Pissing match

I've been having a pissing match with mum and dad in my subconscious dreams and I woke up instead of letting it go on.

I remember the screaming and yelling between the 2 of them in Tanzania, on Jerome.
I asked dad, what happened when i crawled into bed with you when mom was at work and why did you forbid me to go back after that because I wet the bed. I never wet the bed.  Only sucked my thumb till I was 14.  So what really happened when I when the bed?

Yo know, my dad was not a nice dad growing up, he was always angry.  He would not take me on his road trips no matter how much I begged, even for a short one.  The excuse was, people would think I was his woman.

This is as far as I have gotten in my dreams. Each dream like it seems to take me a bit farther.  The pissing match, confronting them is the newest and ugliest.  It's like I do not want to hear anymore, so I wake up.

I guess, cause I wish to know no more.

What scares me is that my dad molested me and I pee'd in bed.  He always was a horny dude with mom.

Why did I dislike my mom so?  Was it because I needed daddy's love and it was withheld from me so I took it out on her?

Dad told me he was an angry man while I grew up.
He told me mom was jealous of me, for what I'd grown up to be, the independence and stand I took.  She would have never been like that.  Was he talking about my abrasive nature and confidence that was all a show?  I was a scared 3 yr old on the inside.

Now I feel as if I am stuck at 33 when I chose Collen to fornicate with.  Like I cant get past that and what followed for the next decade. Like it should have never happened.

I too grew up angry, unhappy and hurt others before they could hut me.

When that lady at the storage unit told me she remembered Gracie as a "happy go lucky nice girl," my brain did a stretch to even get around that notion.  She was just the pet, as well as Steve, as well as seeing her get felt up by that guy from NS church in the office coming home from school.  I loathed her spirit of fun and adventure.  He happiness and her relationship with Becky.  It seemed to take for ever to realize they were not foreigners to me but my sisters. Not even when we left grace behind in primary school, and went to Mitchell would she walk to school with me.  I always walked alone, not even with Don.  As a matter of fact, I walked to school alone even in HS. Where were Becky and Don?

Was I THAT abrasive?

The only times I ever wet the bed, was when I was masturbating on Jerome and then I pee'd myself.  It wasn't till I was seventeen that I realized all those feelings were because I had a vagina, not a urethra.

Damn, I am such the fucked up woman.

I was listening to Dr Phil "interrogate" a man about his abrasive arrogant behavior.  He wept on public TV when Dr Phil said his arrogance and abrasive personality could be fixed cause those were his safety mechanisms when growing up.... to hurt others before they hurt you.  I guess that is why I pushed so many people away in my life.... by being abrasive, arrogant, know it all and a person who made/created verbal fights.  It's why I couldn't keep roommates in college.  It's why only Judy would be my friend and why I pushed men away at MBI.  I was only comfortable around Glyn when I flirted with him at Christmas time, it was sexually stimulating for/to me.  Twas how I remember him and me.

I was longing to be the woman I thought I portrayed while all along I was worthless, wretched, abrasive, inwardly ugly and totally afraid.  My only defensive measures wee to hurt others before they hurt me.  Is that why I shove Jeff away?  I knew I wasn't worth all the love he shed on me, the person I pretended to be?  But also really was?

It was like I had this 3 person identity.  What I tried to portray.  What others really saw.  How I felt about myself.  Now it seems to have messed all into one, except for this growing ache inside of me of the little girl I left on the highway, sad and crying lonely and needing me to go back and pick her up.  Emily, I call her.  That little girl inside of me seems always to be there, many times seeming to want to talk, yet I am afraid of what she will say to me  and ever present, to remind me of who I really am.

Just a scared woman, who doesn't think she deserves much so I am a life screw up in all that I do.
Fail at what I enjoy the most.  Being a missionary.  having a partner.  Being an employee., a tax payer.  Like I have to screw up to prove to myself that is who I really am. Like that guy on Dr Phil.  He was a screw up and when offered help, cried publicly.

Maybe my mind went haywire tonight because I saw that I was going to see Sheri next week.

I want to "make love" in the worst way back in CO with that boy when I was out looking for missions support.  My body felt ever inch of his.  I wanted to kneel beside his bed and say "here I am, you can have me."  I know he felt it too.  What a screw up that would have been,  I would have never gotten to Africa.

Now what?  Try to go back to bed.

And yes, I am always a pissing math with myself.  Tis what I thot as I made a title for this post.

Well, everybody's got a story to tell

And everybody's got a wound to be healed
I want to believe there's beauty here
So, I guess you're tired of holding on
I can't let go, I can't move on
I want to believe there's meaning here

How many times have you heard me cry out
"God please take this"?
How many times have you given me strength to
Just keep breathing?
Oh I need you
God, I need you now.

Standing on a road I didn't plan
Wondering how I got to where I am
I'm trying to hear that still small voice
I'm trying to hear above the noise

Though I walk, though I walk through the shadows
And I, I am so afraid
Please stay, please stay right beside me
With every single step I take

How many times have you heard me cry out?
And how many times have you given me strength?

I need you now
I need you now