I promised not to be like my parents! Never would I live my life like that! Never treat others that way, never raise my children that way, never treat my children that way! Never be like them in any way. But am I?
My mother would never confront someone about any wrong done her or someone she cares about, she never protected her children, only protecting herself by trying not to do what would push my dad's buttons, which, at times, could be breathing. She also did nothing to promote her own health or those around her.
Mother had a massive attraction to junk food, and it did comprise most of our diet. Many meals in the early years consisted of potted meat and crackers or chips and dip. On a rare occasion she would cook and something was always wrong with it. My diet was soft drinks, chips, dip, potted meat, crackers, candy, etc. and the occasional real meal which would typically involve a roast with potatoes and onions.
I am a junk food addict like my mother with a few exceptions. I have more availability. I have no one to hide from, no evidence to dispose of, no money to try to account for. I can eat as I want very easily. I do... to my detriment.
Another exception is that I KNOW about good nutrition, I KNOW how to attain optimum health. I find it so very hard to do.
My psychology is so wrapped up in feeling punished. Not being allowed to have "good" food while others enjoyed it, at times, starving. Food to me seems to be a series of punishment and reward. I feel punished and cheated in choosing water over soft drinks, I feel punished and cheated for having to have a side salad at McDonald's. I know where this comes from. The knowledge of how this has played out does not help me to overcome it.
I started today after having had one of the few dreams I ever have regarding my mother. I've had about three of these dreams, realistic dreams. It's the same scenario in every dream just a different setting and always involving tornadic activity. Each time she is completely helpless, tornadoes coming, children to be saved, adults needing direction, it's not a panic or chaotic situation. It's just a matter of myself, once again, having to take control of a situation in which she should have acted and did not.
My intent upon waking was to not drink any soft drink product until I had 2 bottled waters. I got past that one but my success in that area did not carry over. Thinking over the frustration of always being the one to have to take control in my birth family, pick up their pieces, threw me off focus just a bit. Lost my momentum with my food and now I've destroyed my health a bit more with the excess of junk I ingest.
It makes me worse, yes, as I know about nutrition, I know what I need to do, I do not do it! Each day that I bombard my body with junk I'm cutting out more and more of my health, vibrancy, longevity.
How do I stop? I want to stop! I want to drink water, get away from soft drink items, enjoy smoothies more than once or twice a week. I want to make good food choices while I'm out in a restaurant and feel good about it.
Lord help me as I surely do need it!
In summary, my mother lived a life of floating around in inaction, allowing the push of the world to jockey her around, never taking control of anything including her own life. She died of oral cancer that spread to her brain. She was a person who never in my lifetime brushed her teeth, they were black, broken, infected. She smoked, ate junk, sugar, anything bad for her. I believe fully that is how and why she got cancer. A mouth full of almost constant infection, smoking cigarettes, and placing toxic foods in her mouth. I know this, I've even had some success in the past regarding my own diet... But at this moment it just seems so unattainable!
Today, today I feel so lethargic and I know what it is! I got up, drank the 2 bottles of water, then got my glass full of Diet Mountain Dew. I did have 2 eggs fried in coconut oil but I've negated that pretty good! I've had crackers, cookie dough, cookies, bologna and white bread with mayo. I'm sure there are other things I've been eating today but can't even remember. I do most of it without even thinking of what I'm doing! Oh I ate sugared strawberries smothered in whipped topping... yes.... I did that too! Now I feel very poorly, tired, bloated, lethargic...
It is my own fault, I know what is right and I do not do it! No one controls my life unless I let them and I suspect I'm letting the past control my present... this needs to stop!
I have a beautiful growing family, I want to enjoy my grandchildren and watch them grow up, I want to enjoy watching my children attain successes in their adult lives... If I do not stop this destruction on my health I will not be able to see these things in my lifetime!
I raise poultry for eggs and meat, raised in a natural and healthy way, organic but can't claim it as such, I grow wonderful organically grown vegetables yet I will eat McDonald's, Taco Bell, Arby's and then I'm not at all hungry when it comes supper time. So the ingestion of these good veggies is slim for me.... I have been working on the smoothie thing...they are good, relatively quick... but for some reason I get stopped before I start them!
Like I mentioned above: Lord help me! As I surely need it!
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Living a life as if you have no children.....
How does that work? I have NOT figured that out! I have been attacked and punished by family members for not coddling our father and his wife, for not being active in their lives.... but there is something this particular family member just does not think about, want to think about..... that I spent a good bit of my life trying to build a relationship with both parents....and they did not respond nor did they reciprocate in this relationship. It was always one sided....
My father still had a young man in his care, a very troubled one.....but he went about his life as usual. The only person in his life was himself and his own selfish wants. He traveled, enjoyed, carried on as if he had no responsibility as a parent..... he left that to myself and later my sister. Our brother committed suicide in my parents home while dad was gone. Uncle Harold, you were right. Parents were to blame for the pain and struggling of this family.
As a parent I cannot fathom how one can have children and live as if they don't exist or at worst are a road block in the way of the living their life. I have 4 children and a growing batch of grandchildren. I cannot imagine doing this to my children.... I just can't...
Now I am not in constant contact with them, I do not pester and bother their lives. Last week I got on a bus and rode for 2 days so that I could spend a week with our oldest child and her family, which includes 2 of our granddaughters.
As I was riding on the bus last week I had more realizations that had I moved far away I would not have seen my parents. They would never have went to any effort whatsoever to see me....not that they were incapable of traveling...as it seemed really pretty easy to go to Arizona a fair bit and visit with my dad's brother.... but their children...no.... Maybe I should have...... I've often thought that I was not far enough away...I was close enough that it was expected of me to show up to their "showy" social crap..... if I had been far away..... I would have been totally cut off...I think that would have really slowed down the drama and stress of this family I was born in to...
I guess the bottom line here is that as I go through my life and do the things that I believe are right and good....Im finding that there are more and more problems that I had to endure as a child of abusive neglectful parents..... and I must get them out of my head.... although at times some of the things I write about could be construed as shallow and common...it's only a small part of a much bigger picture that I find difficult to express.... there was never a relationship between myself and either of my parents.... period... why should there be now???? I tried.... they didn't want it..... but I will never do that to my children.... yes I have my own life...but my children are still a part of our lives...
My father still had a young man in his care, a very troubled one.....but he went about his life as usual. The only person in his life was himself and his own selfish wants. He traveled, enjoyed, carried on as if he had no responsibility as a parent..... he left that to myself and later my sister. Our brother committed suicide in my parents home while dad was gone. Uncle Harold, you were right. Parents were to blame for the pain and struggling of this family.
As a parent I cannot fathom how one can have children and live as if they don't exist or at worst are a road block in the way of the living their life. I have 4 children and a growing batch of grandchildren. I cannot imagine doing this to my children.... I just can't...
Now I am not in constant contact with them, I do not pester and bother their lives. Last week I got on a bus and rode for 2 days so that I could spend a week with our oldest child and her family, which includes 2 of our granddaughters.
As I was riding on the bus last week I had more realizations that had I moved far away I would not have seen my parents. They would never have went to any effort whatsoever to see me....not that they were incapable of traveling...as it seemed really pretty easy to go to Arizona a fair bit and visit with my dad's brother.... but their children...no.... Maybe I should have...... I've often thought that I was not far enough away...I was close enough that it was expected of me to show up to their "showy" social crap..... if I had been far away..... I would have been totally cut off...I think that would have really slowed down the drama and stress of this family I was born in to...
I guess the bottom line here is that as I go through my life and do the things that I believe are right and good....Im finding that there are more and more problems that I had to endure as a child of abusive neglectful parents..... and I must get them out of my head.... although at times some of the things I write about could be construed as shallow and common...it's only a small part of a much bigger picture that I find difficult to express.... there was never a relationship between myself and either of my parents.... period... why should there be now???? I tried.... they didn't want it..... but I will never do that to my children.... yes I have my own life...but my children are still a part of our lives...
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
How could you?
Being a mother I cannot imagine behaving as my mother did. I cannot imagine allowing someone to starve my children, beat them, terrorize them. I cannot fathom allowing such a thing to happen to my children. My mother, however, just sat by and let them happen. Not once in my life did she ever try to protect me from any of it. I realize she was likely in a "survival" mode of her own. But how do you allow ANYONE, husband or otherwise, to harm your child and just sit idly by. This also wasn't the only thing she did...she "threw me under the bus" many times over in later years....... Still trying to process some of that!
In the very early years, mostly my memories from living in Rockford, IL, were fond ones of her. I remember her picking me up to watch the rain and hail, telling me to eat the tomatoes in my soup last as they were the hottest, letting me play and learn to tie with the strings on the ironing board. She would bath me down with baking soda water when I was sick and give me a big ole glass of cold pepsi, which she said made everything better.... well... as I've learned it don't make my massive intestinal destruction better!
While I had those memories...there were others. My very first memory of my dad was when he was sitting in a chair, up close to a small black and white tv, smoking a cigarette and drinking beer. I tried to climb on his lap like any little girl likes to do with their daddy. Instead of being welcomed...this is the treatment I received.... "get the fuck away from me" while taking his arm, swinging it out, and flinging me backwards with it. Causing me to fall on the floor, slide and hit the front of the couch. My mother was home, nothing was said, nothing was done. I just got up and sat on the couch... that was it. This was just the beginning of my memories of this sort of thing.
One of the things that has really opened up to me as an adult the actions my mother had or rather did not have as a parent...and the recognition of that...
I recently have come to a realization of just what was happening...that I had not put together before...
We moved back to Indiana when I was 4 and this is when things began to get worse. My mother went to work when we moved back to Indiana and I went to a babysitter... Eloise Jones was her name I believe... she lived just down the block from my paternal grandmother. Frequently my grandmother would pick me up from there...and at some point I would end up home....
There were, however, frequent problems between my dad and my grandmother (his mother) and my mom... nasty fights, hatred spewing... not nice.
So... my parents decided, like many other parents, to arrange the work schedule so that they did not need a sitter, paid or related.
My life definitely changed at that point. My mother would be gone by around 5am... I know this as this was her schedule she kept for all of her working years. She left that house without making any arrangements for her child, no food, no clothing, nothing.... and she left me with a known abuser who didn't want to get out of bed til noon or after and didn't want anyone around him when he did. Thus the "fun" began.
Waking up hungry, early in the morning, knowing not to wake up my dad, I would walk across filthy, cock roach ridden floors, trying to get to the kitchen to hunt something up. Because there never was any grocery shopping that took place, there generally was not much food around. I remember many times getting a chair, climbing up on the counter to see if the cereal box had anything in it. Sometimes it did, sometimes it was buggy, sometimes it was stale. Never any milk that was good, so I frequently had nasty cereal with water or nothing. Many times I just went hungry. My dad would get up around noon or so and be hateful that I even existed in his universe... but I was hungry.... I wanted food... so what did he do? He would burn butter beans, put massive amounts of hot peppers in them.... then laugh while I cried trying to eat them.... then vomit...
He has hit me because I put to much of something on my plate than he thought I should have... been hit and thrown across the room for such things. I've been threatened with death, insane asylums, beaten on a regular basis for just existing... and not ONE time, ever in my life did my mother even attempt to defend or protect me... Never...she just sat by and let it happen....
How does a mother do that??? It happened, I know it happened...
Then I got older.... and the game changed! Oh yes...she threw me under the bus... I have yet to figure out exactly why this phenomenon occurred but it surely did! By this time I was in high school...we had moved.... and life with them had morphed yet again.
My dad worked shift work as long as he worked with that company and that meant 4 nights, 2 days, 2 days off. On his 4 evening shifts, mom would get home right before he left, I would get home after he left. In that time he was home he would have been bitching her out about the filthy house.... he also gave her instructions of what he wanted done before he got home at midnight. When I would get home from school she would ask me to do things for her, which would be the items he had demanded she have done! Ok, fine, whatever. I was helpful and obedient in at least those areas... can't say all areas.... but I did help or rather do most of the household chores. So.. I did them and went on my way.... Well, as was the normal pattern of my father, he would call upwards of 30 times a shift... I'm not exaggerating, actually could be underestimating a bit... his first call of an evening.... he would ask mom if she did what he told her to... and this was her tale.... Wayne, I've been up since 4 o'clock, my feet hurt, my back hurts, I told Janice to do it but she wouldn't do it. WHAT?????? So he of course wants to talk to me.... starts yelling and screaming and spewing in the phone.... telling me what a lazy bitch I am to not help my hard working mother.... I try to tell him...but it's already done and I DID IT.... which then means my mother is lying....oh so that's the second whammy! So I said I don't care she asked I did it...she's lying.... and his words to me were: "DON'T YOU EVER CALL YOUR MOTHER A LIAR" Ok..whatever! He then would inform me that I had a price to pay when he got home.... at this point most of those were empty threats...
I have yet to figure out exactly what she thought she gained from this game....she did that a good bit....
When dad came home he rarely ever carried out a physically violent threat... but I can tell you that it didn't matter what time it was, who was there, or the fact that sleeping people were in the house.... he had a grand entrance..... He would open the door, every light in the house would be flipped on while he was yelling like a nut... he was slamming things, opening closing things, turning his tv up about as loud as it would go.... and he kept it that way all night long....
This was the way that part of life was... this is very hard to pick apart as there are so many twists and tangles in all this.... but the fact remains that my own mother not only did not protect me from a violent, seemingly mentally ill abuser, but she also set me up to have more of the same.... How does this happen??? (rhetorical of course)
In the very early years, mostly my memories from living in Rockford, IL, were fond ones of her. I remember her picking me up to watch the rain and hail, telling me to eat the tomatoes in my soup last as they were the hottest, letting me play and learn to tie with the strings on the ironing board. She would bath me down with baking soda water when I was sick and give me a big ole glass of cold pepsi, which she said made everything better.... well... as I've learned it don't make my massive intestinal destruction better!
While I had those memories...there were others. My very first memory of my dad was when he was sitting in a chair, up close to a small black and white tv, smoking a cigarette and drinking beer. I tried to climb on his lap like any little girl likes to do with their daddy. Instead of being welcomed...this is the treatment I received.... "get the fuck away from me" while taking his arm, swinging it out, and flinging me backwards with it. Causing me to fall on the floor, slide and hit the front of the couch. My mother was home, nothing was said, nothing was done. I just got up and sat on the couch... that was it. This was just the beginning of my memories of this sort of thing.
One of the things that has really opened up to me as an adult the actions my mother had or rather did not have as a parent...and the recognition of that...
I recently have come to a realization of just what was happening...that I had not put together before...
We moved back to Indiana when I was 4 and this is when things began to get worse. My mother went to work when we moved back to Indiana and I went to a babysitter... Eloise Jones was her name I believe... she lived just down the block from my paternal grandmother. Frequently my grandmother would pick me up from there...and at some point I would end up home....
There were, however, frequent problems between my dad and my grandmother (his mother) and my mom... nasty fights, hatred spewing... not nice.
So... my parents decided, like many other parents, to arrange the work schedule so that they did not need a sitter, paid or related.
My life definitely changed at that point. My mother would be gone by around 5am... I know this as this was her schedule she kept for all of her working years. She left that house without making any arrangements for her child, no food, no clothing, nothing.... and she left me with a known abuser who didn't want to get out of bed til noon or after and didn't want anyone around him when he did. Thus the "fun" began.
Waking up hungry, early in the morning, knowing not to wake up my dad, I would walk across filthy, cock roach ridden floors, trying to get to the kitchen to hunt something up. Because there never was any grocery shopping that took place, there generally was not much food around. I remember many times getting a chair, climbing up on the counter to see if the cereal box had anything in it. Sometimes it did, sometimes it was buggy, sometimes it was stale. Never any milk that was good, so I frequently had nasty cereal with water or nothing. Many times I just went hungry. My dad would get up around noon or so and be hateful that I even existed in his universe... but I was hungry.... I wanted food... so what did he do? He would burn butter beans, put massive amounts of hot peppers in them.... then laugh while I cried trying to eat them.... then vomit...
He has hit me because I put to much of something on my plate than he thought I should have... been hit and thrown across the room for such things. I've been threatened with death, insane asylums, beaten on a regular basis for just existing... and not ONE time, ever in my life did my mother even attempt to defend or protect me... Never...she just sat by and let it happen....
How does a mother do that??? It happened, I know it happened...
Then I got older.... and the game changed! Oh yes...she threw me under the bus... I have yet to figure out exactly why this phenomenon occurred but it surely did! By this time I was in high school...we had moved.... and life with them had morphed yet again.
My dad worked shift work as long as he worked with that company and that meant 4 nights, 2 days, 2 days off. On his 4 evening shifts, mom would get home right before he left, I would get home after he left. In that time he was home he would have been bitching her out about the filthy house.... he also gave her instructions of what he wanted done before he got home at midnight. When I would get home from school she would ask me to do things for her, which would be the items he had demanded she have done! Ok, fine, whatever. I was helpful and obedient in at least those areas... can't say all areas.... but I did help or rather do most of the household chores. So.. I did them and went on my way.... Well, as was the normal pattern of my father, he would call upwards of 30 times a shift... I'm not exaggerating, actually could be underestimating a bit... his first call of an evening.... he would ask mom if she did what he told her to... and this was her tale.... Wayne, I've been up since 4 o'clock, my feet hurt, my back hurts, I told Janice to do it but she wouldn't do it. WHAT?????? So he of course wants to talk to me.... starts yelling and screaming and spewing in the phone.... telling me what a lazy bitch I am to not help my hard working mother.... I try to tell him...but it's already done and I DID IT.... which then means my mother is lying....oh so that's the second whammy! So I said I don't care she asked I did it...she's lying.... and his words to me were: "DON'T YOU EVER CALL YOUR MOTHER A LIAR" Ok..whatever! He then would inform me that I had a price to pay when he got home.... at this point most of those were empty threats...
I have yet to figure out exactly what she thought she gained from this game....she did that a good bit....
When dad came home he rarely ever carried out a physically violent threat... but I can tell you that it didn't matter what time it was, who was there, or the fact that sleeping people were in the house.... he had a grand entrance..... He would open the door, every light in the house would be flipped on while he was yelling like a nut... he was slamming things, opening closing things, turning his tv up about as loud as it would go.... and he kept it that way all night long....
This was the way that part of life was... this is very hard to pick apart as there are so many twists and tangles in all this.... but the fact remains that my own mother not only did not protect me from a violent, seemingly mentally ill abuser, but she also set me up to have more of the same.... How does this happen??? (rhetorical of course)
Monday, February 20, 2012
A Marking in Time.....
This past weekend, Feb. 18th, marks the anniversary of my mother's death. I think, probably the most traumatic part of all of that was that when a dysfunctional family comes upon crisis they become shockingly dysfunctional. When a family does not possess the ability to function under normal conditions, crisis presents a disaster.
I cannot post that I miss her, I cannot say that I miss talking to her. I did not have a relationship with her in that manner. It was mostly one sided, as are all my family relationships. In my writings I will try to explain my mother, not for this day however.
She died Feb. 18th, 1995. Cancer..... I went to see her many many times. Including the times I took two days away from my husband and children to stay with her in the hospital during chemotherapy treatments. The one thing that sticks out the very most to me is that upon entering her hospital room her first words, without fail, were: "Where's Becky?".... Never did I receive a hello, hi, how are ya, how are the kids.... nope... asking for my sister were the first words out of her mouth.... Second thing was asking me to go find her some spray RightGuard. She didn't care much about her not smelling but she used it in the bathroom to smoke.... she somehow believed that the RightGuard spray masked her smoking. It didn't......
It's a twisted thing I suppose.
More on this later.... but she has been gone for a lot of years now... I don't feel that I missed something I didn't have...I didn't long for a "mother"..... it was just as it was.... and I improvised....
More for another day.....
I cannot post that I miss her, I cannot say that I miss talking to her. I did not have a relationship with her in that manner. It was mostly one sided, as are all my family relationships. In my writings I will try to explain my mother, not for this day however.
She died Feb. 18th, 1995. Cancer..... I went to see her many many times. Including the times I took two days away from my husband and children to stay with her in the hospital during chemotherapy treatments. The one thing that sticks out the very most to me is that upon entering her hospital room her first words, without fail, were: "Where's Becky?".... Never did I receive a hello, hi, how are ya, how are the kids.... nope... asking for my sister were the first words out of her mouth.... Second thing was asking me to go find her some spray RightGuard. She didn't care much about her not smelling but she used it in the bathroom to smoke.... she somehow believed that the RightGuard spray masked her smoking. It didn't......
It's a twisted thing I suppose.
More on this later.... but she has been gone for a lot of years now... I don't feel that I missed something I didn't have...I didn't long for a "mother"..... it was just as it was.... and I improvised....
More for another day.....
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Bright spots in an otherwise dark life.....
Every child typically has two sets of Grandparents. One set seem to always be the primary set. In my case, my father's parents were the primary. That is very unfortunate as that placed me in chaos and misery much of my life. I did get to spend some time with my Mother's parents. Those times and the heritage they afford brought bright spots to my life then and still do to this day!
My Mother's parents lived on a farm in Knox Co. and my mother and I visited them rarely. Those rare visits were treasures to me. Many have said bad things about my Grandfather but my personal experience did not reflect that.
Visiting them was like a beautiful breathe of fresh air. It always felt like a safe place. My Grandmother was a calm woman with a fantastic sense of humor, she was an excellent cook, a caring woman with a very nurturing spirit about her.
My Grandfather Tolliver was a very quiet man who spent a good bit of time sitting under the shade tree whittling. I remember so many times sitting in front of him enthralled with his whittling. He would take acorns and make me "cups and saucers" from them.... He also would keep my easter baskets, hung on a nail by the back door, we would use those to collect eggs when I came to visit.
My Grandmother would take me to the garden with her, telling me all about her vegetables and what to do with them. She would take me with her to the basement where I was fascinated by the shelves lined with canning jars of all sizes and shapes.
They were gentle, calm, loving, teaching, nurturing and I loved spending time with them.
Family dinners there were times to cherish. My grandmother's specialty was her cornbread, which was made in a cast iron skillet on top of the stove, and she flipped it... I mean really flipped it, right out of the pan, it turned in the air and landed in her skillet right where it belonged! I wish I could do that! :-) It had a wonderful taste, not sweet like many have become accustomed to. Always had green beans, she had special green beans, not sure how to spell the type "Roddy Kirby" is how you say it, not sure how it is spelled. They were flat beans and were oh so good. My uncles and aunts would come, cousins, some of my Grandmothers sisters. It was fun, lots of laughter, plenty of playtime with cousins, and good food. Very bright spots in my world
My time there was very little as they were not very fond of my father and to my father that made them an enemy. He did not like for us to visit them.
My Grandfather Tolliver passed away in the fall of 1972. At this point my Grandmother moved to town. That is when I became very acquainted with her and I treasure those times. I spent every other weekend with her, sometimes my cousin stayed too. It was always fun and pleasant.
Breakfast always included Jimmy Dean sausage with bread and chocolate milk... I still love to have those sandwiches.... takes me right back. Lunches generally consisted of a salad with her homemade dressing and rice with milk and raisins. At dinner time she would teach me how to cook a few simple things, grilled cheese was one I tried a good bit!
Now Grandma Tolliver was a woman who dressed nicely, matching, always looking nice. She always had matching earrings and necklace that matched her dress for the day! She only wore pants ONCE in her 95 years. She would walk to get her hair done once a week and had a regular appointment with a podiatrist. I always thought that odd but to her feet were a very important thing to take care of. Might be good advice as she lived to be 95 and had almost no illness or need for much medical care in her entire life. Maybe I should pay more attention to my feet??
I remember my amazement at her ability to make a grocery list and know before she ever left the approximate cost of every item and she was very good at it. I have adopted that technique myself. I can estimate cost of groceries just like that.
In summary, both sides of my family, maternal and paternal are polar opposites. My experiences with my Grandpa and Grandma Tolliver have stuck with me in such a positive way. Not sure how much they knew or if they sensed what a bright spot they were to me.
My Grandmother passed away in 1991.... In 1990, we had our last baby... and we named her after my Grandmother Tolliver. Hannah Zoe Walls Tolliver our youngest daughter is Hannah Ellen. What an honor to be named after someone so special.
My Mother's parents lived on a farm in Knox Co. and my mother and I visited them rarely. Those rare visits were treasures to me. Many have said bad things about my Grandfather but my personal experience did not reflect that.
Visiting them was like a beautiful breathe of fresh air. It always felt like a safe place. My Grandmother was a calm woman with a fantastic sense of humor, she was an excellent cook, a caring woman with a very nurturing spirit about her.
My Grandfather Tolliver was a very quiet man who spent a good bit of time sitting under the shade tree whittling. I remember so many times sitting in front of him enthralled with his whittling. He would take acorns and make me "cups and saucers" from them.... He also would keep my easter baskets, hung on a nail by the back door, we would use those to collect eggs when I came to visit.
My Grandmother would take me to the garden with her, telling me all about her vegetables and what to do with them. She would take me with her to the basement where I was fascinated by the shelves lined with canning jars of all sizes and shapes.
They were gentle, calm, loving, teaching, nurturing and I loved spending time with them.
Family dinners there were times to cherish. My grandmother's specialty was her cornbread, which was made in a cast iron skillet on top of the stove, and she flipped it... I mean really flipped it, right out of the pan, it turned in the air and landed in her skillet right where it belonged! I wish I could do that! :-) It had a wonderful taste, not sweet like many have become accustomed to. Always had green beans, she had special green beans, not sure how to spell the type "Roddy Kirby" is how you say it, not sure how it is spelled. They were flat beans and were oh so good. My uncles and aunts would come, cousins, some of my Grandmothers sisters. It was fun, lots of laughter, plenty of playtime with cousins, and good food. Very bright spots in my world
My time there was very little as they were not very fond of my father and to my father that made them an enemy. He did not like for us to visit them.
My Grandfather Tolliver passed away in the fall of 1972. At this point my Grandmother moved to town. That is when I became very acquainted with her and I treasure those times. I spent every other weekend with her, sometimes my cousin stayed too. It was always fun and pleasant.
Breakfast always included Jimmy Dean sausage with bread and chocolate milk... I still love to have those sandwiches.... takes me right back. Lunches generally consisted of a salad with her homemade dressing and rice with milk and raisins. At dinner time she would teach me how to cook a few simple things, grilled cheese was one I tried a good bit!
Now Grandma Tolliver was a woman who dressed nicely, matching, always looking nice. She always had matching earrings and necklace that matched her dress for the day! She only wore pants ONCE in her 95 years. She would walk to get her hair done once a week and had a regular appointment with a podiatrist. I always thought that odd but to her feet were a very important thing to take care of. Might be good advice as she lived to be 95 and had almost no illness or need for much medical care in her entire life. Maybe I should pay more attention to my feet??
I remember my amazement at her ability to make a grocery list and know before she ever left the approximate cost of every item and she was very good at it. I have adopted that technique myself. I can estimate cost of groceries just like that.
In summary, both sides of my family, maternal and paternal are polar opposites. My experiences with my Grandpa and Grandma Tolliver have stuck with me in such a positive way. Not sure how much they knew or if they sensed what a bright spot they were to me.
My Grandmother passed away in 1991.... In 1990, we had our last baby... and we named her after my Grandmother Tolliver. Hannah Zoe Walls Tolliver our youngest daughter is Hannah Ellen. What an honor to be named after someone so special.
What does a family look like, really?
On Facebook I see so many "sharing" sorts of items in regards to different family members, or someone in heaven you miss and long for. I don't post those as I have no such connection. Are there people who have passed on that I miss? Yes, there are but very few are family members. Yes, I know that sounds sad but as I build this blog I hope I can explain why that is. I'm so very tired of being misunderstood and even vilified by some.
Our society has a collective definition of sorts as to what Grandmothers, Grandfathers, Mothers, and Fathers are supposed to be. Siblings are included to some extent. While we know that not all families and their members fit the definition, we like to pretend it is that way, feels better when we do. Most visualize a Grandma either knitting in her rocking chair, baking cookies, rocking grandchildren, a happy woman, mature and settled in life, ready to enjoy this new season in life. Grandfathers fit in with the Father visual very well. Both are characterized as the ones to go fishing, camping, playing ball. Mothers, oh mothers, are special creatures. Nurturing their own, possibly even caring for others. Protecting, caring, nurturing, sacrificing for their children individually and their family collectively. No one in my immediate family nor in my paternal side fit any of these societal definitions. Thank God, and I mean that, my maternal Grandparents not only fit those definitions but come from a long line of God-fearing, caring, sharing people. They took their Bible's and their God seriously, and it shown very bright in their lives. I had very limited exposure to that part of my family.
I have been faced with something I had purposefully tried to avoid and I have failed in that. I carried out actions with my family to build a relationship with them. I told my husband that no one was going to be able to say that I didn't put my best foot forward. It is not my fault that they did not care to reciprocate. It appears that I am indeed being told that I have not put my best foot forward. I am not behaving in a way that others think I should and thus I am being "punished". I had settled with my family issues and had put that in my past, dealing with whatever became necessary. With this addition of behavior from another family member it has brought it all to the forefront. Now I feel the need to write it all out. To share my past, family, hurts, pains, survival. I will be writing in this blog on occasion, trying to keep a cohesive tale. I think some of it will become hard to define in a cohesive manner as most of it deals in this families mental illness that is denied. Creating their own alternate universe where fact and truth do not reside and delusion runs rampant.
Thank you for listening to my rattlings!
A new blog...
I am switching blogs and will copy/paste what I started on the other blog. Truth, to me is such a precious fragile thing. I must strengthen it by sharing it. I feel that if I don't it might disappear completely and I'll become victim to the delusion. Hopefully over time, anyone that reads this, can understand exactly what I mean by that!
Don't have a clue as to whether anyone will bother to read any of this, but I will have shared my life, my heart, my pain, the truth of it.
Don't have a clue as to whether anyone will bother to read any of this, but I will have shared my life, my heart, my pain, the truth of it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)