One Day, I’m Going To Grow Wings


Let down and hanging around
Crushed like a bug in the ground
Let down and hanging around

Let down again
Let down again
Let down again

You know, you know where you are with
You know where you are with
Floor collapsing
Floating, bouncing back
And one day….
I am going to grow wings

A chemical reaction
Hysterical and useless
Hysterical and…
Let Down – Radiohead

Normally, I am not a fan of disclaimers. When looking at them from a psychological perspective, they are an affirmation of what is actually being said, instead of the deceit a person is trying to convey. For instance, phrases like, “I don’t want to be rude, but”, and “I’m not a (insert adjective), but”. The truth is in the disclaimer.

However, I must use one for these purposes, because these words and ideas may be misinterpreted. I do not blame my parents for all of my problems. I am well aware that I have the ability to be cognizant of and control my thoughts and subsequent behaviors. I pride myself on the self-control that I exhibit. These people are supposed to exist as part of my support system, and they parade around as such. It’s the martyr’s game. When push comes to shove, they always pull the net when I’m falling.

Here are the three most recent examples. November 2010, my husband and I were both offered employment at the same time. This had never occurred before. I went to my mother, overjoyed that I was offered this dream job. (My mother is a homemaker). I asked her if she would be willing to watch T.D. for the five hours that I’d be out of the house. She came up with a million flimsy excuses until I offered to pay her. And then, over the course of the school year, she paraded my son around the neighborhood under the guise that she was this amazing, selfless grandmother.

The possibility of being employed in the summer program came up. I was ecstatic. I mentioned this to my mother expecting the usual stoic response. Basically, she was rooting against me because she didn’t me to ruin her summer plans.

When it was first determined that I was not going to be employed for the summer program, she was overjoyed. Then, three days before camp started, I got a message inviting me to teach. And she once again, begrudgingly, took on the selfless task of caring for her grandchild. With the monetary bonus, of course.

Now, we are coming upon the school year once again. I had worked it out that T.D. would have services in the morning, get dropped off at preschool in the afternoon, and be picked up and taken into the care of my parents for the remaining time. Apparently, that was not on the agenda, although it was discussed at the beginning of the summer.

They never fail to let me down.

Our lives are so intertwined in terms of T.D. having strong affections for them, and us living on family property. I want to distance myself from these people as much as I possibly can. They are absolutely toxic.

My mother is a ridiculous and belligerent alcoholic. My father and I do not have a father / daughter relationship; I might as well be the mother of his grandson and nothing else. My parents offer no love or support without a price tag. And I can’t stand to be surrounded with such dysfunction.

I can’t believe I thought I could trust them. I can’t believe I thought I could trust anyone. (There’s some things going on in my social group involving disloyalty).

I’m ready to wall it up again. It’s easier this way.

I’m open to stories and suggestions.

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8 thoughts on “One Day, I’m Going To Grow Wings

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    • Just when I think that I’ve finally forgiven then. When I’ve finally moved past all of the BS, they have to go and prove me wrong.

      I don’t want to trash them. Years ago, I would have taken any opportunity. But, I’ve figured it out. They can’t help it. They don’t know how to be anything other than what their own parents were to them. I’ve made jokes in other posts about the my own flaws as being based largely in genetics. I know that’s not true, because I know that I have managed to break the cycle.

      I can’t entirely forgive ignorance. It’s only a partial excuse in a time where parental aids were sparse. I can’t accept an apology as a coverall either. What will determine my ultimate forgiveness is their actions. Even if they can’t fix it with me, they can do better to have a good relationship with my son.

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