This morning my husband mentioned something to me that set off one of my triggers. It's the trigger that is linked to a sad, desperate, despairing deep in my the pit of stomach. It doesn't matter what it was, because that's not really important. What is important is that something so seemingly mundane should not release in me such extreme emotions that I sit on the edge swinging my feet, and tossing pebbles curiously into the pit of despair for the rest of the day. I make no fuss. No one around me would likely guess that I feel this way. I have matured enough to know that my reaction to something so small is out of proportion to the situation. It's a quiet sadness that longs for reassurance.
I know where this pain comes from, and while it's understandable, there is no logic in getting upset over something I can't control.
A few weeks ago my grandfather, and his new wife came to take my two oldest to stay with them for a few days. I jumped at this opportunity, because neither my parents, or my husband's parents (except his father) do anything with my kids. They literally don't ever have the grandparent experience. While they were there they visited my parents.
My daughter said that there was no evidence in their home that I even ever existed. All pictures of me have been removed
, and while I am mentioned it is only to blame me for various things that I haven't even been around them to do. My mother took my very impressionable aspie child, and told him that it is all my fault she can't see them anymore, which isn't true. She has told so many people lies about me to get sympathy from others that I am literally disowned from my whole family. Not that they ever were terribly concerned about anyone but themselves to begin with, but nonetheless. I know that my mother has some sort of personality disorder. She picks a new person to hate about every decade, or so. That person becomes her target, and the reason why nothing is right in her life. My father goes with it, because arguing with her will make him that target, and he doesn't want that.
I honestly think there is no way to heal fully from this kind of pain. It's not the same as being adopted, or your parents dying. It's full on rejection. I am rejected from the people that are supposed to love me unconditionally, and the most. They don't care if I am alive, or dead. They deal with my children if they come to them, but otherwise not even a birthday card will come my kid's way. It really makes me stop, and second guess what kind of person that I am. Am I really that awful? What did I do to deserve this? I ask these questions, and the logical answers are no, and nothing, but my heart doesn't hear that, because it doesn't make sense to my inner child. My emotions don't operate off of the logic. I feel unworthy, and so when something comes along that pokes at that feeling I tend to react with painful emotions.
I know that this feeling will dissipate. I will feel better, but I really don't think I will ever feel whole. I don't think there is a way to get over that kind of grief. I often wonder what it would be like to have had that foundation of love, and care? I guess I will ever know.