Here's Why I'm So Messed Up

I'm not sure where to begin. I guess, I'll begin with the history of the whole thing.

I'm not going to reveal my name in this blog. It's public, and I'm not sure exactly what that means. It may be that if you search under my name, you'll come to this journal. I'm not sure. Regardless, to you my name is Kristen, which is my middle name, and will be the name I use in this blog.

For most of my life, I've been pretty happy. I was born into a highly sensitive artistic family with a depreseed mother a great period of my youth, crying and sleeping. My father was a deep, dark artist who did not like children, and my sister and I grew up in a poor suburb of the city in a neighborhood where murders happened. Even as I write it, I can hardly believe it's true.

In 4th grade, my parents scraped all their money together to send my sister and I to a "private" Christian school which was primarily filled with kids from the city. It was a poor private school if you can believe it and by 7th grade one of the girls in my class was pregant.

So my story begins in 5th grade.

The entire class rejected me
I was one of two white girls in the class, second favorite to my white teacher, and given all the "perks" of the classroom. I was taken on special trips...I was given special jobs...I was even invited to the teachers house. Well, Jennifer Falls and I were. We were the teacher's pets -- But Jennifer was her favorite.

Then, I went to sixth grade and all of the sudden there were lots of other white girls in the class and all of the sudden there wasn't one teacher anymore. I was akward, skinney and dressed entirely in thrift shop clothes, which although are cool now, were NOT cool then. I was not in "Christian Academy 6th Grade Fashion" with collars flipped up and blue eyeshadow. And at some point, somewhere, I was rejected by Jennifer Falls and all the other "cool girls" in the class. Not only was I rejected, I was ridiculed and tormented constantly. On and on they would go, with comments like "A brick wall is jealous of you" etc. etc. Soon, the boys joined in. And at one point I remember hearing that this kind of popular boy liked me and I knew it had to be a joke. I was way too much of a reject.

I tried the "subgroups" of the sixth grade, all of which rejected me in some capacity. By the end, I was trying to get the attention of Christine, a total nerd, hoping to befriend her. I was totallly desperate. But she was such a nerd, she didn't even need friends.

I ended up keeping a journal which detailed everything each girl said to me and using their initials as a code name "L.B. = Lisa Bear" and would jot down the exact phrase they said. (This was my father's idea). On some fateful day, I left the notebook in a classroom, a teacher found it and I was called down to the office. One by one, each of the girls came in and apologized to me. And really, they never made fun of me again.

I came back the next year tough. Over the summer I grew and by the time 7th grade came, I was ready for anything. To my huge surprise, no one made fun of me very often, although someone did steal my lunch from my locker every day. ( I ended up leaving a rotten banana in a bag one day and they never stole it again). Seeing how miserable I was, my parents put me into public school (my dream come true) where I was immediately accepted and made tons of friends, some of which have lasted a lifetime.

This blog is going to be about my present, but in order for me to get in touch with my present, I have to understand the past. The first part of which is rejection. The second part of which is desire for acceptance.

My father rejected me
In terms of rejection, I was rejected by my father as a child. He disliked children (although he hasn't admitted it) and he would yell at us (particularly me) very, very often. I later accused him of favoring my sister. He sort of denies it, but I know it's true. My first car = $800.00 Her first car = 4,000.00 **UPDATE - AUDREY HAS TOLD ME THAT SHE SAVED UP EVERY PENNY SHE HAD TO BUY THIS CAR AND THAT MY PARENTS DID NOT PURCHASE IT FOR HER. My college tuition = $8,000/yr. Her college tuition = 13,000/yr. You get the idea. My father one time told me I could never be an artist that my work was immature and (basically) to stop trying. (I was in advanced placement art with the intention of becoming an art teacher). I dropped out of A.P art and decided to go to school for English. (He has since tried to encourage me with art and I have since sold a few paintings). My father never noticed the myriad of accomplishments I set before my parents. He never encouraged me in any activity, while my sister he encouraged in nearly anything she tried.

Of course, just as I was becomming a teenager, I had to deal with complete rejection by my peers -- not only by my peers, but by girls. I could no longer regard my father's rejection as a "man" rejection, but suddenly females were rejecting me too. My mother was there, but she was depressed and I was more worried about her and if I had made her depressed than she was worried about me.

My parents wanted me to be something I wasn't
These were the two major incidents that built me into an over-achiever, which, if you ask me, is a less bad psychological problem to have. By the time I got to high-school I was involved in every club, with everygroup, I'd go on every outing...I did eVERything. And my parents barely noticed. I started to dress differently, realizing that I was different than the regular groups. By 15, my two friends and I were all out hippies before it was cool. We were wearing bikenstocks when they were mail-order only. And my parents didn't even notice. Not only did they not understand, they thought I was low. So, I started smoking. My biggest rebellion since they'd supposedly "quit" for me when I was younger. And on and on it went. Here's a phrase I remember best "Why can't you just be a lovely young woman like Chrissy Wisnowski". (C.W. was this Lacrosse player that went to our church and school). It didn't matter what I did. It didn't matter that I was in 15 clubs, in every play, that I won "Best Artist" and "Best Actress" that I was in A.P. Art and English, that I made posters for Reagan's school visit, that I gave the graduation speech, that I decorated for dances etc. etc. my parents didn't notice and I was never ever good enough because I wasn't Chrissy Wisnewski.

My first abusive relationship (in college)
By the time I reached college, I started to actually realize these things (which prior were completely unbeknownst to me). I was like a starry-eyed teenager, having fun and oblivious. I got angry at my father, I became a radical feminist and despite this, began a 4 year emotionally abusive relationship slash friendship (depending on his mood) with someone that did not love me. He knew what was going on. He understood my need for acceptance. He knew my areas of weakness and he knew that I believed he loved me. But for 4 very long years, he used me to stroke his ego. He used me to listen to him make up stories about how great he was.

This marked the third significant rejection I experienced, and this time I was aware of it. For years, I clung on to the hope that someday in some capacity he would accept me for the way that I was and somehow atone for my father. But he never did. He always put me down. He always ripped my confidence apart. He always made me feel inadaquate, shooting another hole into my vulnerability.

My friends rejected me
By the time I graduated, I was a mess. I was high energy, nervous, drank and smoked way toomuch, and was always creating chaos around me, feeling stable only in fixing the chaos. I became overly confrontational and made fights in order to fix them. I moved downtown with my two best friends from high school and was ultimately rejected by my entire household, including the two girls. They accused me of trying to get their boyfriend's attention and the one felt that I would surely murder someone. The situation was not ideal. I lived in the biggest room by myself. The other two lived in smaller rooms with their boyfriends, one of which had liked me first...the other which could barely speak Englisyh. Their relationships were difficult, and I had all the space in the world. But regardless, so marked the 4th major rejection I experienced, this time by people I thought I could really trust. People that saw and knew everything.

I became closed off
After that, I closed completely off to women. I began to look for men with money and found one, an engineer, that was very boring, dry, nerdy and like a stereotypical engineer. Of course I was his dream girl. He was used to dating total nerds. He did accept and love me, but I nowhere near loved him. And for awhile, I thought that it couuld work. That I was safe that way. I'll have the upper hand.

Well, it didin't work. I broke up with him and tried to find an old boyfriend in college, named Ryan. He was around, but we never seemed to reconnect. He was the one college boyfriend I had that I really do believe loved me, but I didn't realize it at the time. In reaction to the rejection I'd experienced, I treated Ryan poorlly and did everything in my power to keep him out. I no longer wanted to let anyone in. At least men. I fought him hard to keep him away and eventually, I won. And when I went to look for him he was afraid of coming back.

I found Jonas, a man 10 years older than me that was an artist and a talker. Big mistake. Way too old. It was a terrible mistake that makes me shudder when I think about it. On top of it all, Jonas was an alcoholic (what was I thinking).

Through it all, the jerk that rejected me in college was still there. Always coming around. Always being this "friend" to me that constantly criticized me and used me for his own confidence. He approved of Jonas, thinking that was a good match.

I met the only man I could ever marry
Then, I met Mike. He was the only man I could ever marry because he was the most normal man I'd ever met. Plus, he loved God and that was ultimately what I needed. He helped to calm me down and offered a stability that I'd not seen before. I knew instantly that I would marry him and eventually, I did.

But I continue to have difficulity opening up to him. I still have wall after wall after wall and it seems the only people that can stillhurt me, are the ones that blasted holes into me earlier in my life. Those people know the secret passages into those holes and (when I speak to them) go inside and set off explosions. Until recently, Iw as still talking to several of those people. But a few months ago, I cut them off.

That concludes the history
So this blog is going to be about what's happening to me now. I'mcompletely confused, desperately depressed and I don't know where God is takingme. My baby is awake and I have to take care of him. Hopefully I'll write more later.