It was supposed to be Chair Girl’s gift opening day, but I completely forgot because of my father’s death, so that co-opted everything I had planned to talk about. I spent half the session talking about my guilt feelings over not being able to grieve. I spent the next quarter reminiscing over pleasant memories I had with him.
But when only 15 minutes remained, I got triggered. I remembered that as the family scapegoat, for a long time now there have been hints and other indicators that I have been disowned and will be left out of my father’s will. I know my son is getting something. I worry that even my Narc mother, who he has been divorced from since 1972, will get something–and if SHE gets something and I do not, I will go ballistic. I may not be responsible for my actions if THAT happens.
All these people in my family talk among themselves, they have conversations that do not include me, and I am never privy to what is being said. My daughter has been disinherited too. I was never told outright I was disinherited, but I have reason to think I am, and I think my father’s wife brainwashed him to disinherit me. They all know how poor I am but I really don’t think anyone gives a shit, and what’s more, they all think I deserve it.
I don’t even trust my son. What has he been told by the family that he isn’t telling me? In my mind I imagine he’s been told he will inherit a healthy sum with a caveat that he shares none of it with me, his own mother. Or even that he can tell me nothing about what he received? Why would he say no? Any 24 year old would probably throw his own mother under the bus if it meant he’d never have to worry about money again. I wonder if his conscience would kick in at some point. Would he finally say something? I don’t know. Or would he sell out to the Narc Family Status Quo and become just another flying monkey to the Powers That Be?
So I’m in panic mode right now. I’m suspicious, paranoid and hypervigilant. I’m dreading when the will is read and I get the letter or the call. Or, is it possible they could all just leave me completely in the dark, so I only find out about my being left out through others in the family who got their inheritance? I really have no idea how these things work. I just know that soon, the cat will be out of the bag. I know this post makes me sound like a greedy, entitled, materialistic person, but it’s not that. It’s not the money per se. I wasn’t a bad daughter. I wasn’t a drug addict or a criminal. Hell, I didn’t even come out as gay (an unfortunate but common reason for parents to disown children).
I tried to be good, I tried to please everyone. I tried my best; I really did. And I apparently failed. What did I do wrong? I’ll tell you what: I didn’t become “successful” in life. I didn’t become a yuppie with a late model car and a high end home. I don’t have a high paying or “important” career. I’m poor and of the “wrong” social class. And I’m blamed for it, even though the emotional and financial tools others have to succeed in life were denied to me. Being left out of my father’s will would be like the final “fuck you.” The crack of the judge’s gavel at the end of a long trial, announcing that court is adjourned and you have been proven guilty. Guilty for BEING THE VICTIM OF A CRIME. That final fuck you would be all the proof I ever needed that my dad never loved me either, and that would devastate me because for years I’ve hung onto a thread of hope that he loved me at least a little. If something does come through for me (even if it’s less than what others get), I will at least feel like he didn’t think I was complete garbage, and for someone as love-starved as me, even a few crumbs of love tossed my way might be enough. Yeah. That’s how pathetic I am.
If I get nothing, I am done. I am done with everyone in my pathetic excuse of a family who treated me like a second class citizen and a loser. I am done with those shallow, narcissistic people who devalued and abandoned me just because I was the person who I was and didn’t live up to some impossible expectations that I was never capable of meeting. If that happens, I will never speak to any of them again. I don’t know how I’ll handle the rage I’ll feel. Will there be anywhere for it to go that doesn’t involve doing or saying something I’ll regret? I can’t imagine I’ll be able to hold it in. I’ll feel like that guy in the movie “Falling Down” who just had it with everything and everyone and went postal.
Right now I’m a nervous wreck, just waiting. Expecting devastating, infuriating, hurtful news. Bracing myself for salt being rubbed in my already gaping wounds. I imagine them laughing at my hurt, rage and pain. I feel like a horrible person that I’m more worried about what my inheritance might be (or that I won’t get one) than I am about my father’s recent illness and death.
This was what we ended the session talking about, and I left feeling just horrible. I was close to tears and my therapist apologized for having to end the session while I was so triggered, but at least he offered to see me twice next week (even though I probably can’t do it next week).
Right now, I’m sitting here crying while I write this post–tears of dread and intolerable anxiety and also pre-emptive rage (rage before anything has even happened). And the possibility of knowing, very soon now, just how hated a daughter I really was.
And this is why my therapist thinks I can’t grieve. Because I can’t allow myself to grieve as long as I feel like there’s a possibility I may find out I wasn’t loved or valued at all, by anyone in my family. I will cry if I do fin out that’s the case, but they will be bitter tears of rage and hurt. If I find out my fears were groundless, only then will I be able to grieve the way a daughter should be able to grieve for her dead father.
I’m sorry this post isn’t very coherent. I’m an emotional wreck.