CardinalRose's Diary

[CardinalRose]

Dear little version of myself from a damaged family,
I haven't talked to you in a long time and when I look at pictures of you, I find myself asking, "where did that girl go?" What happened to the memories I am supposed to have from my childhood? I didn't suffer any dramatic trauma that would result in me blocking most of my childhood out or at best, seeing some memories from a third person perspective. I was the creation of a mother's desire to have a child without the discussion with my father, but she did not possess the emotional responsibility to raise one because her emotional needs always cam first and still to do to this day. My father may have been happy at one point, but I think once he found out his family name wouldn't be continued on due to me being a girl, he stopped being emotionally invested in my future. On my actual day of birth, my mom had an emergency C-section due to her pelvic bone being pressed together from multiple molestation engagements with her father before she was even a teenager. My father was notified when he was in Georgia for schooling due to his military career that had recently begun. He lied (mom found out later from a commanding officer that he would have been permitted time off for a family emergency) and he spent the first six months of my life putting himself first. The emotional bond that could have saved our relationship was never created. In fact, I feel a connection to my uncle who was there before my dad, but who died of a drug overdose in his mid thirties and who was never there for his own daughter (I'd like to think he was making up for failing his daughter and trying to find a way to forgive himself for his wrongs). I did not have any siblings because my dad was quick to offer a vasectomy vs. my mom getting her tubes tied.
I never remembered my father being interested in the things I liked to do. Actually, I remember a lot of criticizing for the choices and opinions (that's right, opinions which are not based on fact and we would later have an argument about this and about my friend's opinion) and the only decent memory I have which is still viewed in the third person is of him teaching me how to ride a pick without training wheels for the first time. He took me to get ice cream after and if I had known that would be the end of the happy memories, I would have etched that memory a little harder. I remember one time looking him in the face while he had a newspaper in his view and asking him a question. He didn't respond or look at me. I asked again with dad in the beginning of my sentence to get his attention and his response was, "oh, I thought you were talking to your mother." I didn't go to him for anything after that. H made me feel shame and guilt for a lot of things growing up. Shame for wearing makeup and shame for getting blood marks in the toilet from my period (we had to share bathrooms at this point because he and mom were sleeping in separate beds). I know that it's gross to leave marks, but as a teenager, you are oblivious to these type of things. He made me feel guilt for my mom's attempted suicide because I was at a friend's birthday party instead of being at home with her. Where was he you ask? Good question. Due to my mom's mental illness, she spent a lot of money and racked up a lot of bills which made him decide to get a second job to help pay the bills. He wanted to be at the second job than be at home dealing with the mental illness he chose to ignore even after therapy. He made me feel shame for not having the walkie talkie close by when he was trying to reach me on a relocation of the family in Virginia which almost caused me to crash into the car in front of me. He made me feel guilt for telling him to let a harassment of a male student towards me go when we was making me feel shameful in front of the principle. I honestly don't remember what was said, but I remember the anger he exhibited when I told him to forget it. He made me feel guilt when we blew up emotionally in a bank when asked for his signature and id on a loan he signed so I could consolidate the large debt I racked up due to my undiagnosed mental illness. He never respected my wishes or admitted any blame for why I felt the way I did towards him. He instead blamed me instead. He thought the title of father meant he was entitled to all things the word encompasses. He was toxic and un-trust worthy. He is no longer a part of my life.
My mother is a co-dependent, borderline personality, narcissist, selfish woman who has always put herself first since I was born. Her post partum put a space in the mother and daughter bond and to this day, she can't put my needs first. When I was a teenager and her marriage was falling a part (which actually should have never been consummated) she and my father would get into fights and she would be left crying in her bedroom. I didn't know why. I saw him leave, then heard her cry, so I eventually put it together. I would go to the store and buy her a rose and candy bar to make her feel better. Little did I know from a harmless gesture(s), I would become her surrogate spouse, responsible for her emotional needs and put my existence and development on hold. I wouldn't be as strong as I am now, but I'm not without my many issues of not allowing people to get close, fear of intimacy, fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, fear of not being good enough, fear of never being loved.
What I am saying to you little one from forgotten memories, none of what happened to you was your fault. You were the victim of two parents who were never supposed to be together, a father who was as ignorant and selfish as the day is young and a mother who had enough issues she should have thought twice about having children or at the very least provided her with therapy while it was free through the government to help her daughter before she became an adult. You should never blame yourself and you did the best you could.

I love you little one,
Cardinal Rose