saying silly things to make the kids giggle, while I stood and cried.
I ended up driving around by myself that day. I already knew he viewed this as a personal attack at him and that I had to pull my shit together, push what I was feeling down and just live in this mess I'd now created. There was no fixing it.
After that day nothing changed. It was like I said nothing at all. All the "what's wrong" kept coming at me. However, I was able to see a little more clearly that, I had some valid points. I was ignored, I was being belittled, and not cared for. All the problems weren't mine alone. After more than a decade of believe I was THE problem, that was a huge victory. It helped me get back on my feet, to find hope that I wasn't trash and to know all the problems weren't solely mine after all. It was a solid foundation to stand on.
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