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Tag Archives: psychoanalysis

Daddy Issues

I’m going off of memory here because I’m lazy and don’t like to incorporate research (BLECK) into blogging, but I believe it was Freud, and Oedipus, that theorized our first loves are our opposing sex parent when we are babies and young children. Little boys love their mothers and little girls love their fathers truer and deeper than they think they’ll ever love anyone else, and the reaction of said parent is more important to how we shape our views of ourselves than I, and most people I’d wager, ever realize. Whether this is true or not, I can’t tell you, but I know for me, my father and our relationship has proven to be the catalyst for most of my crazy issues as an adult.

My parents divorced when I was about 5, and most of the memories that I have of the time before are not so peachy. Lots of yelling, lots of fighting and lots of pissed off dad. His anger was scary, he’d yell and scream and throw shit, and as a 5 and less year old kid, I had a decision to make – be afraid of my own father, or try to do things that didn’t make him angry. Queue the emergence of my brilliant wit. I learned quickly that when dad was laughing, he wasn’t yelling and the choice for me was obvious – I wanted a laughy dad, not a screamy one. Besides, a couple of hits on the ass with a wooden spoon would have even made Jesus renounce his religion, if it had happened to him as a three year old.

Flash forward to my adult life and the main lesson that that little girl learned – do whatever it takes to avoid confrontation and make sure everyone is happy in order to avoid chaos and fear. To this day, I make jokes in tense situations to avoid the anger or sadness that may present itself otherwise. Laughter beat out dads anger, but the laughter was just masking my fear, not displacing it. Don’t get me wrong, I love laughing and having a good time, but I pushed myself into being that way as a child because it was a way better option than being screamed at and cracked over the ass with a wooden spoon by my dad because I spilled some milk on the kitchen floor. Remember – 5 years old and less….

Our relationship as adults is less of a relationship and more of a requirement. He expects me to honor and obey, and forgive him when he tells me that depression is something I should be able to handle myself, and that it’s ‘stupid’ that I am on antidepressants. He wants me to go out of my way for him and give him the unconditional love that he’s never given me. He wants me to yearn for his affection that he withholds like it’s the last jar of peanut butter on earth. Yet, despite all of that, I still try to make him happy. I still try to be uplifting and funny and I still try to be that little girl who he used to get so much enjoyment out of  – but as an adult, it’s harder for me to suppress the fact that I’ve never felt my dad loved me for who I am, only for the laughter I could create. I’ve always felt he loved me just because I could make him not be angry, and that isn’t the unconditional love that a child needs from their father. It’s made me derive my self worth through how I can make others feel – if I can’t make people turn that frown upside down, then I’m worthless. If I can’t solve a problem for someone, I’m a piece of shit, and so on and so on.  I want him to be happy, I want him to enjoy life, but every time that I try to bring that to him, he shoots me down. He makes sure every conversation ends with a ‘reality check’, which leaves me feeling like the world is terrible and not worth being a part of. He’s so resistant to letting go of his negativity and constant belittling that he makes no effort to ease our strained relationship, despite the fact that he is acutely aware that it exists. And that makes me sad for him, and sad for me because there is so much more to this thing called life than just hating on it and bitching about the bad shit that happens to us all sometimes. I want to have a relationship with my father that is healthy and loving and where I feel he accepts me and that I am good enough to be called his daughter, but I’m realizing through age and therapy that that just isn’t going to happen. He’s always going to think I could do more, or be better, or thinner or prettier or a harder worker, but not in an encouraging kind of way, more like a ‘you are not good enough’ one.

Tonight in my therapy session, I realized that my dads happiness is not my responsibility, and it’s OK that that makes me sad. I cannot live my life for him, and I cannot allow him to drag me down when I find something to be positive about. I love my dad, and I always will, but I don’t LOVE my dad, and I wish that I could.

 

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Some things change, some things stay the same

It’s been several years now since it started, (somewhere between 4 and 6, I honestly stopped paying attention) and yet I’m still about to write this next sentence: My therapist has suggested that I start blogging again. It helps to solidify the neuro pathways that I’ve rediscovered and it helps to emphasize the reasons behind why I’ve made the choices that I’ve made, and why I used to think that I only deserved [X] amount of anything – happiness, love, kindness, friendship, you name it. I almost feel like I should create an entirely new blog as I am not the same mentally nor emotionally as I was when I started this, or even the last time I posted, and its only natural to want a fresh start after such change.

My ‘perception filter’, as my therapist calls it, is still distorted to a point, but I’ve managed to get the blame game down to a dull roar and I can now see where my deep-seated feelings of guilt, worry and my overwhelming fear of disappointing others comes from. The knowledge alone has opened so many doors in my head that I feel like my brain is a freaking mansion as opposed to a cardboard box. A cardboard box that was once shared with evil, spiteful rats, gnawing on whatever was left of my well-being without regard.

Thanks to my amazing therapist and my own want to learn and grow, I am excruciatingly happy today. I am content with who I am, and I am content if there are people out there who don’t like that, or me. I can say with confidence that, emotionally, there isn’t much I can’t handle now, and I have more confidence and trust in myself now than I’ve had in a long time. Life is good and I look forward to each day with a genuine smile and the outlook that great things are on the horizon. After several years of dating, trying to find the man who fit into my needs and wants while I fit into his, I have found one who is the closest I could ever hope for, and I know that were it not for my therapist and the progress that I’ve made personally, he would not be in my life at this time, and that is the best motivation to continue to grow that a girl could EVER ask for.

I hope to continue to explore myself and what makes me tick, and I hope that I can begin to start sharing my growth again via writing, as it truly is something that I enjoy and I denied myself enjoyment for too long. I saw something via one of those witty websites the other day, a meme of an EKG heart rate; underneath it stated “If life didn’t have ups and downs, you’d be dead.” Well spoken and a good reminder that the bad things that happen don’t have to define who you are or what you do – YOU make those choices and only you can take back the control and turn life into what you want it to be. Thanks be to my therapist for helping me learn that lesson.

 

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Feast or famine

It seems that I only feel like blogging when I’m hating on myself via some deep-seated emotional issue that has been triggered by a thought or some outside event. This post shall be no different from the norm.

Failure is a word that triggers a strong emotional and mental response from me. It could be failure to complete a task appropriately or the failure of a relationship – it doesn’t matter, either way, I end up feeling like a fuck up who can’t do anything right or correct in life. This is a feeling that has followed me around longer than I’ve probably even been aware of it, and it’s become a topic of interest over my last few therapy sessions.

Each time I recount the failure of a relationship, or that one time I applied for something and was denied, or when I just allow people to take advantage of me, I end up a bleary eyed mess and full of emotional turmoil. Mistakes are failures, the inability to mesh with a single person for the rest of my life is a failure and you bet your ass that I’ve failed at life because I’ve never accomplished the dreams I had as a stupid child. It’s enough to drive a person into a downward spiral of depressive sludge.

Today, as I was having a moment of incredible weakness to my BFF, I kind of realized that in some deep, dark, psychotherapy place in the recesses of my mind, my parents divorce has warped my perception of relationships and their levels of success or failure. I’m sure it’s much more involved than that and I’m sure it has a lot more to do with the whole inability to deal with or discuss emotions that my entire family possesses, but I’ve never really thought of my parents divorce in a negative way until today. It’s one of those situations where the more you learn about yourself, why you react the way that you do to certain things, and where those feelings of inner turmoil and blackness actually COME from, that you can’t help but start to look at events in your life differently.Some end up being more detrimental while others end up having that silver lining to them. My BFF pointed out that relationships take two people and that I cannot blame myself for the end of every relationship because I AM AWESOME. So, in a moment of clarity, I’ve realized that I AM awesome, and have apparently been setting my sights too low, hence the fizzle of each of my past relationships. Awesome shines brightly and some people just burn faster than others. To truly be happy in life, I need to aim high and find someone who’s awesome matches my own, instead of dialing down my aura to fit others.

 

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Musical Release

I have to say that I really fucking hate it when I’m right about things. I mean, when it involves a couple of friends rectifying some bitchfest just because they finally talk, LIKE I SUGGESTED, and realize that it was a buncha crap; that shit’s cool. But it’s the times where I know I’ve put myself completely out on the line, and I know that line is going to get cut, that make me want to swear to a life of celibacy. I don’t know why I do it cause I get really pissy and emotional while I am waiting to find out if those scissors are gonna snap or not, so it’s not that I do it for the emotional rush – I feel like a fucking asshole who is miserable all of the time, for Christ’s sake! And I don’t do it to make the other person feel sorry for me, either. I don’t want to be pittyed, damnit! So, I figure that I am either someone who gets their kicks from being  kicked or I must do it because I am fucking INSANE.  It’s only by the grace of my higher power, and my unrelenting ability to get kicked in the head, and still get back up, that I am sitting in my chair, writing this post with my legs surrounded by 2 dogs and 2 cats instead of sitting on a cot in a padded cell with my legs surrounded by restraint devices. Do you know what the definition of Insanity is? “Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.” Yup, learned that gem when I was hitting up those happenin’ N.A. meetings with my ex…but I digress. I can only deduct that INSANITY is what leads me down these dead end paths. It provokes me by dangling a moments worth of hope in front of me like a carrot on a string. It knows that it only takes one little glimmer of the possibility of things going how I want them to go, to hook me. I drop like a fucking horse from a gun. Then I’m stuck, by the proverbial hook, line and sinker.

You’d think knowing this about myself would enable me to NOT put my fragile emotional state into such ridiculously perilous positions, but alas, it does not. My brilliance only helps me in as far as NOT getting my hopes up about anything. I like to consider myself a cynical romantic. I want someone to hold the door for me, I just expect that he’s going to slam it in my face. I want to spill all my messed up thoughts to someone and not have him judge me, but I know that he will, so I keep everything inside. I want to love and be loved, but I know it’s impossible. And I can’t think of another person who is even more of a cynical romantic than I could ever hope to be, except for the fantastic Ani DiFranco.

Ani DiFranco’s Gravel

I heard the sound of your bike
As your wheels hit the gravel
And your engine in the driveway, cutting off
I pushed through the screen door
And I stood out on the porch
Thinking fight, fight, fight, at all costs

But instead I let you in
Just like I’ve always done
I sat you down and offered you a beer
And across the kitchen table
I fired several rounds
But you were still sitting there when the smoke cleared

You came crawling back to say
That you want to make good in the end
Oh, let me count the ways that I abhore you
You were never a good lay
And you never were a good friend
But oh, what can I say, I adore you

All I need is my leather
One t-shirt and two socks
I’ll keep my hands warm in your pockets
And you can use the engine blocks
We’ll ride out to california
With my arms around your chest
And I’ll pretend this is real
Cuz this is what I like best

You’ve been juggling two women
Like a stupid circus clown
Telling both we are the one
And maybe you can keep me
From ever being happy
But you’re not going to stop me
From having fun

So let’s go, before I change my mind
I’ll leave the luggage of all your lies behind
Cuz I am bigger than everything that came before
You were never very kind
And you let me way down every time
But oh, what can I say, I adore you

 

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Lovin’ me some Songs

For those who don’t know, on January 1st 2007 some asshat wanker broke into my garage and stole my entire book of cd’s – all 125 of them. At least, that’s all that I could remember when I made the police report. I should have seen this year coming. The first day taking a shit on a gal is enough to make ya wonder if the ones following are going to treat you any kinder. Fortunately, not all hope is lost. Despite my life’s collection being stolen from me, one of my friends is as obsessive about music as I am and has been kind enough to periodically burn me some tunes. And I do hope that he knows how very much this means to me.

The latest cd I received has to be my favorite, though. Everything from The Allman Brother’s Tied to the Whipping Post to Weezer’s Suzanne, I’d had forgotten so many fantastic songs existed and I am so grateful to him for bring them back into my life, as well as his usual eclectic mix of things I’ve never heard, but still love. *wink* To him, I am forever indebted. They say music soothes the ravished soul, and I had forgotten how fantastic Eric “Slow Hands” Clapton really was at doing that. Not to mention that this particular song, so I heard, was co-written by none other than my favorite lyricist of all time – Sir Paul McCartney. Having said that, I must also say this: Fuck you and your one leg, Heather Mills!!

May I introduce to you, Derek and the Domino’s Bell Bottom Blues. I apologize in advance for the fact that the audio is merely a snipet, but the cd is permanently embedded into my cd player of my car at this very moment. Therefore I was unable to rip a copy to upload for your listening pleasure. Sorry, but that cd may never see the light of day again…

Bell bottom blues, you made me cry.
I don’t want to lose this feeling.
And if I could choose a place to die
It would be in your arms.

Do you want to see me crawl across the floor to you?
Do you want to hear me beg you to take me back?
I’d gladly do it because
I don’t want to fade away.
Give me one more day, please.
I don’t want to fade away.
In your heart I want to stay.

It’s all wrong, but it’s all right.
The way that you treat me baby.
Once I was strong but I lost the fight.
You won’t find a better loser.

Chorus

Chorus

Bell bottom blues, don’t say goodbye.
I’m sure we’re gonna meet again,
And if we do, don’t you be surprised
If you find me with another lover.

Chorus

I don’t want to fade away.
Give me one more day please.
I don’t want to fade away.
In your heart I long to stay.

 

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Musical Upset

I have to admit that this post has less to do with me, and more to do with someone else. But nonetheless, there is a point…

Cake with End of the Movie

People you love
Will turn their backs on you
You’ll lose your hair
Your teeth
Your knife will fall out of its sheath
But you still don’t like to leave before the end of the movie
People you hate will get their hooks into you
They’ll pull you down
You’ll frown
They’ll tar you and drag you through town
But you still don’t like to leave before the end of the movie
No you still don’t like to leave before the end of the show
People you hate will get their hooks into you
They’ll pull you down
You’ll frown
They’ll tar you and drag you through town
But you still don’t like to leave before the end of the movie
No you still don’t like to leave before the end of the show

 

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Lobotomy, anyone?

This weekend I found myself sitting on my ass watching more television than is probably healthy for a person to watch. Most of the viewing consisted of anything that I could find of interest, and I usually changed the channel everytime that a commercial came on, although I was fixated on one movie in particular. I remember in High School we did a stage interpretation of One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest and I regretted having never seen Jack Nicholson playing R.P. McMurphy before hand, as it really is a fantastic roll. For those who do not know of this movie/play, check this out. Now, many may see Mac’s finality as a curse, but where my life has been lately, it would be a blessing.

I’d love to just get a frontal lobe done so that I can forget all of the emotionally exhausting scenarios which have plagued my life, as of late. There is something ridiculously appealing about being a Zombie, sans the brain eating and all. I’d have trouble getting down with that. Walking around without a literal care in the world just seems like heaven on earth to me, so much so in fact, I may start a petition legalizing lobotomies again. We need a Dr. Jack Kevorkian for memories around here!

In honor of my fragile emotional state, I’ve elected this song for 2 reasons:

a) This song is an ultimate unrequited love kinda song. Nothing allows me to wallow in my self indulgent misery quite as well. And

2) It’s The fucking Beatles, man!

You’ve got to Hide Your Love Away by The Beatles

Here i stand head in hand
Turn my face to the wall
If she’s gone i can’t go on
Feelin’ two-foot small

Everywhere people stare
Each and every day
I can see them laugh at me
And i hear them say

Hey you’ve got to hide your love away
Hey you’ve got to hide your love away

How could i even try
I can never win
Hearing them, seeing them
In the state i’m in

How could she say to me
Love will find a way
Gather round all you clowns
Let me hear you say

Hey you’ve got to hide your love away
Hey you’ve got to hide your love away

 

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