06-16-03 @ 11:23 am EDT

For belated Father's Day, Ma got Dad this little wooden picture-holder-type thing for his office desk...holds a notepad and paperclips and a picture or some such...she put in a little photo of Eric and Rayne (my niece, Dad's granddaughter). She set it on the counter and told me to tell him it was there or some such, but I forgot, so it's still sitting there.

Allow spiteful, shallow me to get something out of the way first: It's such a little dinky thing. I understand that by now, none of us even know what the others truly want, and even if we did, we could never afford it. Whenever we ask each other what we want, we are always evasive. ALL of us. But Dad and myself most of all. We just say we don't know, we don't want anything. I know that's not true, at least not in my case, but the things I want are likely too expensive, and my parents never pay close enough attention to what I truly want anyway (here's a hint--most often it's got two hard somethings, and a bunch of thin flat somethings in between the hard somethings, with lots of words about Egypt or the Ojibwa in it!--or else it's money with which I can BUY those somethings for myself), so why tell? It's gotten to the point where for years Ma was getting dad Dremel drill thingies and license plate tabs for his birthday and such because we just have no clue what the others want. Ma can hint once in a while what she wants, but not Dad or me. Dad just doesn't seem to care much, even though part of me feels he does. I DO care, but feel too guilty wanting things, so don't speak up. Every year, our holidays have gotten smaller and smaller. There wasn't even any candy this past Easter, and there has always been at least SOMETHING before. :(

I look at old Christmas pictures of me sitting by the tree SURROUNDED by gifts! Just wallowing in them! In particular I remember one with a little toy plastic shopping cart, filled with gifts! The cost of living must have just skyrocketed, because back then only my dad worked, and now it's both parents, and there are very few presents. And my avoidance is so bad that I'm horribly embarrassed just opening gifts in front of my parents. I always want to wait until they're gone, or go and do it in my room, but of course I can't do that.

It's even worse when the gifts are not what you wanted. How can I blame them? I never tell them what I want so Ma has to go on what she thinks I might want. Often, she just gets me what SHE wanted. (Did you know my dad got me FLASHLIGHTS as a gift last year? Flashlights? That one baffles even me. Well...at least they're kinda useful. :/ ) As a result I sit there on Christmas morning with a few gifts or on my birthday with one or two gifts which I'm not really sure what to do with, but...I have to be appreciative anyway.

I HATE that I don't always like what I get. I should like it, no matter what it is. Because they aren't obligated to get me anything. Sometimes, I think it would just be easier on us all if there were no more presents, ever. I would be terribly disappointed that special days pass by without any recognition...but at least the agonizing wouldn't be there anymore. Damn, I'm starting to cry and this isn't even what the entry was going to be about. Hold on a moment. Let me finish.

I fully understand the human emotion of not being happy with what you have. We all feel it sometimes, and we should not beat ourselves up about it. Disappointment is one of the hardest feelings to live with, especially when you must show appreciation, ESPECIALLY when you're a piss-poor liar and have to fake liking something anyway. So I hold back my disappointment every holiday...which is down to only Christmas and my birthday, by now...and try to make my "Thank you" sound intelligible. I hope they chalk it up to just my shyness and not disappointment. I hate to type this because of the fear one of them might see it; Ma DID find and read part of Skew once. I hate the thought of her finding out I have not liked some of the things she's gotten for me, when she's just done her best with what little we have. I hate to be disappointed, when I should just be happy by now that they even remembered at all. (She's bad at remembering my exact birthday.)

I think what hurts even more is me not being able to pay either of them back. I do not get my parents gifts. Not only because of the lack of money, but because...I have no clue what they would like, and I would much rather they not get anything, than to see the looks of feigned liking or of disappointment on their faces when I get them something they don't like. I still remember years ago being forced to participate in that stupid Secret Santa program and buying Ma a plate with geese on it. She was in this duck phase back then and I was sure she'd love it...she stuck it in a corner and forgot about it...even the card I made her for her last birthday, the one that made her cry (it's somewhere in this journal last September--I made it for her after a big fight) and said she wanted to frame, I have no clue what happened to it...but I can't be angry. With the card, it was the gesture more than anything she must have liked, because it was just a dumb printout...but the plate, that really hurt. I have a bad memory, but I seem to recall every single time I've ever disappointed somebody. And all those times hurt as badly today as they ever did.

I just do not want to disappoint my parents again, so rather than risk it, I purposefully fail to give them gifts, every time. Trying and failing hurts a hell of a lot more than not trying. So the result is that the holidays come and go and get smaller every year and I wonder when Christmas and birthdays will be the same as every other day of the week, the way all the other holidays went. We used to go watch fireworks on the Fourth...eat turkey on Thanksgiving...get lots of candy on Easter. We don't celebrate those holidays anymore. Easter died this year.

But that wasn't what this entry was even about.

I saw the little wooden picture holder Ma got and felt ashamed. It's so small...I wish she could get something that Dad REALLY wants. But when none of us tell each other what we want, and when we can't afford it anyway (Dad once in a while mentions his dream of getting a big-ass chair--where would we even FIT it, if we could afford it?), why do I let it bother me so much? I think it bothers me because *I* could be at least trying to get him something nice, but you've already seen why I don't...so I feel shame instead.

That still was not the point of this entry, but it sort of ties in with it. With me, you just can't win. I saw the little picture of Eric and Rayne and my very first thought was: I'm not in the picture. There's Dad's son, and Dad's granddaughter. His daughter? Me? Not there. I know this was not intentional. Ma was thinking that since Rayne is the newest member of the family, Dad will of course want a picture of HER on his desk. And Eric just happened to be in the picture, though being Dad's son, he would be nice on the desk too. I bet it never crossed her mind that I would feel hurt and ignored that I was not in the picture.

But that's what I felt anyway. Eric and Rayne--Eric and Rayne. ALWAYS Eric and Rayne! Rayne, the cute one, the superachievement--the granddaughter. Eric, the overachiever, the one who FATHERED her. I was the one who got the grades, but he was the popular one who did EVERYTHING I wished I could do but never could. I might have been on the honor roll all of my life but ONCE (and I was cheated that time!), but HE was the one who did everything that MATTERED in life. Take a look, he moved out of the house, at least. And got a job, and gave my parents the grandkid that I never will. I've failed them in all respects while he's always succeeded. They deny this whenever I should bring it up, but I know it's true. It's just that they're my parents and of course they can't tell me to my face that I've failed them. I tell myself that enough for both of them.

I know this did not cross Ma's mind at the moment she put that picture in there, though. But it crossed my mind on seeing it, and it's obviously still bothering me, else you wouldn't be reading this, would you?

I felt anger and hurt. I left the picture and left the room. Then I paused and told myself to think over what I would have done if Ma had come to me asking for a picture to include along with Eric's in the little holder. WHAT would I have done then...?

The answer came immediately. I would have refused to give her a picture. I would have argued against it, so hard and so annoyingly, that we probably would have gotten into a fight. I would have told her I'm butt ugly and nobody wants a picture of me on their desk--because it's true, there ARE no good pictures of me! Except for a few that I found of myself as a little girl...when I was digging and found my old diary. I didn't hesitate to give Ma THOSE pictures. There's one in particular where I'm wearing a smart little outfit Ma sewed for me. My long hair is in a tail but my bangs are falling in my eyes. It doesn't bother me. I'm wearing dress clothes, but that doesn't bother me. In the picture, I look as if I should have a riding crop and a pony, I look so dapper. And I have a huge smile on my face.

I lost that smile a long time ago...I notice now that even when I DO smile in pictures, people look at them (IF I let them see them!) and say, "You'd look better if you smiled." All I can think is, "But...I was smiling!"

No, not really. I haven't allowed myself to smile in pictures since...around junior high. The guidance counselor in high school even said, "You seemed to lose your smile right around here." *points at a yearbook picture from my last year of elementary school* "What happened...?"

Wish I could say. Things just...changed.

And I've always cringed from giving away my picture since. My graduation pics? Those ones that are supposed to be GLAMOR shots? (Somebody gag me.) Kenneth R., a photographer and the husband of my old psychologist, took those pictures of me and as soon as I could, I stole them from Ma. STOLE them! She ranted and yelled and got so angry but I swiped them away and buried them in my room. I don't think I got them all...*sigh*...but I came across a couple while digging upstairs. I hate them. I HATE them. I want to tear them up and burn them, yet fear of retribution from Ma (and the memory of her having paid for them) hinders me. Still, I didn't bring them downstairs and give them to her along with my childhood pics; they're still safely buried. I look like a fat, pale, bloated, frizzy, ugly pig...I just hate them. And no, I'm not smiling in them either.

This is how I would have reacted if Ma had asked me for a picture to put on Dad's desk, along with Eric's and Rayne's.

And even IF the thought crossed her mind to ask me, which it probably didn't, her knowledge of my reaction--and she WOULD know how I would react--would be more than enough to make her just think, "Eh, screw it," and not include my picture rather than get into a big argument over how ugly I am. One of my favorite retorts when she tells me I should just get my hair cut short rather than deal with the frustrating ritual of her doing it over and over again: "I'll look like a BOY if it gets cut short!" She always disagrees (never backs up her comment, though), but I know I would. I wear no makeup...I'm not pretty...I would look like an ugly boy. Ugly boy, ugly girl, what does it matter, I'd be ugly anyway. She would rather just forget my picture than go through all that crap, and really, who can blame her? Certainly not me! You've seen what I think of myself.

And so what it all boiled down to, after I saw that little picture holder, was this:

Ma did not include a picture of me with the family photo. She does not think I'm worthy of sitting on Dad's desk. She likes my brother and niece more. My brother has always been better, and Rayne is a lot prettier than I ever was. I'm worthless. They all hate me. I've disappointed them all.

But if Ma had said, "Can I include your picture?" it would boil down to this:

I'm ugly. I'm hideous. I can't let somebody put my picture on their desk. It's not worthy to sit beside people who are NOT ugly. Eric and Rayne are not ugly. Besides, Eric is successful; I'm not. Why have a picture of an ugly unsuccessful disappointment on your desk every day? No, I will not give up a picture. Dad doesn't deserve that reminder every time he looks at your gift.

I WANT TO JUST BEAT MYSELF UPSIDE THE HEAD! No WONDER people can't stand me. I don't let them win no matter WHAT they say! If Ma DOESN'T include my picture, then she's ignoring me and she hates me and I'm a disappointment to the family. If she WANTS to include my picture, I won't let her because I'm worthless and useless and a disappointment to the family. Honestly, would you keep arguing with me to try to convince me I'm wrong, when it's obvious I'll never believe otherwise? Or would you just say, "Screw it!" and brush it off? Ma always chooses to do the latter. It does make me angry and it hurts me badly that she would rather brush off my hurt than try to convince me I'm wrong; in my mind, that tells me she does not care how I feel. But one can only argue so long before the negative party just drives them crazy with frustration. I need constant affirmation, and people are not bottomless PEZ dispensers of affirmation. Even my temper grows short when I come across a negative person. (And there's one on this site who drives me so batty that I would just rip him a new one if I had the guts, and if I didn't KNOW it would be hypocritical of me--whenever his whining starts to make me fume, I always stop and say, "Hey--SOUND FAMILIAR?")

People will only tolerate you SO long. And if you make it impossible for them to win no matter what they do, you set yourself up for extreme disappointment, because you will never win, either. Out of all of this, the biggest loser, in the end, is...me.

I AM the one sitting here beating myself up inside all over a little picture. Guess what...this is what I go through EVERY DAY. Every single day! Every little perceived oversight on someone else's part--innocent gestures they never give a second thought to--I see it all and take it ALL personally. Even when part of me knows there's no way they could know the impact it has on me. It all hurts, all the time, and what's even worse is the SHAME and guilt I feel once I find out for certain they had no clue what I was feeling. God, I would be able to live with all this second-guessing and motive-seeking if I just didn't have to feel the horrendous GUILT afterwards! >_<

I realize this will sound very trite and labeling right here, but this entire entry is one of the reasons I sit here and seriously consider if I might be borderline. Because trying to explain all this paranoid convoluted thinking is making even ME steam. I could SO be doing something better with my time, like working on Part 7, rather than sitting here trying to explain all this. Gawd.

Well, that's enough negativity for one day; maybe I can come up with something better later on. I DID find some other things upstairs I should share with you sometime, like a couple of short stories I don't remember writing, and other old journalish stuff. Maybe another time? I just needed to explain what I'm feeling right now in the hopes of letting it out. It's a dumb little picture...I forgot about it once, I should forget about it again. Nobody got in a fight over it, so I should consider this one of my successes. Oh, and Sumi sent me fifteen reviews yesterday! ^_^ I read only the first and last one but she gave me some very good advice, including some I'm surprised I never considered on my own. I'm too close to my own writing to see some of the blatant flaws most of the time...which is why I'm grateful for people who (tactfully) point them out. I hope the story didn't bore her.

I guess I should end this entry now...*sigh* And maybe the next entry will not be so annoying.

Tar...