Saturday, March 31, 2012

I am Superman.




  Well I'm not, and let me be quick to point out, I have no illusions that I am. Which is the point of this post.
Growing up I felt that  invincibility of youth. Even my parents couldn't squelch that.  But you can bet your ass that the feeling was not inspired by either of them.
  There was never any pep talk about how we could all grow up to be president. We were never given that pitch that anyone could do anything that a person put their mind to. There was never anything real but us all pitching in to over come the latest Barbarian stunt. The self assured continuity that I see in normal people is the thing that my mother deprived us of. If there was any good times, they were transitory and not to be trusted. She felt it was her duty to knock the stuffing's out of any forward progress we made. All she left me with is a compelling need to always keep moving lest something catch me from behind.
The years we spent as a "family" were  all punctuated by her random acts of insanity. If my sister and I ended the year attending the same school we started, that was as good as it got.
I can't blame it all on her.
My father allowed her to act any way she wanted with little or no repercussions. To him, the answer to her having an affair was to move across town. As if that would snap her legs shut like a trap.
Even after his death, and with the family scattered to the winds, she made a point of slagging anything we went out and made happen on our own.
You guys know what I mean. That's what brings you here. The little digs slid between two slices of feel good blatherskype. The pecking that sounds encouraging until you run it through your head later and realize her words were a total dismissal of anything important to you. Being an adult on the receiving end of  bullshit so outlandish that you can't believe the words actually came from her mouth. And even though you heard them with your own ears, you couldn't make yourself believe she meant them the way she so obviously did.
  When you add to the dilemma that her legal issues and my fathers death sucked up any money that might have been set aside as a spring board to send me or my sister to any sort of college. Or to buy a car. Or to put clothes on our back for fucks sake.
If not for my grandparents, my sister and I would have ran around naked, with out food, and I am not so sure we would have made it through grade school.
And we weren't poor. Not like that. My mother had her wants and needs and my father saw to it they were met. No matter who she had been blowing in the back seat of a car earlier that day. And no matter how thoroughly it compromised his children's welfare.
Fuck a bunch of kids needs. And fuck a bunch of what may help their future. Why would they think twice about jettisoning us like old piss from the International Space Station.
Just blow us out into space and see you fucking later.
All we ever got from them was a hard time. Why change?
I think when he looked at me and my sister, we were reminders of how she cuckolded him and it was much easier to dump his two kids than to own the fact his wife is the biggest slut in the county.
My father and mother moved out of my grand mother's house after her murder trial. They just drove away and left me and my sister at my grand mothers. I was too stupid to understand I was being blown off and ended up tagging along later. My sister couldn't get shed of them quick enough. I got the same deal  after my father snuffed it. By then I was old enough to see what was what and stay away from the loon..
By god there better be life after death because I am going to stick both their heads in the heavenly paint shaker if I can catch up with them.
I was having such a nice night listening to R.E.M. and now I am on a rant.
Oh well. Rants are where you find them.






13 comments:

Lisa said...

If that was a rant, well, I liked it!

vicariousrising said...

I never felt invincible. I always had this fear of being obliterated into nothingness.

q1605 said...

Thanks Lisa.
VR. Invincible is a poor choice of word. No matter what all went on around me, they could never kill that sliver of child like wonder. She managed it quite well as an adult, but as a kid I felt more like if I could make it through their shit, I could make it through anything. But then that's part of the problem.
Survival is better than nothing. But the thought of achieving things beyond survival that other people take for granted was foreign to me.
In the dynamic of modern civilization, survival is tantamount to failure. It's just not enough. We all have to be some movers and shakers and innovators or we come off as defective.
To me that's a sad commentary. But the way things are these days, the whole mass feeding of the narcissist component of our psyche, I don't think it will change for the better in our life time

Anonymous said...

Rant away! Isn't it crazy how the most screwed up parent "runs the show" for the entire foo? Or should I say sucks up every last resource the family has? As kids we had no choice but to go along with the agenda set by the parent(s) regardless of how ridiculous-or worse-even we as kids
could see the responses to the insanity were. (Awkward sentence construction but I'm sure you all will get the drift.) We were viewed as "appendages" at best, PITAs at worst located here for the 'convenience' of the bat-shit crazy parent-when we were thought of at all.

This is IMO way worse than "kids raising kids." It seems to me there was nothing which these people wouldn't attempt to pull off regardless of how repugnant: As long as they "didn't get caught" they were "golden." In the event they did, they'd use any and all resources (including us) to avoid the consequences of their behavior. Nice to know we were good for something. (sarcasm)

These people murder our souls with impunity. Unfortunately, there's no recourse for us to repay the "favor" because they never had a soul in any event. However, we didn't know that at the time the way we know it now. IMO, we need to cut ourselves some slack here instead of beating ourselves up over our own powerlessness.

I do believe as we age and have the time and distance to view our childhoods/adolescence/early adult lives we become yet more disgusted by their behavior. There isn't a chance in hell we'd do to our kids what was done to us.

vicariousrising nailed it, IMO: "...being obliterated into nothingness." A truly realistic appraisal of the experience of growing up with these kinds of "parents."

Again, rant away, and know you're heard and understood very well.
TW

q1605 said...

As an adult I would never stand for the shit they dealt us. But it was all we knew. I remember something that happened as we were driving to Louisiana. I was about 8. I sucked a life saver down the wrong pipe and about choked to death in the back seat. I was getting just enough air to not turn blue. So I say there and maintained until it dissolved.
I can't say I was afraid of being punished. And I can't say much of anything about why I just didn't call it to their attention. I would have if I had ascertained I was about to give up the ghost.
But as long as not creating a distraction was an option, that was what I defaulted to.
I just sat there half panicked, hoping and waiting for that thing to dissolve.
I don't know if this relates to the post. But I thought of it after reading your comment.

Lisa said...

That reminds me of a time when I was around 8 and choked on a butterscotch candy jumping on the bed. My dad flipped me over by the ankles and out it came.

Funny, I'm starting to realize just now too that I didn't have a plan for making it past 20. Now that I have, I'm starting to realize that I have no idea what to do. I started thinking that growing up, I lived every day like I was going to die the next day, and not in a good way. More like...I couldn't take anything seriously. Other people, relationships, whatever, in the end, could all go to hell because really I just didn't have any time for anything except to survive and just get through. I didn't take anything seriously, not myself or anything else. It's not because I was like a commitment-phobe in the contemporary sense, I wasn't like super flakey, I think of myself as loyal, but really who knows, I couldn't commit. I just didn't have a choice. Jobs? Oh yeah, jobs yeah, I might say oh I wanna do that or maybe this, but really the back of my mind is reeling from the terror of being homeless. Oh yeah, drive a car, okay, except the back of my mind is reeling from terror of losing control of the car. Oh yeah, friends okay, except the back of my mind is reeling from terror of you being a complete bitch to me and dropping me like a hot potato the next day. It's just how it was. Now I'm 25, now that I made it over that hump, I'm a little stunned and confused. I admit, I'm feeling pretty effed up. Looking back, it's like what the fuck? I didn't expect to make it to be able to look back in the first fucking place...now what.
Life was a lot easier when it was just black and white. Now I can plan past tomorrow and I'm realizing how empty I am in certain parts. In all that quiet, without the lunatic rage. There are parts of me that are still completely unknown to me, blank, I'm starting to realize.

q1605 said...

It's a journey that we don't have a map for.

Anonymous said...

Oh YEAH. Not only were we lacking a map, we expected to be toe tagged by the ripe old age of what? 6? 13? 18? 20?

That sense of a foreshortened future is classic stuff. But IMO more importantly, it's impossible to plan ahead when you're just trying to live through today, maybe this week/month/year. And no one tells us or gives us any indication of when we're "officially adults." So we just keep slogging away, never realizing we've been adults forever, just in kids bodies.

A few years ago one night I choked (alone) at home on a frikin' Calcium supplement. In the middle of the mess I was on the floor with this damn piece of chalk stuck in my trachea and I thought, "What a ridiculous way to die. And how fitting."
TW

q1605 said...

I don't think either of my parents viewed us as living creatures. Or if they did we were like house cats. Some chore that had to be attended to occasionally lest we start yowling to loud for them to sleep.

Anonymous said...

Wow, all true! the post, the comments, everything, right-on!
I could write a comment about every aspect of it all. Great point, we never thought we'd make it through that day or week, so how could we plan for the future? And then as adults, "In all that quiet, without the lunatic rage." Like something is missing. You're glad it's missing, but what replaces it? Living in survival mode you get used to the adrenalin and panic. I think that's why I started yoga and meditation. You are far away from raging loonies, you slowly get in touch with You, and it's okay to be at peace.

Sis

Anonymous said...

I was just thinking of learned coping skills which i think is related, lol. As a kid I tuned them out, everything they did or said, and lived in my own little world. So I would be in my room (never went around them) coloring or cutting out paper dolls, and then I'd hear this ever louder screaming... "I've called your name ten times, can't you hear me, are you DEAF? What is your problem...". Hmm, selectively deaf you think? Or I would play outside literally all day from morning till dinner time and not go home once before dinner. Seriously, why would you go home?

Anonymous said...

p.s. That was me. (you knew that I bet, lol).


Sis

q1605 said...

I wasn't sure it was you until I got to the paper dolls and screaming.
It's the infamous Sis!