After a tough week, Friday is finally here. I day dream about Fridays all throughout the week. Monday morning at 8 am, I am thinking about Friday at 5:00 pm. I think it is what keeps me going.
Thank God it is Friday! I love Fridays!
Watching Dad’s therapy went ok. He is able to walk with the help of a walker and can get in and out of a car and bath tub and up a step. His apartment is on the first floor of the apartment building and there is only one step to get into the building. He probably could go home but we need a few things done to the apartment first like bars in the bath tub, so he is going to go to Mom’s nursing home’s acute care unit for a little bit until we can get that coordinated.
Worry about my parents has been a major source of my anxiety and problems. Growing up, Mom had changed after the births of secret sister then my brother. She became withdrawn and cold and started to hoard certain items. Dad on the other hand was a miserable, sleep-deprived mess and enabler of Mom. Looking back, it probably was the beginning of the dementia/schizophrenic tendencies that she has. Growing up and going through changes that every kid goes through while my parent’s lives were disintegrating was hard.
I grew up fast and was totally unprepared for it. I developed very early, and far before any of my classmates. It was awkward and the boys in my class, who were a mess of hormones, harassed me about my chest to no end. I hated school. I had to fight them off from touching me in class and on the recess fields. I didn’t tell my parents and the teacher didn’t notice or care. I would afraid I would get in trouble. I dealt with it by coming home from school and going into my room. I did this for 7 years. I gained weight. They won’t bother me if I am fat. No one will go after a fat girl. And no one did.
Things were disintegrating in my parents house. Mom was slipping into dementia. Dad had gotten help but was an enabler. It was very isolating. I never had anyone over. Very few people came to visit. The outgoing talk to anyone little kid that I was long gone.
I escaped by going away to college. I went far far away where no one would know me. I ran to Bradley University in Peoria. It was the best move of my life. I escaped. I had been plotting it since sophomore year in high school. I needed to get away.
To this day, I still feel very self conscious and sort of ashamed about my chest. When men comment, I sort of wilt away.
My relationship with my parents were always close. Perhaps a bit too close. At first in therapy, my therapist felt I should break off from my parents. I could not do it. We depended on each other too much, my family. My parents would call and I would come. My siblings and their problems consumed me. My parent’s problems consumed me. It was driving me crazy.
Though hard work on my part, I have dealt with the issues that kept me into that room. I have spent a lot of time ruminating over the events over and over again. Me and my Dad have endless discussed it and he apologized. If only my parents had gotten me help then. If they did, would my life be better today?
I can’t say. It has made me stronger. Things that happened almost 30 years ago still haunt me to this day but I have persevered and I am a fighter. It sort of feels good to write about it here.