What's so bad about being passive-aggressive anyway!?

So I started week 2 of Crazy Camp on Monday. I was very tired even though I was asleep the night before at 9:30pm and didn't get up until 7:30am.

The kids were back from the cottage with Dad; they were full of exciting stories to tell me. I was especially happy to see my daughter as she has never been away from Mama for this long. Funny, I usually miss my son when he is away but this time I worried more about her and how she was handling the separation from me. She appears to be very strong, but I know better. She's a marshmallow inside and I know how fearful of new situations she really is, much like I was at her age.

So, back to Monday morning. I was afraid of being locked out of the room for being late. You see, that's one thing they insist upon, punctuality. Something I have not been overly great at for the last 2 years. Being consumed with sorrow tends to do that to you. So I started off the morning up and at it, like I had been all of my week one. It was much easier when there wasn't as much to worry about first thing in the morning. Monday was different however, I had those 2 extra bodies to ensure got to camps on time with the proper forms and lunches and swim suits and bags, etc....We made it and with plenty of time to spare, which was very surprising to me, as well as delightful.
We had group therapy which I don't overly enjoy, however it was doable this time. I still didn't share however I offered insight to some when I was called upon.
Overall the day was pretty good and I looked forward to Tuesday.
So here we are, Tuesday, Family Support Day at camp. I brought my stepmother who very graciously accepted and attended. I was very nervous having her there. I was terrified of being judged even though I know she isn't like that. I didn't participate in the group other than introduction and wrap up. There were simply so many other people who wanted the floor and I didn't really want the attention. I think that's why I don't like the group therapy session. I feel like I am being judged and contrary to popular belief, I absolutely do not like attention, negative or positive.

I am guessing that years of walking on egg shells where my mother was concerned is the reason for that. It was simply so much easier to live if I wasn't noticed by her. I just never knew from one day to the next, hell one minute to the next, whether she was going to love me or loathe me. Being a chameleon is what I learned to do best at a very young age, and it has long since served me well.

At one point today, in one of our Coping Skills workshops, we were learning about assertive communication. This brought up passive style, aggressive style, passive-aggressive style as well as assertive. Apparently we are all supposed to strive to be assertive. I am not so sure about that. I remember being told last year by a boyfriend that I was passive-aggressive like it was a bad thing. I immediately got defensive, then went on the internet in search of what it really meant to be passive-aggressive. I was surprised to find that he was right and I was very much a passive aggressive communicator when it came to him. I have been looking at that trend and realize that I am this way with what would appear to be my more intimate relationships. When I looked at the reasons for why most people are passive- aggressive I figured out that it was no wonder I was. Never having been validated for much of anything as a child and never having been said yes to much, I learned that the only way to get my needs met was to be sneaky about it. I have since been more aware of this behaviour and try very much to curb it. I have a very high success rate when it comes to my children as well as some of my family members. I know for sure it will never go away where my mother is concerned, nor do I want it to, I don't think.

Anyway, I guess I am done for today, I have scheduled blog time which I am trying to follow. The program has us on as strict of a schedule / routine as we can follow. I really like that part of the program. I guess it's like kids; we all function better with a routine.

Bye for now,
Broken Annie

Cat Humour that will simply get your motor purring!

I was blog surfing if that is even a word / verb and I came across this funny video involving a cat....Simon's cat.
Talk about a stress releaser!
Many Thanks to it's creator, much appreciated!!!!

So this is Blogging?!

So I have started this new 'phase' in my life, and I have called it "Operation Get Better". It's a weird one, because I know in my heart and in my head that something is wrong with me, but I am caught in this place, of total fear....I have been so great at being 'normal' for so much of my life that I have lost what I am actually feeling. Oh sure I feel sad or angry at any given time, but in an overall sense of life, I can't really say for certain that I actually FEEL anything. I know I am not overly happy, I know I am not overly angry, or sad, I think I AM. I simply exist from day to day, doing the best I can with what little tools my parents gave me to cope in a world that has so many day to day stresses.

I have been asked to attend this hospitalization program at my local hospital; it's really a outpatient service that offers group therapy as well as insight on coping skills and physiological things that contribute to our overall wellness, like diet, sleep, organizational skills, etc.

Stepping out of the elavator that first day was terrifying. With no idea of what to expect, I turned the corner to what seemed like the largest set of doors at the time. I had to read a myriad of signs in order to figure out that I was simply supposed to press a button and someone would unlock the doors. I really didn't know what to feel, my heart was racing as I walked through the doors to the room I was now going to sit in for the next several weeks of my life.
I entered the room to what appeared to be 2 normal women, one with a physical disability and one without. They welcomed me and offered some idle chit chat to make me feel comfortable.
That first day was a bit overwhelming insomuch as getting used to being on a "psych" ward and learning a bit about the people I was in this group with. Some cried all day, some slept in their place, some were very happy and chatty as others were quiet and listened. I wasn't so sure where I'd fit into the picture.

As the week went on I started to get tired, listening to these people who had such desperate lives by comparison to mine, most were suicidal or seriously depressed at this time, others simply wanted to talk and share. My problems seem insignificant by comparison. I don't want to come off to these people that I don't need the help, but I also don't want to come across as being as screwed up as them either. I really can't relate to any of them yet and that worries me, as I know the main component to group therapy is being able to relate. Most individuals in my group have a bi polar diagnosis and that is not what I have. they are able to feel, BIG TIME, and I simply can't. That's a huge difference. They have manic phases in their lives, I don't. They must be medicated for the rest of their lives, I will not.

The one thing I did notice that almost everyone in there shared, was their intellect. Most seemed highly intelligent, and only a few didn't. As well, most are completely unemployed and have been for years. They are all lower income than I am, except for one, who I would probably put in the same tax bracket, perhaps. She works for the gov't as well but is on disability leave right now.
I am the only one that is currently working, and working while doing the program.

Last night I went out to a family gathering and was speaking with my 'father' about the program. It made me very much uneasy, as he belittled my attendance stating that I wasn't the same as them. That I was in a different class and will find out that there is nothing wrong with me. That's when I realized just how good I have become at being 'normal'. He immediately blamed my mother for this 'phase' in my life. And although I suffered many years or mental and physical abuse at her hands, I found myself very quick to come to her defense. I told him that she wasn't the only one to blame and that if he had though twice about procreating with such a damaged women, I may not be in the place I was. I said it in my typical sarcastic, joking self, but I really meant every word I said.

Why would people that know they are damaged or with someone who is damaged allow themselves to bring children into this world without making a commitment to end the cycle? I simply don't understand this. Why would anyone that knew a child was in physical and mental danger allow them to continue to parent? I really wish I knew how 2 men that married my mother, could allow her to torment and abuse her children the way she did. In my mind they are guilty of the years of abuse we endured. And in my mind, they are all equally to blame for my brother's death.

The paradox is that I care for every one of them and perhaps even feel sorry for every one of them. They too did the best they could with the tools they were given to make it through life as they knew it. But where does that leave me, the last of the abused? Will I self destruct much like my brother or will I simply continue to BE?
I do know one thing, no matter how numb I am in my own skin, I will make damn sure I stop that cycle for my kids. They deserve so much better.