Nothing says loving like being made to feel that I am good for nothing but what I can do or provide for someone. It’s just delightful. I am the one that everyone turns to when they want or need something, but the moment I have something going on, it is perfectly clear that I am total burden, imposing upon their precious time spent doing completely inconsequential things. Sometimes it feels like I am invisible, until someone wants me to do something for them. And when I am stupid enough to point it out, to say something, I am asked why I am “in a mood”? Really? Because I am sick of being ignored and dismissed and disrespected and dare to say something, I’m “in a mood”? Really?
I absolutely love when I try to talk to someone about something that is important to me or that is bothering me (not even anything to do with the person I am talking to) and they can’t even tear their eyes away from their book/xBox/Wii/computer/TV long enough to even acknowledge that I am speaking, much less actually listen. I am a big believer in that if you love someone, what is important to them should matter to you, even if you don’t understand or care a damn about it. I spend 90% of my life alone, doing nothing but taking care of other people, being there for my family. Sometimes I could use someone to talk to, some to actually listen to what I have to say. Not someone to ignore me, make it obvious they don’t give a shit, dismiss me and my feelings. But, no. That’s not how it is. My role is to be there for everyone without question (which is fine) and to take what I am given and be quiet and unassuming (which is not fine). Basically, I am supposed to keep my mouth shut, say nothing, and take it without argument.
I made a big speech on New Year’s Eve about just this kind of thing. That I expected this family to act like a family, to be kinder to one another, to appreciate one another. To listen, really listen to each other. To be mindful of how they treat one another. I made a point out of telling them that I was not their servant, not their doormat. And, once again, I got all the pretty words and assurances that things would change. Pretty words that have absolutely no depth and meaning or sincerity to them. Pretty words that hurt all that much more because they are meaningless, said to appease and to shut me up, not because people meant them.
I have to repeat myself about 90 times, even for the simplest of things. Some of that comes hand in hand with children; I get that and I accept that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to correct it. But how I am supposed to be successful with that if the one that is the worst offender is their father? I am the lone woman in a house of men/boys and it is not a very great place to be sometimes.
So 2011 has started and I feel as alone as I ever have.