tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4079681358332005341.post4874216225682595479..comments2023-03-22T08:50:03.413-04:00Comments on Diary of a Scapegoat: Had a memory earlier today...DisturbedAngelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225187766715006090noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4079681358332005341.post-31622120863586102212011-08-13T02:46:35.257-04:002011-08-13T02:46:35.257-04:00Wow. Other women just like my NM. My mother had ...Wow. Other women just like my NM. My mother had hysterics when I had a bad swimming accident and they didn't use a plastic surgeon to repair the damage on my forehead. She was worried that my looks would be damaged and I would be less. Really. What about the incredible headache that her hysterics made MUCH worse. Now, the 3 inch scar is barely noticeable hiding in my wrinkles. For years no one has realized how big the scar is or even where it is located. <br />You know what is a true credit to you? You are so different in how you choose to treat ds. You are choosing time and again to place the welfare of your dh and ds at the top of your list of what is important. I enjoy reading how you are choosing to take care of yourself and your family. You are doing great.Ruthhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07083142637240943607noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4079681358332005341.post-47914787333180100112011-08-12T01:45:11.955-04:002011-08-12T01:45:11.955-04:00This reminds me of the time in high school when I ...This reminds me of the time in high school when I got in trouble for being bulimic/anorexic. Yep, I said in trouble. I had been engaged in my eating disorder for over a year before my parents finally figured it out. I was grounded, my car was taken away, I wasn't allowed to talk on the phone unless they listened in, I had to come home from school right after the last bell. I was made to see a nutritionist once a week who was to teach me the proper way of eating. My mother attended a session once and I got to sit there listening to the nutritionist say things like, see, look at how you are hurting your poor mother by refusing to eat, while my mother sat there with an angry/pained look on her face. <br /><br />Yes, we look at our children and cannot imagine how it would be possible to completely ignore, discredit or disallow their pain. But we were an extension of our parents and so not allowed to have our own feelings. They took our feelings away from us and said, you are wrong! You are nobody! How dare you have emotions! I am the only one allowed to have emotions around here! <br /><br />Then we grow into adults and wonder why half the time we feel nothing. The other half the time we feel anxious, nervous, insecure, uncertain and confused. When we feel extreme emotions, we don't what to do with them, so we act out. We scream and cry like little children. We had no role model to teach us how to feel so we don't know what to do. We are like blind baby mice, stumbling out of a hole in the ground into the bright sun. What is this I feel? Oh! I don't like it! I'm not supposed to have feelings! What shall I do? Maybe I should ignore it! Maybe I should discredit it! Maybe I should think I am wrong to feel this way! Hmm.. wondered where we learned that?Motherless Childhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09323676530139344159noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4079681358332005341.post-58057640157577124622011-08-11T20:22:43.298-04:002011-08-11T20:22:43.298-04:00Oh boy. This reminded me immediately of a family-f...Oh boy. This reminded me immediately of a family-friend, who's mother may have been raised by a N. I remember she told us this story once, about how when she was about twelve, she was bike-riding outside and she took a really, really bad fall. When she got up and made it home, she was covered in mud and blood and it was dripping everywhere.<br /><br />Her mother was upset that she was making a mess in the house.<br /><br />Seriously??? When your child is hurt, in pain, or suffering, and you care more about how she's tracking dirt in the house and dripping blood on your floor (or walls, or couch, or fuck, whatever!) there is something seriously fucked up going on. I can't even imagine that.<br /><br />Once, when DD fell and bumped her lip, it didn't even register until after she had calmed down and we got ice on it, that she had been bleeding on one of my brand new shirts. But even after I realized it, I didn't care. All I cared about was making her feel better. It breaks my heart when my child is hurting...not so much when she gets blood on my "precious belongings." MY CHILDREN are my most precious "belongings."Jonsihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17517677634712242866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4079681358332005341.post-78051325305040542011-08-11T19:00:59.333-04:002011-08-11T19:00:59.333-04:00Good for you for making it out alive and striving ...Good for you for making it out alive and striving to be healthy! I'm so sorry you went through that nightmare. Your NM's response makes me sick. You have so much strength and courage to have made all the healthy changes you have. What an incredible blessing you are. To bad your NM never saw it.Judyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07843239483061220089noreply@blogger.com