Just need to Vent

When I was 8, my mother married a Marine. Even before this point, I hadn't really established much of a relationship with her; we lived with her parents, and it was my grandmother who filled the role of parent while my mom was either working or holed up in her room. Things didn't improve after we moved in with her new husband, who had just recieved orders that took us into a new state on the other end of the country. John always brought his military mentality home with him, and came off more as a commanding officer than a father figure. I hadn't wanted to leave with her, and I still remember looking out the back window of our Dodge Dakota as we drove away from the only home I'd known for the first eight years of my life. I was in a new place, with people who called themselves my family, and I felt completely alone. I don't know how many times I told my mom that I wanted to go back, but every time she deflected it or came up with some excuse. "I miss my family," I'd say. Her response? "Now that you don't get to see them very much, that makes the time that you do get that much more special." She loved me, I knew that, and she always had the best intentions. But she had taken away my entire life, and replaced it with nothing but hollow excuses and the life of a nomad. Military families move a lot, generally every two or three years. We had the misfortune to get new orders almost exactly a year after the initial move, when I was 9 years old, and again in one more year. By the time I turned 11, we had moved three times, and every time I had to watch the life I'd started to build for myself slip away. My mother never listened to me when I voiced these feelings, so I just started to push them down. As I pushed down the painful emotions, the rest of them went as well. I could still feel emotion, but it was always damped, or turned down like the volume on a tv. And so I stayed this way, cold, logical, and stoic as I graduated high school and left her house as soon as I could. I remained this way for another year, until the dam broke about six weeks ago and I dealt with the full force of 11 years' worth of pain, sadness, loneliness, and anger all at once. I had always been in control of my emotions, but this was too much to handle. I physically collapsed from the force of it all, and through the torrent I could see one thing: "Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body." The United States Marine Corps motto. Eleven years of pain hadn't made me strong, it had simply taken away everything I'd ever known. That motto has mocked me for more than half of my life now, and in a blind rage I took one of John's old Marine Corps shirts with that damned phrase on the back, then tore it to shreds.

Losing control like that scared me. It pushed me to finally see a counselor for my problems, and in the weeks since I've been doing much better. My mother still loves me, and I think that in time I may come to love her as well. John is still up for grabs. After living with him for ten years, I still felt no more for him than I would for a random person I passed by on the street. Beneath the cold exterior, it seems I'd repressed feelings toward him of anger and resentment so well that I hadn't even known they existed, but I've dealt with them. Last week, I saw him for the first time since I left his house over a year ago, and I didn't feel any lingering anger. He was just a man who loved my mother. Maybe I can even build a relationship with him, but that's further into the future than my mother.

The trigger for all of this was the breakup with my girlfriend. There was no fight, no raised voices, or even a disagreement. She merely is in the process of dealing with emotional, psychological, and hormonal baggage that interferes with her life so much that she cannot enjoy a relationship, and in fact has been further stressed by the time we shared. She will not be able to truly enjoy a relationship until she has her own emotions under control.

She is still my world. When the dam was still up and I felt only faint echoes of my true emotions, she made me truly happy. The entire time we were together, we were never sexually involved, and I had no problem with that. The emotional connection we had was enough for me. She was, and still is, my first love, and going back to simple friendship feels no differently than a dagger to the heart. Her mother recently started dating a guy, and every time I see them together, it serves as a reminder of what I can't have. It's been six weeks since the breakup, and yet every time I see her I feel the pain just as strongly as I did the first night.

I really need space, but that has its own implications. Getting away would also require distancing myself from her family, whom I've come to think of as my own. Tom, the mother's boyfriend, comes over to their house often to help cook dinner, to spend the night, or to go with them on a family outing. No matter my feelings, I'm still just a family friend who comes over occasionally for company. It's more salt in the wound, and I find myself jealous of Tom because he represents everything that's out of my reach. I really should step away, but the loss involved with that is extremely painful in another way. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't, but staying will only allow these feelings to fester. The only real option is to get away, yet so much holds me back.

It's ironic, really. In repressing my emotions as a child, I never learned to deal with them properly. Now I'm learning, and the darkness that had hung over me for 11 years is gone. My counselor even said, though it was not a formal diagnosis, that I had a case of arrested development. I've overcome a psychological condition that's plagued me for years, but love, love, is the most difficult thing to cope with. I've defeated my trauma, and now I have to face the difficulties of living a normal life.

I'm sorry for your loss. I'm glad you have a therapist to help you through this difficult time. The pain does ease in time. Also, sorry you had such a tough childhood. Stuffing those emotions all that time is sad. You lost so much time. You sound strong and have the capabilities to overcome these issues. Best wishes to you.
Gayle