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Thanks for visiting my diary. I've been journaling since 1984 and have chosen to share some of my entries online. They are not all positive thoughts, but I hope that reading them might be a blessing to someone who needs encouragement.
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Talking about my parents is a very difficult thing for me right now, especially when it applies to my mother. My dad and I are alike in many ways. This can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the day. He understands some of the things I need someone to understand most; but on a bad day he may be hyperfocused and not in the mood to understand. I've been guilty of this, and it's something I've worked on very hard over the years.
Mom is very appearance-conscious, and this has been an issue for me for most of my life. I suspect that most parents of visually impaired kids don't know how to convey the kind of information they use to make decisions about their own appearances. I know that appearance is important, but I also think it can be overemphasized and that in many cases the parent of the VI child exercises too much influence for too long. Furthermore, a blind person's appearance flaws automatically become rooted in blindness when the reality may be that other things (personal choice, depression, etc.) influence appearance just as they do for a sighted person.
The prime example I can think of is makeup. I know a number of sighted people who don't wear makeup. Some don't like it; some choose not to wear it because of religious practices. People may have their opinions about those people's appearance, but none of these people has difficulty obtaining a job. They are clean, dress neatly, etc. Yet if I choose not to wear makeup for my own personal reasons, it becomes an issue of my obviously not realizing how much I need it. (Am I ugly without it?) I live in an apartment above my parents. If I go downstairs as we're about to leave, it is not at all uncommon for Mom to call me into the bathroom and put makeup on me. Of course, I comply. To defy would be disrespectful. But I am 29 years old! Shouldn't it be my right to choose whether or not I want to wear makeup?
This is very representative of my current struggle, particularly with my mother. She perceives me as needing a caregiver and believes that this is her responsibility. I asked her once if she felt the same way about my sister, who is sighted and has made some very irresponsible life decisions. She simply said, "I don't know," and that was the end of the discussion. I really don't know how to put the message I'm receiving from her into words. She recognizes that I am making some personal choices which she disagrees with, but I think she feels that if I could see I wouldn't be making these choices because I would "know better".
My heart's desire is to find a good job (and one where I can be reasonably at peace) and move away, put some space between myself and my parents. This is the only way I know to peaceably claim my right to be an adult and lose the child role. My dilemma, of course, is the fact that moving costs money. You can't get money without a job, and you can't get a job without living where the jobs are. Job possibilities for me where I live are very very slim.
My parents have done a lot of things right, and perhaps I feel obligated to say this after painting a negative picture of them. Perhaps I'll elaborate on this in another post. I'm not going to practice emotional self-abuse and smooth over what I've written here with all the positives out of obligation. I don't have to explain that I don't hate my mother.
People talk a lot about father images and relationships with God. I've never thought much about this for myself. But recently I've caught myself wondering if God thinks of me the way my mother does. Very dangerous waters. God becomes a critic rather than a loving, gracious, rejoicing in the goodness of His creation God.
I occasionally hear about people reading these books like "Toxic Parents" and I think, "How disrespectful!" I've had this issue with respect for a long time, and I really don't know where it came from. You just didn't disagree with authority figures. Hmmmm... I'm having very vivid memories of Mom saying firmly, "Don't argue with me!" But sometimes authority figures ARE wrong, and sometimes statements made in an attempt to communicate a difference in understanding are interpreted as arguing (perhaps because the person in authority feels insecure or fears admitting he/she is wrong?).
I'm having a silly memory that illustrates this. My mom has a tradition of buying my sister and me each an ornament for Christmas--usually an angel. When I was ten years old, she bought me a bell ornament. The clanger was an angel, and engraved inside was the year 1982.
My sister coveted my bell, and somehow a few years later it ended up in her ornament box. When she took it out to hang it up, I threw the biggest fit known to man. Of course, we argued about it; and finally Mom said that she was going to put it away and no one would have it. I went off to my room to nurse my hurt.
Later that night, I remembered the 1982 engraving. I went in to Mom's room and said to her, "Mom, you bought me that ornament in 1982." She dug it out and looked at it, and of course I was right. The issue was settled.
The bell no longer clangs properly--it was broken in two during my last move. It broke almost perfectly in half, and only now do I see how ironic that is. Dad glued it back together, and it hangs on the tree very nicely. I'm sitting here feeling an incredible sense of awe that I can't describe. The bell has taken on a very very deep meaning for me. I don't think I will ever feel the same when I hang it up. It's becoming an icon for me of many things.
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