I found myself using this phrase rather trying to explain the conveluted mess that seems to be my family relationships with my parents and siblings. My mother is visiting and I am reminded that nothing is EVER her fault. No she is forever the victim of everything and everyone around her. My father on the other hand would say sarcastically, “Go ahead, Blame me. Everything is my fault.” Yet he somehow escapes responsibility for his bad choices. We are not at war. I am not carrrying around a bitterness bucket. Don’t get me wrong. I get we can’t change the past and we all make mistakes. I struggle with the not ever admitting doing anything wrong part. Put your seven year old girl in a room. Expect her to entertain herself and be quiet all the time. When that fails, she is just an uncontrollable child. Really? Are my parents that obtuse? I wasn’t badly behaved anywhere else, but at home. As a parent, I make mistakes ALL the time. Those are my fault. My responsibility! I think I am so defensive because I was used to be blamed for everything. Frustrating when you are a people pleasing somewhat happy person. I think it killed my spirit. My father is a deal for another day. That’s all the venting I can take right now. I love my mother and we are trying to get along. It’s complicated.
As a kid I watched my parents fight about different things. I don't really have any other parents to compare them to so I can't really say whether they were normal fights couples have or not. I couldn't even say what most of them were about except the ones that were about me. We only ate as a family on holidays. My father came home late so we kids ate without him. I do remember spending time with him in the evening before I went to bed so it couldn't have been that late. My own husband gets home a little later because of his job commute so we eat late every night. But home schooling has given us the ability to be more flexible than my Mom was able to be. We had school early the next day. As I got older, I remember my Father being home less and less and the fights seemed to intensify. I remember one night when I was thirteen. I could hear them yelling through the wall. My mom found me crying and I told her I didn't want them to get a divorce. She told me...
I'm glad I checked on you over here.... : )
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