Monday, July 3, 2006

Mind Fuck

Seriously, no one can truly fuck you up like your mother. I know it has different effects on boys and girls, but WHEW... my mom... I can't even put her into words.

I think the SICKEST part of all of it, is that I'm just like her. Stubborn, strong willed, independent, headstrong... (When I have to be that is... I'm not sure how I come accross to others since I'm desperate to please and fear I come accross as rather submissive... But I guess that's just because it's what I want to do...) However, we always seem to be that way AGAINST each other. And you know what that means? That means "I Lose" because she's the mom, she's older, she's just that much more evil.

Sadly she doesn't see how she has created this competition between the two of us. She's always saying how proud she is of me, how far I've made it in life at this age compared to her, how she loves me, fights for me, needs me, but then she's quick to remind me she's still better. When I bought my cute little sports car, she was the first to remind me that she had a Mercedes 600 series AMG. When i built my new home, she was quick to inform me that her house cost close to a million dollars. When i got my 1st coach purse, she went and bought a bigger one. When I told her I've been sticking to my diet and I've lost 10 lbs so far, she has apparently lost 20. When I mention how hard my divorce and excommunication from church is on me, I get a 2 hour speech on how much more aweful her marriage to my father was or how unfair her own reinstatement was. When I say I feel pretty, she reminds me that she was professional model when she was my age. When I say how well I'm doing at my job or that I got a raise or that I've just crossed the 10 year mark, she's the 1st to say how fortunate she was to find a man who takes such good care of her and that she doesn't have to work.

I can't win. I'm never enough. My whole life I've been fighting, fighting SO hard to prove to ANYONE that I am something good. But it's never ENOUGH. I'm not smart enough, pretty enough, fun enough, established enough, successful enough, tough enough, good enough, gracious enough... ANYTHING ENOUGH!

It's maddening.

And I'm not sitting here saying that I really feel that way. Of course, the rational side of me says there is always someone out there who is going to be better than you. I can't be perfect. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm tired. Keeping any sort of self esteem and blocking all those thoughts out of my mind is EXHAUSTING. Especially when she calls me OFTEN and this just keeps happening. Have you figured out yet that I just got one of those calls this morning?

And when I told her how I felt, her words were "Well, you are dead wrong." And when I got upset and screamed and cursed at her, she said that I was sick and twisted and that she would just never call me again because she couldn't take the emotional beatings that I KEEP giving her. When I asked her not to martyr herself of the phone, she cried hysterically and said she's just fighting for me and missed me and needed me, but that I was heartless and made her feel like she could never do anything right or be good enough for me.

... silence ...

Maybe I really am sick and twisted. Maybe I am the martyr. Maybe anything... I have nothing to ground myself. No guage to let me know whether I'm swimming up or down. But I have to be tough for my brother. I have to be tough for myself. I have to be tough for her. And I just have to block all that out and stand on my own 2 feet. Make up my mind that I'm fine and just work on being good and loving and kind and honest so that no one else will ever say I've created these feelings in them. I may be the only one I know with THIS exact situation, but I am certainly not alone in dealing with trialsome family issues. It's good to know I'm not alone.

Thanks for reading this. If you think I'm really fucked up, please tell me and straighten me out. I fear I need a reality check. LOL.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Religious Oppression

You know, I don't really talk much about religion because it's hard to explain to someone who hasn't lived MY religious experience. Especially in a blog. Plus I have this incredible guilt about bad mouthing them to the world for fear that if there IS a god he would be quite displeased with me.

BUT in talking with a friend who has shared the hell that is witnessdom with me, i had the revelation of how strongly it has affected me. Not just in my growing up, but now in my adulthood as the rejection is palpable.

I guess I never learned how to make friends as a child. How could I? I spent all that time at school, but couldn't really develop a relationship because there was never any after school possibilities. (Parents wouldn't let anyone who wasn't a witness come over) and we always lived so far out no one would come see me even if it was acceptable. No after school activities, no school dances, no football games, no prom, no ANYTHING. I truly spent all of my time alone or only with family.

Being sheltered was not the protection parents thought it was. It was a life sentence for me. I feel like I'm years behind and always trying to catch up. Instead of dating or having a boyfriend or just hanging out with friends and going to the mall, I was on home studies cooking for a husband that was really my dad, caring for a baby that was really my brother, and nursing a dying patient that was really my mother.

I'm unsure of every step I take because EVERY STEP is a new one. At 25 I'd never celebrated a birthday, a Christmas, a mothers day. Never drank a green beer. Never set off a firework. I'm days away from turning 28 and I've never even been on a date.

And now that the witness ties and family bonds were broken, I have this huge abandonment issue. If EVERYONE I KNOW ,including my own mother, can turn their back on me while I repent and beg for forgiveness (to no avail), how could I not doubt the sincerity of those who claim to BE THERE for me now? That's why I don't TRULY lean on my friends when i need them. SIGH

In the same way, it's caused me to be selfless to the point of injury in my own forgivness of another. That's my problem. Instead of setting a standard for myself and setting boundries to protect myself, I just blindly open up and put MY WHOLE SELF OUT THERE and hold them close to me. I can't bear the thought of someone feeling that cold hearted "rejection" coming from me. I know how badly that hurts.

It's also caused me to realize I don't know who I am. I spend HOURS trying to think what makes me... ME. Yet, I can't choose a direction. I WANT TO DO IT ALL. I'm so starved for EXPERIENCE, how could I possibly cut off even ONE option? It comes off like I contradict myself or that I just lack follow thru, but that's not true. Is jack of all trades, master of none really a good thing?

Is it a contradiction to listen to Pantera and want to get the shit beat out of me in a mosh pit, and then come home and put on an apron and make vegetarian chicken w/ an herbs de provence sauce?

Is it a contradiction to drink wine and listen to jazz and just be a tourist/sightseer on Saturday and then go sit in some bachelors house on some shitty hand me down couch and drink a 40 of Mickey's with the boys?

Is it a contradiction to shop and wear pink and heels and be stupid and immature and totally valley girl today, but spend my time recycling and connecting with nature and meditating on my life seeking for inner peace and positive depth and growth tomorrow?

I've noticed that this same "contradiction" manifests itself as some sort of duality in my personality. In my need to not be judged and therefore not judge others I just want to BLEND in with who I'm with - be accepted. I constantly relive every laugh and sentence and comment to make sure that it was in line with who I'm with at the time. The worry that I said or did something wrong might cause another "cutting off" is more than I can bear. I laugh it off and say "When in Rome.." but does that mean there is no REAL ME?

Let's say I want to be a better designer and web programmer. That would mean giving up friendships and fun to stay in the house and read books all day. Lets say I want to be perfectly skinny. That would mean giving up my free time to cook and clean and be domestic so I could work out at the gym for hours and hours for the rest of my life. I want to work with animals and nature and just be a hippy who owns a communal garden and runs a small vegetarian cafe, but would I have to give up my fast paced, challenging, technical job and my glorious shoes and impractical sports car? I'm lost.

This has of course gotten off subject and bit too revealing for a blog. Talk about opening up and putting yourself out there for rejection...

I think to sum it up, I want people to put as much time and effort into me as I so desperately put into them. I just want balance and acceptance. For everyone to be happy. FOR ME TO BE HAPPY. Think it's possible? In my innocence I have to say yes. I'm working on it. I'm working on it.


Friday, April 14, 2006

I don't want to do this anymore

Yeah... That about sums it up. Everything sucks. And I can't even tell you if I'm unbelievably sad. Really lonely. Or I just don't care anymore.

Spare me the speech where you say... "Oh My Gosh Marisa, You're so smart and pretty and successful... everything will be fine" UGH

I'm numb.

I'm sure things will pass. It's only been 1 week since grandma died... Did I mention grandpa was given today to live... so boy should tomorrow be exciting. Can't wait to attend another barbaric funeral.

I really don't want to care tomorrow. I don't want to "need" anymore.... to worry anymore. Not that these leave much to be desired in an average life. I'm home alone today. It sucks and yet i could care less. I feel trapped in the quit center of a storm. Like there is nothing, no sound...

So before I just rant out things that are mean and stupid and defetist, I'll simply write lyrics from my new favorite song:

Beth Hart
Hidden Track after ..13 - Screaming For My Supper

Violence, here them play
On the Fence, where I lay
It's where I live
Tumble down to the ground
Watch it flash
Not a sound, there's no sound

And he says, that it don't matter to me
He'll say, that all this love is for free
He said, it don't matter to me, it don't matter to me

Take me down, unconsciousness
Hold me now, decadence
Lay me out in your house of sin
Take me down...
...There's no sound

House of sin, somebody sinned
Tumbled down onto my knees
Watch it burn, hold your screams
Somebody sinned

He said nothing to me
That all this war is for free
He said, it ain't nothing to me and i would never agree
So take me now, unconsciousness
Hold me now, decadence
Lay me in your house of sin
Take me down


Violence screaming at your feet
You're sowing every time you speak


Good night everyone.

Saturday, April 1, 2006

Melancholy and my infinite sadness

Sounds dramatic doesn't it? Well it is, so if you want to keep pretending that I'm just happy go lucky all the time, stop reading now.

On this rollercoaster of life, I've found myself in a downward spin. I wish I had the courage to just kill myself and not have to worry anymore, but the eternal optimist in me says tomorrow will be better. It's tomorrow... It's the day after tomorrow... It's still not better...

I just returned from my grandma's funeral. You know, the grandma who hasn't spoken to me in 2 years. The grandma who put religion before family and considered me the... what am I saying? She didn't "consider me" at all. I wasn't even welcome at the hospital to say goodbye. Yeah that grandma... the sweet little old lady that was so affectionately called "Dear Dear" by all that knew her.

As I walk into the hall where 562 people arrive to pay their respect, I'm not allowed to speak to anyone. I am angry, yet i find myself crying. Crying, not for the grandma who didn't care, but for myself. For myself as I see a SEA OF PEOPLE all hugging and "supporting" each other, but not me. Marisa, once again, has to be strong for herself. As I look at my sister who hasn't so much as glanced in my direction for over 2 years, and my brother sitting with his new wife that I was so diplomatically not invited to the wedding. THEY smile, THEY get hugs, THEY get support... THEY are ok. But not me. I will forever wear this scarlet letter. The one that lets everyone know what a wreched whore I am. What a defective reject I am.

It hurts... I HURT...

THEY are all on their way to a huge dinner/gala event. 561 of them were invited. Not me. I was sent home, told to LEAVE. It would be inappropriate for me to "sociallize" OF COURSE. For those of you who have talked to me, you would know my WORST fear in life is for someone to not like me... HMPF... Talk about living your nightmare.

I will never be the same from the experience of these last 2 years. So alone. So unworthy. Marked. How can they do this to someone? Yes, I've made mistakes. Yes, I OWN THEM. I LIVE THEM... But I can't take them back. 2 years - TWO YEARS. Where I gave up everything I knew, my husband, my house, my dogs, my friends, my family and I'm still not forgiven. This from the people who said these "displinary actions" were out of love. A loving reproof to HELP ME see the errors of my ways and return to the right path. Well, if embarassment and rejection and shame is a "loving reproof" then consider me reproved.

So I'm that girl. The sad girl who sits in her house. The wierd girl who cuts herself and cries herself to sleep at night. And why go outside? So that I can spend my evening avoiding the 6.5 millions Witnesses out there who aren't allowed to utter so much as a "hello" to me? I didn't know I was THAT GIRL. You know, the one who is so powerful that simply speaking a greeting to me is enough to cripple your whole faith in god. Be warned...

I have some friends. They say "Call me if you need to talk..." Talk about what? About all the things that I can't do anything about? About all the things no one else could understand unless they had truly walked in my shoes?

I have no friends. All I have is distractions. I don't know anyone like me. I know cool people with husbands, kids, busy lives, things to live for, look forward to. And so I sit here in this house... I work... I work some more. I feed the dog. That about covers it.

So I'm home, home alone, again. And I've lost interest in this subject. It's saturday night, but no ones calling. And I don't know if I want them to. I have work to do. I have some shelves to put together in the garage to store some work decorations on.

Take care all. I'll be fine. I always am.

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