Hey. No, we aren't left handed.

I think that my stepmother is partly jealous of me. She never got the opportunity to go to university. I have suggested to her that she pick up a course or two now that she is retired (she could get a student loan for that which she would never have to pay back) but I don't know that she took my suggestion seriously. Part of that is probably the same fear that everyone has that they won't be smart enough or whatever. She could jolly well do that though and so it is her choice that she does not.

I try and be charitable and sympathetic to her. I'm aware that the way I narrate the story affects how I view her which affects how I behave towards her which affects how she behaves towards me. That is partly why I was annoyed with my t saying that she had rejected me. If I view her as rejecting me then it makes anger an understandable response. If I view her as rejecting me then it is hard not to feel angry. I don't want to feel angry at her because I don't want to put my Father in any more of an uncomfortable position than he is already. I don't want to promote tension or hostility between them.

When I was talking to my t I did say something about how it is really hard to take it when she tells me that my Father is proud of me (which she did after I got accepted to do my PhD on scholarship). I was angry about that because for so long she was ashamed of me. I was the black sheep. The drug addict. The mentally ill person who had been just released from the institution. The person who might not ever be able to walk. She was ashamed of me. Then (once I was accepted to do my PhD) she gloated about me to her brother and his wife in my presence. Resulting in their children (my cousins?) feeling bad about their not having gone to university... I said something to my t about how I was not her prize object and if she couldn't feel proud of me before then she had no right to be proud of me then. I said that in quite a loud / indignant tone. A little while later he said something about my being angry with her... And I denied it. It was only after therapy that I wondered why he thought I felt angry with her and I remembered that earlier part of the conversation.

I do feel angry with her.

I feel angry with her because she never said anything validating of me or supportive of me or encouraging of me until then. I feel angry with her because I tried my hardest to please her and all of my best efforts were criticised. I feel angry with her for rejecting me then justifying it by saying that I rejected her. I feel angry with her for always prioritising her children over me. I feel angry with her for stepping in to assist her children while I always had to practically beg and feel guilty for asking for their assistance. I feel angry that she doesn't like it that I have a connection with my Father. I feel angry that she goes on about how good it is that I spend time with my Father and yet she scowls when I actually do spend time with my Father. I feel angry that she blames the distance between my Father and myself on me when she is so rejecting of me when I try and spend time with him. I feel angry that she required me to run around after her validating her (and rejecting my validation) when I was a %#@&#! kid who needed someone to do that for me. I feel angry that everything is supposed to be my fault. I feel angry that she requires my Father to choose between me or her.

I feel angry that my Father chose her. I feel angry that my Father chose her over me. I feel angry that there were other %#@&#! women that he dated who accepted me and he chose my %#@&#! stepmother over them. I feel angry that he says he is there for me but that his behaviour has him running for the hills because he simply... Doesn't know what to do.

I feel so sad for him that he doesn't know what to do.
He doesn't know what to do.
He needs someone to look after him.
That he was (and is) incapable of looking after me.
That he only has time for me when she allows it.

And my choice (as has always been my choice) is to push it down push it down push all these hard feelings down. To personalise it. To feel depressed. To hide away in my room because I thought if I was quiet if I was quiet if I was oh so very quiet then they would forget that I was in the house and then they wouldn't be able to object to my presence. That they would let me stay with them.

But it didn't matter what I did... It didn't matter what I did...

They sent me home. That was when I realised that my Father wasn't going to take me away from my mother. I ran away. They looked into my situation with my mother. I was put in a social welfare home. ashamed of me... my father didn't come and see me once when i was in the home. know what he says?

we thought you were happy there.

it is better that i don't have anything to do with them.
they just hurt.

she makes him choose.
she puts him in that position over and over and over.
and he keeps choosing her.

i had to push it down
(i have to push it down)
because if i don't...
i'll lose him for good.

so i'll just repress it.
and kt can cry
but j will lock her away
behind iron and stone and steel
she'll never express dependency or need
dependency or need that will only be ignored
as someone else makes demands
and people choose them over me
every time.