I don't know. Maybe I'm just depressed. When one's own mother tells you to "find a nice clean restroom to sleep in," I think that's cause for depression.
I was thinking again, "Hmmm. Maybe this is why I don't understand the Mary Mother" thing very well.
I see Mary, hands extended, saying "My compassionate heart asks you to find a nice clean restroom to sleep in."
It's worse when ones own parents claim they want you to be with your son and then you keep wanting to believe this, against all evidence, and then just realize, it's all a lie. They wanted me to adopt my son out from the start because they don't believe in single women being mothers, period.
The only time they began to be somewhat supportive was when they thought I was getting married.
I have no idea why the threshhold of belief is so low, and always has been, for my parents. They didn't believe I got along with all my classmates when I didn't get along with them at home in high school, and only after I was Homecoming Queen did they begin to treat me with more respect, I guess, because they thought if others liked me, huh, they looked at me differently for once. Then, they never believed a monk could have been romantically interested in me at one point. They didn't believe anyone was ever purposefully vandalizing my property repeatedly, even though there was evidence. They didn't believe I was actually injured in childbirth. They didn't even believe I was held hostage, and if I hadn't had two other roommates who were telling them it was the truth, I don't think they would have ever believed it. They didn't believe in my going to college, and told me from age 16 to just get married.
I can remember one time I felt somewhat supported, and my father told me to do well a particular college term, for him if nothing else. So for once, I had someone backing me and I actually got the highest grades I'd ever received, against the odds, while taking an overload of courses, working PT, and handling a lot of other things at the same time.
There is no way anyone will ever convince me that my parents ever wanted me to have my son, stay with my son, or that they support his being with me in any way.
When times are worst, they are invisible and not even there. It's like the "bad weather disappearing act." If the sun is shining, everyone is out to be supportive. If it's not, everything is my fault, and they disappear.
My brother doesn't have it any better, however he's not had near the number of physical or medical set backs that I've had, which has kept me out of college some of the time, and out of work the rest of the time. They don't even seem to be able to process this. They've been healthy most of their lives, so they don't understand injury, pain, or disability. Even when I needed help after childbirth, an actual Doctor at CWH spoke up for me and reprimanded my parents saying, "that's what family is for."
Well, some families "get it" and others don't.
Now, the Big Blame is that I was kicked out Haven of Harpies. I told them why, and they don't believe it, just like they never believe anything.
They think it's because I must have been disruptive or talking badly about others but I wasn't. I was fairly quiet, polite, and courteous and never started anything. The "reason" I was kicked out was because I was supposedly "pacing back and forth at night" and some gang women lied to say I was "scaring them" when I wasn't even doing this. That, combined with the director's connection to my former housemate, didn't help.
It's very depressing. If one thing might depress me more than anything, it would be my "family". Even Alvaro didn't fully believe it, until he saw for himself. Others always think it's impossible that any family would really be this way, or they think I haven't tried. Every time I try, I am disappointed.
When I've been the one with money, I have been extremely generous and liberal, offering my own parents loans in excess of thousands. I didn't have to do it, but I did. I am certaintly not responsible for "taking care of" my parents finances, but at times when I had more than they did, I gave out of my heart. In return, if I'm down on luck, and even if it's not my fault, it's like pulling teeth to get any help or support at all--emotional or otherwise.
Like pulling teeth. One would think they have NO teeth left, and that I've left them gummy and in need of dentures. One very small token will be replayed and replayed on my memory forever as if that was enough and the buck stops here. The "buck" never "stopped here" with me. If I was able to help, I always WANTED to, out of my heart, and I did.
I still do this, even when I don't have very much. Someone bought me a pack of cigarettes the other day and I gave at least half of them away. I enjoy being able to give, even small things.
Some people are exactly the opposite. Giving is like tearing their heart out. It's the begrudging dispensation of an artery. It's like an insult, for some, to even be asked. I don't get it. I spend from my top dollar, on my son, and I would do this until he was 77. I would do anything for my son, and I want to do what I can. I put others' needs before my own at times too, when maybe I shouldn't. I do care.
Having someone say they're "praying" for me is like having someone say "thanks" and walk away. Words are cheap. Words are freely given and they don't cost anything. Some people have a difficult time with words, and that's a different problem. Some families or people in some relationships don't get to hear "I love you" very much and they need to hear that. The other person thinks their actions are demonstrating how much they love the other, but sometimes people need to hear "I love you".
"I love you" is meaningless though, and empty, when there is no evidence in action to support those words.
Faith without works is dead. Sorry, but faith is good, and prayer is great, but without anything to show for it, it seems, to me, to be like a withering tree without any fruit.
Which makes me think about Veterans for some reason. After people do so much to serve their country, or any group really, I think these people should be properly thanked and supported. They shouldn't have to fight for medical coverage for illness or injuries from war, and they shouldn't be stigmatized for PTSD or anything else and they should be given proper support for re-entry into civilian life so they can pick up with other work and support their families with housing.
I almost thought about joining the ROTC the other day, because I would do weekend work, but I am not in a position to leave my son and go through boot camp. I would do it, if I wasn't interested in visiting my son, but my son is a priority.
Yeah, even with zero public representation. I asked for a public defender and don't even have one, still, and that is supposedly all my fault too, even if it was not. No one wants to hear the whole story in court. They just want to say what they think, always, and then cut me off before I can give an explanation or justify what has happened and how I still deserve public defense and why it didn't work in the past. There were legitimate reasons why it didn't work in the past.
I just see all of this going to appeal and trial. Which wouldn't be fun for anyone, because then I dig out all the evidence which shows my son was improperly taken to begin with.
I took some photos last night, for a photo spoof on me as a nurse. Going into Spy-nursing, but I didn't have the enthusiasm to post anything. Maybe I should do it now for some comic relief. My life seems to be either one huge tragedy or one big cosmic joke. I don't know if God has decided which one it is yet. It's like a Greek comi-tragi.
I sometimes wonder if there are very many people who have similiar disappointments with family. I wish I knew who those people were so we could commiserate together.
On the upside, I met some nice people from France yesterday and talked to them again today. It had me thinking about France and how it would be fun to live there sometime, or to take a long vacation there at least. There are a lot of good things about France. Well, about everywhere. I wouldn't mind visiting all of the different countries. It would be fun.
I also talked with Granny a couple of days ago and she and I are still peas in a pod. I love her. She is also so funny. I forget how witty she is, still, and had some good spontanous laughter there. She comes up with the funniest things to say. She seemed to be doing pretty good too. She looked beautiful and she was up and her memory wasn't so bad, and she was funny. She's a supporter but she just doesn't have much say in "joint" financial affairs. But I still love her to death. I am trying to remember what she said that cracked me up but I can't recall at the moment.
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I was working on a photo spoof but I decided it would put out, for some, the wrong message. I was just joking around but some might not understand that. So I am not putting it up. It was to self mock and be light, but I have decided not to add it to my blog and might take down some other things as well.
Basically, I prayed a little bit and thought I should, and then I was thinking about some other things to take care of. I think it's more something I would just share with close friends.
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