Baby sister Jen. Where do I even begin. You know how a little sister follows her big sister around and wants to be just like her, but might torment her sometimes too - just because she can? That's Jen. Jenny-bug, as she is affectionately called in my family, is only 17 months younger than me. That means, I don't really exist in her world - well I didn't when we were growing up. Now, I might be a blip on the radar sometimes, mostly when I need something. When we were growing up she attached herself to Mel. Most of the time, Mel was ok with this until Jen touched her stuff. Then it was pandemonium. "DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!!!!" was a common scream heard in my house. Our house was comfortable but small - only three bedrooms. Luckily, I got my own - I'm not sure I would have survived childhood and adolescence without my safe-haven! I always wished my parents would let me have a lock on my door, but that never happened. My parents obviously had a room, which left one room for my sisters. It was a good size room, not TOO cramped, but many times too close for comfort for the older sister. I never could figure out why they weren't just best friends all the time. Mel's friends were always a lot more annoying than Jen ever was, but for some reason the moments of sisterly love were fewer than I would have expected, and somewhat fleeting. It was usually when my mom had come to the end of her rope with Jen teasing Mel and Mel freaking out about it. Then, when they realized my mom was seriously ticked, they'd mellow out and hug and say how much they loved each other and it was all cute and adorable. Or something like that. Remember, I was the middle child between two drama princesses so I didn't come into play very often. I didn't mind. Actually, to be fair, Jen and I had as good of a relationship as we could have, given our personalities and circumstances. I was always a little bugged that she wasn't a brother, and even more bugged that my parents didn't have one more child so I could have a brother. Apparently, this bothered me early on as I would ask if Jen was a boy quite a bit. Then when I figured out she was a girl and wasn't going to miraculously change into a boy, I began to ask, with some frequency, when my parents were going to have another boy? It seemed only fair. Now, that I'm older I wonder what would have happened if they had another child and it was another girl. I wonder if I would have ceased to exist completely. Probably not, I would have just been institutionalized at a young age.
Jen was pretty cute. Everyone said Mel was beautiful, I think Jen was cuter. Keep in mind, I came to this conclusion later in life as I looked back at pictures. When we were little, I thought they were both hideous gargoyles. Or screeching harpies, either one. But I always liked Jen more. Maybe because we were so close in age, I don't know. Jen knew how to push Mel's buttons, but at the same time wanted to do everything Mel did. Jen looked up to Mel a lot, and really Mel provided a pretty good example, except the drama part. That was just plain aggravating. As Jen grew up she ended up being a good athlete like Mel, but a bit more feminine. She stuck to dancing, swimming and running and really only did any of them for fun and entertainment, not really to compete. I thought this was a bit strange since Mel was so ultra-competitive. Just a slight difference in personality I guess. Jen was my mom's favorite. My mom would never admit it, but she absolutely loved Jen more than Mel and me. I feel it was because they were SO much alike. Jen was the miniature version of my mom, and for some reason they just went together.
I guess that brings us back to me...
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
My Sister Melanie
There is a lot more to be said about my parents, like the fact that my mom had been in a relationship before she met my dad that resulted in a child, but I'll fill you in more on that as we go along. One side note that probably needs to be shared so you understand the slant of my writing about my family is this: A therapist I met with a few years ago when I was really struggling with my marriage and my self-confidence, and my life in general tried to blame my short-comings on my parents. I about came unglued. My parents did everything they could to take good care of me as a child. I loved my childhood! And apart from the oil and water relationship my parents had, I always knew I was loved and cared for, period. Sound defensive enough? Well I am.
Anyway, on to my sister Melanie. As a result of the afore-mentioned relationship, my sister Melanie is biologically my half-sister Melanie. At no point in time have I ever referred to her as anything but my sister and for all intents and purposes, she is my sister - even when I wanted to slap her face. So, Melanie is about 3 years older than me, give or take. I'm the middle child between 2 sisters, you don't know how many times I rued this fact in my young life. To this day it affects me. Melanie was as bossy a person as you could ever want to meet. She was aggressive and she got what she wanted, or at least fought tooth and nail to get it, no matter who she hurt. If you recall I mentioned that when my parents would fight my sisters would make it worse by prolonging the drama. To be honest, it was mostly Melanie and my other sister, Jen - whom you'll meet later - kind of just followed along. Jen REALLY wanted to be Mel for some strange reason. And Mel really wanted the attention of my Mother, practically non-stop. It was SUPER frustrating for me and caused a lot of friction with Jen too. From Jen's perspective I think it was more the ability to always push Mel's buttons for sport. I'll tell you more about Jen in the next segment. Mel, would pile on the already stressful situations caused by my parents' yelling by saying things in a completely passive-aggressive manner so as to fan the flames just enough to insinuate herself into the fights, if she could. And she usually could. For as sweet and kind and patient as my mom was, Mel was exactly the opposite. She was kind of like the fly annoying the lion just enough to keep him really ticked off. I'm not sure why she felt like she had to fight for my mother's attention, but she did. And she fought hard. To the point of completely alienating me. I would avoid talking to Mel at all cost. If I did speak with her it was in monosyllabic words and phrases. I wanted her away from me and the conversation over as quickly as possible. And, I always just wanted the yelling to end, so when I was old enough to figure out what Mel was doing, it really upset me and she and I would end up fighting. But she was scary and bigger than me until I was a Junior in High School so I usually just left the situation and went to find my friends. Mel hated that and would always call me a wussy, or worse, for not sticking up for myself more. I'm pretty sure she hated me. I was OK with that at the time usually. Funny thing was, when bad things happened to Mel, I got really defensive and protective. I was the same way toward Jen. It was surprising because I didn't think I really cared.
I guess one positive thing for Mel's temperament was that she had parlayed her aggressive nature into some pretty impressive sporting accomplishments during her pre-teen and teen-age years. She was a great fast-pitch softball player, a solid long-distance runner, could mountain bike better than most guys I knew and was a GREAT swimmer. In fact, I'm sure if triathlons had been more popular in the 90's she would have been terrific at that too. Mel did well enough in school, but she wasn't a straight-A student or anything like that. She cared a bit more than me, but I think she just did well enough to stay in sports. She was pretty set on getting college paid for through sports. In fact, she ended up getting signed by the Arizona State University women's softball team, but never played. That story is for later. My dad really liked that Mel was so athletic. He was never the crazy sports dad, but he was definitely proud of her accomplishments and did whatever he could to help her improve and advance in her chosen sports. It got especially important to him when he realized I didn't like any mainstream sports. It's not that I wasn't good at them, I just didn't want to put the effort into them, and the pressure of that kind of competition never sat well with me. I think he wondered if I was really his kid, I wondered myself sometimes. For her part, Mel was always on the spot to let me know how great she was at sports and what a pansy I was. I kind of hated her too.
Anyway, on to my sister Melanie. As a result of the afore-mentioned relationship, my sister Melanie is biologically my half-sister Melanie. At no point in time have I ever referred to her as anything but my sister and for all intents and purposes, she is my sister - even when I wanted to slap her face. So, Melanie is about 3 years older than me, give or take. I'm the middle child between 2 sisters, you don't know how many times I rued this fact in my young life. To this day it affects me. Melanie was as bossy a person as you could ever want to meet. She was aggressive and she got what she wanted, or at least fought tooth and nail to get it, no matter who she hurt. If you recall I mentioned that when my parents would fight my sisters would make it worse by prolonging the drama. To be honest, it was mostly Melanie and my other sister, Jen - whom you'll meet later - kind of just followed along. Jen REALLY wanted to be Mel for some strange reason. And Mel really wanted the attention of my Mother, practically non-stop. It was SUPER frustrating for me and caused a lot of friction with Jen too. From Jen's perspective I think it was more the ability to always push Mel's buttons for sport. I'll tell you more about Jen in the next segment. Mel, would pile on the already stressful situations caused by my parents' yelling by saying things in a completely passive-aggressive manner so as to fan the flames just enough to insinuate herself into the fights, if she could. And she usually could. For as sweet and kind and patient as my mom was, Mel was exactly the opposite. She was kind of like the fly annoying the lion just enough to keep him really ticked off. I'm not sure why she felt like she had to fight for my mother's attention, but she did. And she fought hard. To the point of completely alienating me. I would avoid talking to Mel at all cost. If I did speak with her it was in monosyllabic words and phrases. I wanted her away from me and the conversation over as quickly as possible. And, I always just wanted the yelling to end, so when I was old enough to figure out what Mel was doing, it really upset me and she and I would end up fighting. But she was scary and bigger than me until I was a Junior in High School so I usually just left the situation and went to find my friends. Mel hated that and would always call me a wussy, or worse, for not sticking up for myself more. I'm pretty sure she hated me. I was OK with that at the time usually. Funny thing was, when bad things happened to Mel, I got really defensive and protective. I was the same way toward Jen. It was surprising because I didn't think I really cared.
I guess one positive thing for Mel's temperament was that she had parlayed her aggressive nature into some pretty impressive sporting accomplishments during her pre-teen and teen-age years. She was a great fast-pitch softball player, a solid long-distance runner, could mountain bike better than most guys I knew and was a GREAT swimmer. In fact, I'm sure if triathlons had been more popular in the 90's she would have been terrific at that too. Mel did well enough in school, but she wasn't a straight-A student or anything like that. She cared a bit more than me, but I think she just did well enough to stay in sports. She was pretty set on getting college paid for through sports. In fact, she ended up getting signed by the Arizona State University women's softball team, but never played. That story is for later. My dad really liked that Mel was so athletic. He was never the crazy sports dad, but he was definitely proud of her accomplishments and did whatever he could to help her improve and advance in her chosen sports. It got especially important to him when he realized I didn't like any mainstream sports. It's not that I wasn't good at them, I just didn't want to put the effort into them, and the pressure of that kind of competition never sat well with me. I think he wondered if I was really his kid, I wondered myself sometimes. For her part, Mel was always on the spot to let me know how great she was at sports and what a pansy I was. I kind of hated her too.
Friday, April 1, 2011
My parents
My parents were awesome raising us kids. Different but awesome. At least I think they were different. It's so weird how my perception of things is based on what I've experienced, even though that's not always consistent with reality. You may say to yourself, "Perception is reality, Ian!" That is a load of crap. Your (or my) perception of things does not alter reality. If there is a green sky in your perceived world, guess what, it's still blue in reality. Perception may guide or even control how we relate to reality, but it does not change how things really are. Anyway, when it came to their kids, they were ALWAYS there for us, and we never wanted for anything. We weren't rich by any means, but my dad always managed to provide, and my mom did her absolute best to create a loving home environment. However, when it came to THEIR relationship, that was kind of a different story, and very incongruous with how they treated me and my sisters, thus my uncertainty over their comparability to other parents.
I thought my parents should have gotten divorced a million times. After dealing with struggles with my wife the last few years, I can't understand how they made it. Well, yes I can. My parents' relationship was deeply rooted in their religion. They were what I'd call super-Christians. Not over-zealous in their proselyting to others about their beliefs, as some in their religion, but at home everything was rooted in Christianity. Everything was based in faith and the fact that one of their kids didn't follow their example is a sore-spot in their relationship to this day (yeah, it's me, that's a whole chapter...or ten on it's own!) And in the early 90's it was still a little weird to be divorced, or to have divorced parents, in our community, and very uncommon in my parents' religion.
My parents had some ridiculous fights. I'm aware that anyone and everyone can get involved in fights, even with ones you love, but these two seemed like oil and water. Or more like flaming oil and water. It was made worse by my drama-queen, well, drama-princess sisters fanning the flames of the already super-heated oil. There were many times I wanted to smack the crap out of my sisters, for making matters worse with these fights, but somehow I never did. I guess I got that patience from my mom (and my older sister MIGHT have been able to take me, and I didn't want to risk it). She is a saint, or I guess a "true-Christian" as she might say, since they're not Catholic and don't believe in Saints, per se. She was (and is) patient and sweet to the point that I do not know how she dealt with my dad's rants when he'd come home from his dead-end job, frustrated to no end that he hadn't been promoted, or was asked to work overtime with no overtime pay, or didn't get his supposedly deserved accolades for a project, or whatever the complaint was that sent him over the edge that particular day. He was just a negative guy, in general. I think he'd had too many "fire and brimstone" sermons screamed in his face in his lifetime, so he didn't see the positive in life, he just wanted to avoid the hell in the afterlife he envisioned. I never understood that and frankly, didn't want to live my life scared of a terrible afterlife, when I wasn't even sure there was an afterlife! Honestly, I think his religious beliefs didn't really jive with his true desires for how he wanted his life to be and the disconnects pissed him off.
The fights would set the house on high alert, what might be called Terror Level Red, in this day and age. It was pretty bad, and I would simply shut myself in my room and stay quiet, or when I got old enough, just take off for the evening to avoid the meltdown. My dad is a big guy, and there was nothing I could do to protect my mom from the screaming, so I ran away from it. There was never any physical violence, but the yelling was truly unbearable - just mean and derogatory toward a woman who didn't deserve it. It really set the tone for my marriage, and unfortunately the marriages of my sisters later in life.
I thought my parents should have gotten divorced a million times. After dealing with struggles with my wife the last few years, I can't understand how they made it. Well, yes I can. My parents' relationship was deeply rooted in their religion. They were what I'd call super-Christians. Not over-zealous in their proselyting to others about their beliefs, as some in their religion, but at home everything was rooted in Christianity. Everything was based in faith and the fact that one of their kids didn't follow their example is a sore-spot in their relationship to this day (yeah, it's me, that's a whole chapter...or ten on it's own!) And in the early 90's it was still a little weird to be divorced, or to have divorced parents, in our community, and very uncommon in my parents' religion.
My parents had some ridiculous fights. I'm aware that anyone and everyone can get involved in fights, even with ones you love, but these two seemed like oil and water. Or more like flaming oil and water. It was made worse by my drama-queen, well, drama-princess sisters fanning the flames of the already super-heated oil. There were many times I wanted to smack the crap out of my sisters, for making matters worse with these fights, but somehow I never did. I guess I got that patience from my mom (and my older sister MIGHT have been able to take me, and I didn't want to risk it). She is a saint, or I guess a "true-Christian" as she might say, since they're not Catholic and don't believe in Saints, per se. She was (and is) patient and sweet to the point that I do not know how she dealt with my dad's rants when he'd come home from his dead-end job, frustrated to no end that he hadn't been promoted, or was asked to work overtime with no overtime pay, or didn't get his supposedly deserved accolades for a project, or whatever the complaint was that sent him over the edge that particular day. He was just a negative guy, in general. I think he'd had too many "fire and brimstone" sermons screamed in his face in his lifetime, so he didn't see the positive in life, he just wanted to avoid the hell in the afterlife he envisioned. I never understood that and frankly, didn't want to live my life scared of a terrible afterlife, when I wasn't even sure there was an afterlife! Honestly, I think his religious beliefs didn't really jive with his true desires for how he wanted his life to be and the disconnects pissed him off.
The fights would set the house on high alert, what might be called Terror Level Red, in this day and age. It was pretty bad, and I would simply shut myself in my room and stay quiet, or when I got old enough, just take off for the evening to avoid the meltdown. My dad is a big guy, and there was nothing I could do to protect my mom from the screaming, so I ran away from it. There was never any physical violence, but the yelling was truly unbearable - just mean and derogatory toward a woman who didn't deserve it. It really set the tone for my marriage, and unfortunately the marriages of my sisters later in life.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Chapter 1
I'm Ian. I'm 18, I live in Chandler Arizona. I'm getting ready to graduate from High School. Or at least that's how I would have started my life story 10 years ago. Now, I have a completely different view of things as they are and as they were. I know the old cliche is "hindsight is 20/20" but they're cliches because they're true and repeatable. If I was to define myself back then by how my parents saw me (especially my mom) I would say I was good-looking, popular, and very smart. In fact, I wasn't great looking, or I guess I didn't have much confidence to carry myself in an attractive manner. I don't think I really cared. I was popular, but in a different sort of way. I just got along with everybody, no matter the clique, but only really had a handful of true friends. And I was smart but didn't apply myself in a way that it counted for much. I earned ok grades in school, but again I wasn't really interested in education. Frankly, I wasn't interested in much except hanging out. That's probably the attitude that got me into some pretty crappy places in the last 10 years. And a lot has happened. A lot that I feel is worthy of a parable - the "AZ Boy who could"? No, not so upbeat and inspirational as that, but more like "The laid back kid who grew up"!
Some might be inclined to look at my family upbringing to decipher why I am the way I am. While I am a believer of sorts in the "nurture" over "nature" argument, it can't be all that.
Some might be inclined to look at my family upbringing to decipher why I am the way I am. While I am a believer of sorts in the "nurture" over "nature" argument, it can't be all that.
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