Tuesday, September 10, 2013

The Space Where My Picture Used to Be- healing and accepting parental rejection

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