Being Real 3

There was a deep resentment of my family and a helplessness to do anything about it. I began to question if I loved them. I mean I knew they didn’t love me. In all honesty I felt hatred and bitterness and resentment. I hated how they treated me. And then I felt guilty for my hatred. I was supposed to love them. They were supposed to love me. I did challenge them at times about how they treated me but the odds were against me. 3 adult women in solidarity proved too much. I simply allowed the abuse. There was much anger and grief for me about why they were mine. Why I had to have a family like that. I could never seem to make sense of it and I felt much relief when they weren't talking to me. I didn't mind being in the doghouse. I knew I would not hear from them for months at a time and that provided some respite. I could breathe and plan and dream when they left me alone. The anxiety would begin when we were on speaking terms again.

I met a man. His name was Patrick. He had his own woundedness and his own sinful past. His own heart issues. We dated for 3 years. I knew they would not treat me the same way when Pat was around and I loved that so much! He was a buffer for me when we were all together. I remember one incident where he excused himself to do something and they all started in on me. “What? Why? How?” When he reentered the room they shut up. Awesome! They felt threatened by him(any "outsider" was threatening to them)and that was fine by me. I continued to endure the phone calls and messages though as that seemed to be their MO. After times together they would begin to pick apart everything I said and how I had said it and what I might have meant by every comment. Like clockwork the phone calls would start a few days later.

Patrick and I were engaged in 1993. I don't think I really wanted my sisters as bridesmaids but asked them anyway then braced myself for whatever might happen. I would call and ask them to come look at dresses or shoes and they gave me the hardest time about everything. They didn't like this or that. They wouldn't be able to make it to that. They weren't willing to do what most bridesmaids do. HELP the bride! I became fed up trying to work with them so I called them both and told them I would appreciate them at the wedding but not as bridesmaids. Yeah. I know. WWIII. It all came crashing down like I figured it would. My sisters refused to attend the wedding. I am sure you can imagine the messages I received. I found out through them my mother refused to go as well. My dad was going to walk me down the aisle but two weeks before my wedding he called to say if he did that his wife would never talk to him again. So he told me he wouldn't be walking me down the aisle. I tried to stuff the feelings down about a family that would do that to a daughter/sister.

I called the man I was a nanny for and asked him if he would consider walking me down the aisle. He cried on the phone. He said he would be HONORED!! Other dear friends stepped in to be bridesmaids. Imagine that. I focused on what my wedding day meant to me. The day I became Mrs. Patrick Stream was wonderful! I was married!! Not long after that, my father showed up where I worked. I don't remember what he said. He had received a phone call from his brother that was none too pleasant. My uncle came, my father didn't. My uncle basically said over and over YOU WEREN'T THERE!

I still got married. The wedding day happened. Without them. It was to me the culmination of a lifetime of rejection.

Post Series:

Being Real 1

Being Real 2

Being Real 3

Being Real 4

Being Real 5

Being Real 6