Unloved, Unwanted & Disowned Ever since I was a child in kindergarten I knew there was something strange about my mother. She didn't seem normal, but at that time, how would I know what normal is?
My brother, four-years-older, never seemed to be home. I have never had a conversation with him, and I am now in my late forties. He was never interested in getting to know me or including me in his life. He was someone I knew was there but my existence, and his, was meaningless.
We lived in
same house, but we were both more like boarders. He always was off with his buddies. I didn't really meet those people until high school years, but even then it didn't matter.
Both my parents and brother were never capable of showing love or emotion. Whatever feelings they had, it only appeared in form of severe negativity. My mother was always crying for some reason or another. She seemed to hate her life even though nothing at all was ever expected of her.
All my mother ever did was go in basement and yell at washing machine, talk to cleaning woman at lunch and watch television. Her only goal in life was to figure out what's for dinner and which room to clean.
She was obsessed with cleanliness. She sometimes would get on floor on her hands and knees and scrub floor. But she was never happy with results. Everything was always dirty, even minutes after it was cleaned, she felt it was dirty again.
It took me my whole lifetime to realize my mother and father were mentally disturbed. My parents both lived off successful financial condition of my maternal grandparents. My father was a ne'er-do-well who made it from check to check but my grandmother willingly gave money on a regular basis for whatever we needed.
I guess since my father knew that, he didn't try very hard. My grandfather tried to force my father and uncle to be in business together, but that was always volatile. My entire household was always volatile, with explosive temperaments coming from everywhere. Always loud voices yelling and swearing and slamming of doors and throwing of objects with uncontrolled, raging tempers. I was shaking a lot.
My parent's have always had extreme difficulty getting along with people, and that was one of many reasons why they have few to none as far as social contacts was concerned.
My mother spent most of her life watching television. She always was ill from something or another. But her illnesses weren't bad enough to keep her from forming a life her own. She simply didn't try or was too mentally weak.
