Once again it is time to let go of origin family, that group of people I was unfortunate to be born into. The pressure on me over the last few years to interact with them has worked, because I am pliable if you keep at me.
Don had his wife work on me the most. Don wants to have his chief role of family leader once again but does it through her. And she is a prickly kind of animal, not one I’ve ever been able to be close to, and felt guilty about as if that’s my fault. (as usual)
And that has been what has occurred. I’m at fault. She has talked about me to the two other brothers because I didn’t serve the promised apple pie. Samuel and I ate the apple pie, but when they came with sidekick Seth, I presented a perfect grape pie from our own grapes. Making a grape pie takes much more work. Not enough for her.
Over the next months I heard about not making the promised apple pie at least three times. She’d email about it, say it at the next get-together, and yet again another time. More of a shock, while setting down the gorgeous perfectly made pie with Don, Seth, her, and Samuel at my table, Seth smirks saying, ‘not apple!’
Stunned at the rudeness, my reply was, ‘how many people have you told?’
Rolling over letting myself be kicked, the official doormat. The thing I do is is what you need, not what I need. Where once feeling left out as they made this new little group, but then relenting, I became a plastic replica of who I used to be… a robotic pleaser. I need to stay OUT. They keep digging at my insides making them bleed all over again.
Seth would only have said that because she must have complained to him about not saving the promised apple pie. And she must have extolled my failure of a human being to my younger brother up north too. Both Seth and Stevie have made her apple tortes and pies. To make up for my shortcomings? This is true sickness, making me oh so sick too. If what lies below a certain flavor dessert is a hurt over broken promises, talk to ME, not everybody else. But that’s what they all do.
Each time the absurd complaint was aired I rolled over as my face was smashed in her shit, once even by email several weeks ago. After that latest complaint I email back, ‘I do owe you an apple pie.’ Really? Why would I continue with this idiocy, even cruelty?
Virginia, why not just say ‘thank you?’ How the fuck did this become a thing about me to yet again blow out what little self-esteem I’ve begun to muster? My work on all healthy things has slowed greatly ever since caving to the pressure to be part of their little dysfunctional sick, sick, group.
But this is how it goes in the origin mess. Even though the worst member, Tom, who sexually attacked me when home on Christmas break from college when I just a little child, now lives out west, Virginia, Don’s wife, the apple pie demander, has taken up where Tom left off chipping away at me, talking to others about me, bringing me down. Some people don’t like to see others fly. All about an apple pie? This is why I’m bad?
And I let her, rolling over each time being kicked. No wonder my weight loss has stalled ever since relenting to Don needing me to become part of their little group. Being bad and being fat go together. Self-punishment for being wrong- but not knowing why, just that my existence is wrong.
My standings in this so called family are as shitty as always. They gang up having all the control. I am the lowest of scum you can kick whenever you want. That’s the awful message souring my soul that has only just begun to learn brightness, lightness, and freedom. Freedom has gone. The bonds hold me tight. Their demands are everywhere.
It is time to start fresh. Live my life with those who truly care for me. Not like Mom whose love came only when I kept quiet and pretended to love her sons who cruelly attacked me but never said sorry.
Sorry? I’m sorry I can’t be strong enough to stay away. But today is a new day.