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