#BlogLife528 - Cornflakes or rice krispie treats?/Who is proud of you?

It's Friday afternoon and as you know I don't publish today as usually I am burnt out and it's no different at present.

I am mentally and physically drained and I just tried to have a nap as I'm chilly again and my head is pounding for some reason.

But it wouldn't take so I'm back up and the reason for the double title is I was thinking about snacks and then somehow my thoughts migrated elsewhere.

But I didn't want to change the title. If I had thought of it, I would have put on the cold eye gel mask I keep in the fridge but I forgot about it.

I'll probably ask for the newer one with the eye holes cut out because I hate not seeing. I don't like to interrupt the flow of productivity, unless I'm napping.

Oh shoot I keep forgetting to do the Iceland shop for tomorrow. Be right back.

That's done and I grabbed the eye mask from the fridge and my head has gone numb now, still a bit of pain but much less intense, which I am relieved about.

I remember winning it from a newspaper competition and how surprised and happy I was because it was useful and cute with eyelashes printed on it.

The coldness only lasts what seems like a few minutes but it helps with my eyes especially because the contact lenses can dry them out and make them tender.

I'm just going to leave it on my forehead like a headband. It looks like I have two sets of eyes ha!

Alright back to the title. Did you help your parents make fun desserts when you were lil?

I know my Mama had lots of recipe books but I think she used them as a guide and went with her instincts.

Her forte was usually savoury things, breads, rolls, cheese rolls, patties, pies etc.

Her cakes, biscuits and desserts were a bit hit and miss for some reason.

Maybe she over or under did the ingredients or left it to long or not enough in the oven? I'm not sure.

But I do remember being her lil helper, sometimes enthusiastically, other times begrudgingly.

As a girl it was expected to be responsible at a young age. I apparently babysat, did prep work and was useful in general.

And when I was browsing Ocado for munchies, I saw they had the chocolate cornflake snack and I loved that.

I'm pretty sure we used to make that at home but it was more the rice krispie one which wasn't as good.

I don't remember the hyper criticisms starting there. I know she was grateful for me to assist in the peeling, chopping, washing, that sort of thing.

But there was some name calling, there was a constant comparison to other children, who were smarter, slimmer, outgoing and popular.

There was never an acceptance of, Hmm, you're not like your parents or brothers, you're an individual who is quiet and curvy and has a healthy appetite.

I do recall my parents wanted me to be someone like them and not myself.

At that point I was seeking their approval and wanted them to be happy and proud of me because that's what I thought I needed to be content.

But it wasn't, I discovered through the bullying at home that I'm just me and that's perfectly adequate.

I don't need be their ideal vision because I was okay with stumbling and learning and trying to figure out, who I was going to become.

That was definitely one of the reasons I struggled with my self-esteem/depression because of that non-acceptance.

I kept trying to be better, whether it was starving myself, whether it was forcing myself to be sociable and around people that hated my guts and mocked me to my face and behind my back.

I persisted in all these attempts to be seen. What will always bother me is the girl vs boys distinction.

That no matter how badly the other 2 misbehaved, were disrespectful and broke the law, their status was elevated to a God-like reputation.

And I didn't understand that at all. Here was me, trying to be polite and co-operative and good and my parents were so disappointed in me.

Friends were disgusted, family thought I was laughable. I didn't consider myself fake.

I aspired to be the way everyone expected/wanted me to be. Even though I never achieved it.

I don't think my parents were ever proud of me and they probably won't be.

But that's fine because I don't need it anymore and I'm proud of myself for attempting to be tolerable and try their ways because it taught me, how to be authentic.

Through that I actually did find myself. I grew up and realised people were putting me in the shadows and trying to keep me down for their own ego.

And one by one I got rid of them because friendships are kind and supportive and nurturing, they are not mean and hurtful.

If no-one has uttered I am proud of you. Then I will say to you. For all the lil and big achievements.

I will pat you on the back and say Well done! I know what you are capable of and you have unlimited potential.

I hope that you see that and if not today, maybe in the future.

I am so proud of you :)

I don't know where this fits in and maybe it does not but something has been preying on my mind and I have to put it somewhere.

I recall a long time ago females especially visitors turning up and reading cards and there were words saying You're Mama is great, you're so lucky to have her, I feel close enough to call her my Mama too.

And at first I was territorial as though, Hey she belongs to me, not you, get your own parent.

However when I thought about it and matured. I thought, that's alright that she has gratitude shown and she's helped them and they have formed a bond.

But it also struck me that there is no way in hell, she showed them her mean side.

The bullying side, the critical side, the crushing self-esteem side of her, that she mostly projected onto me.

And I thought Hmmmmm. I wonder what they would think, if they knew what the other side of her was like?

To her own daughter, her own flesh and blood and I was never tempted to expose her.

That never crossed my mind at all. I just wished that she could have shown me that encouraging, empathetic, kind side of her.

She is not all bad. She can be supportive and sympathetic but the years of damage have been done and there is no way to fix that or make it better.

And I feel unburdened sharing that with you. That is the simple truth.

I was trying to grow up happy and then insecurity and my weight and my looks were hammered into me, that I didn't measure up.

I SS, was never good enough but I worked so hard to get back to my calm, confident peaceful place.

She has a nagging sister that judges her and she doesn't realise she does the same to me.

That's how it feels, decisions are wrong, thoughts are misguided, actions are not accepted.

Especially the anger, distrust and bitterness towards my siblings.

She can't let me have those emotions, even though I grew up petrified that I wouldn't survive.

Even though I was verbally abused every day. Even though they made me hate and torture myself.

I have every right to feel how I feel, even if she disagrees. They made me not want not to live anymore.

One last memory that keeps popping up is going clothes shopping with her and trying on a jacket or dress that was barely an inch too small.

But I needed it almost immediately so I didn't purchase it. The look of disappointment and resignation on her face though, was what killed me.

It was like, Ughhhhh really? Look at you. I'm stuck with an overweight daughter that has no self-control and can't make me proud of her, because she eats and eats.

Why couldn't I have her cousin instead, which is the one I really wanted.

She in comparison, is bright, self-assured, skinny, worldly, outgoing and has food discipline but no instead I get stuck with you.

What did I do to deserve you???

She didn't say any of the above but it was written all over her face.

I'm not exaggerating. I'm not being pessimistic. I'm just being transparent.

And you know how I can tell, she was thinking all of that? All I heard growing up, was why can't you be like your cousins???

In other words, why do you have to be you????

That is pretty cutting to hear. No wonder I didn't like myself.