Dysfunctional attachments

Ifindpeopledraining...(thanks space bar - you made me smile on a non-smiley type of day.)

I find people draining. No offence, I do not mean to be rude. I am just stating a fact. I do not know if it is due to the fact that I am tired anyway and so any socialisation wears me out even more or whether I get fazed by having to face a lot of people when the spotlight is on me. I prefer quieter times with people I know.

This does not happen with dogs. Loads of dogs around me even all wanting attention would be fun and I would be in my element. It is just people. I suppose I have had a strange relationship with people all my life. I was born into a church family and so I immediately became one of their own. I did not have any say in the matter. They imposed themselves on me out of the so-called 'goodness of their hearts'. They thought they were being kind but what they were actually doing was overstepping any boundaries I may have had. Of which there were very few at the time.

How do we first set our own boundaries? By watching and learning from our role models, I suppose. Unfortunately my role models, my Mum and my dad were incapable of demonstrating positive boundaries. In hindsight, I think my Mum was overwhelmed with grief for her own Mum's death and was also possibly suffering post natal depression although it was never spoken about in those days. I also think she could not understand how the charming man she had married had become an aggressive monster bully and she feared for her own life but more importantly, for her baby's wellbeing.

I know my Mum suffered and she would cope by having time out lying on her bed each afternoon for a few hours when he was out. I was left to my own devices. Sometimes I would be so concerned that my Mummy had not moved for a while, I would go and open her eyes with my fingers. I had heard my parents talking about someone dying in their sleep so I was worried that would happen to my Mummy. Of course, her reaction was not what I had hoped for but at least I knew she was not dead. That warmed my heart even if my ears were ringing with her shouting or slapping me.

She also had major concerns about her youngest sister who was likewise struggling with the death of their mother. My Mum had been both the main carer for her two much younger sisters and their Mum who was very ill for many years. Her youngest sister, even though she was now in her twenties, found it very difficult to understand that my Mum now had a baby to care for too. My aunty had severe mental health issues and sadly her jealousy of me turned ugly.

My Mum never fully explained what my aunty did to me. She always said it was too horrific for words. But she did tell me she burnt me with her cigarettes and did other unmentionable things to me. I have an idea what she did to me as my body reacts to certain physical actions but I will never know for sure. As soon as my Mum realised this was happening she banished my aunty from our home and from ever seeing me. She would go and meet my aunty in a café or a park on her own instead.

I did not see my aunty again until she was in her 60s, when I specially went to her hometown to take her a food and clothing parcel from my Mum as she was struggling financially. I saw her again a few years later and my husband and I took her to a local beach. She suddenly regressed into a young child again and took off running down the beach and I remember being terrified that she would fall on those jagged rocks and hurt herself. I tried to keep up with her but she was so quick and nimble! The only way I could get her to come back to me was by offering her an ice cream. It was a memorable occasion. A beautiful sunny day on a stunning sandy beach with an aunty I knew had caused me so much pain and injury in my early years, and had also caused my Mum so many sleepless nights through the years. When she passed, I organised her funeral from afar with help from others in her community and we made sure she would have a proper grave and not be buried as a pauper.

That seems to be something I do, I care for the people who have wronged me. I am well aware of this now. I do not feel my Mum was in that category though, I feel she did the best she could for me in arduous circumstances. But my aunty and my dad specifically went out of their way to harm and damage me. They never picked on anyone their own size as the saying goes. They both chose to physically pick on a young weak little girl who could not fend for herself. My aunty raged at the baby I was, whilst my dad physically abused me from birth to my teenage years. That fills my mouth with vomit and my eyes with tears. Maybe they were both jealous of my Mum's love for me. Maybe that is what I did wrong. But you see, I did nothing wrong. I was just being me. I had been brought into this world. I did not have a choice in the matter.