Explore the Relationships... Part 1
So far I've mostly been telling you about who was in our house, and what we were doing, but not a lot about our relationships. At this point in the story, I had Kneesaa, Stacie, Allee, Lainie, and Annie...my girls. I haven't really given you a good picture of Kneesaa and Stacie, and there was a lot going on at this point that you should know about to understand my story better. So I'm going back to Fall 2002, and taking a deeper look at my relationships with each of my girls.
So far I've mostly been telling you about who was in our house, and what we were doing, but not a lot about our relationships. At this point in the story, I had Kneesaa, Stacie, Allee, Lainie, and Annie...my girls. I haven't really given you a good picture of Kneesaa and Stacie, and there was a lot going on at this point that you should know about to understand my story better. So I'm going back to Fall 2002, and taking a deeper look at my relationships with each of my girls.
Kneesaa
This was the beginning of Kneesaa's junior year in high school, and when I looked at her and watched her, it amazed me at how much she had changed in only a year. She'd grown up a lot between 15 and 16. It also shocked me that it felt like she'd always been with me, instead of only having been with me for a year. In that year I had come to feel like she was part of me; I don't know that I could have felt any different if I had given birth to her 16 years earlier. We had all the makings of a mother-daughter relationship. She hated me a l
ot, she felt like I was too hard on her, too protective of her. And she loved me. When it counted, she showed it, and I never doubted it. We had our troubles. We went through counseling together. Of course, one of our biggest obstacles was her past, having been abused her whole life, she had no concept of what love should really look like. I could probably say that about most of my kids, especially the ones who came to me when they were older. I love Kneesaa dearly, but she never trusted that I loved her, and I think she still has trouble trusting that I love her. She was jealous of anyone else in my life. She competed with the other girls even when they didn't know she was doing it. She always needed to be seen as the good girl, the most loved. She never understood that I loved her no matter what, and that the other girls had nothing to do with our relationship. Even now, as an adult, a wife, and a mother, she competes with the other girls to be the favorite. I've given up trying to make her see I don't have a favorite, and I just let her believe she's it. If it helps her feel more secure about us, I'm OK with it.
This was the beginning of Kneesaa's junior year in high school, and when I looked at her and watched her, it amazed me at how much she had changed in only a year. She'd grown up a lot between 15 and 16. It also shocked me that it felt like she'd always been with me, instead of only having been with me for a year. In that year I had come to feel like she was part of me; I don't know that I could have felt any different if I had given birth to her 16 years earlier. We had all the makings of a mother-daughter relationship. She hated me a l
ot, she felt like I was too hard on her, too protective of her. And she loved me. When it counted, she showed it, and I never doubted it. We had our troubles. We went through counseling together. Of course, one of our biggest obstacles was her past, having been abused her whole life, she had no concept of what love should really look like. I could probably say that about most of my kids, especially the ones who came to me when they were older. I love Kneesaa dearly, but she never trusted that I loved her, and I think she still has trouble trusting that I love her. She was jealous of anyone else in my life. She competed with the other girls even when they didn't know she was doing it. She always needed to be seen as the good girl, the most loved. She never understood that I loved her no matter what, and that the other girls had nothing to do with our relationship. Even now, as an adult, a wife, and a mother, she competes with the other girls to be the favorite. I've given up trying to make her see I don't have a favorite, and I just let her believe she's it. If it helps her feel more secure about us, I'm OK with it.Stacie
Stacie was a whole different story. In a lot of ways, we got each other, and in a lot of ways, we didn't. Our love for each other was more practical, a lot less mushy. She was more tomboyish than any
other girl in the house. She hated lace, HATED pink, and if she had her way, every article of clothing she owned would be blue. Her only girlish obsession was butterflies. She didn't mess with her hair, didn't wear make-up, didn't wear dresses or skirts. I got this. I am not real girly either, though not quite to the same extent. And we shared the same taste in music...70's and 80's hard rock. She loved the classic metal bands, and the hair bands from the 80's. It was like the only thing we had in common some days. But it was enough. She hated me most of the time, but I understood that too. See, she had a bond with her birth mom, and they still spent a lot of time together. In Stacie's mind, loving me would have meant betraying her mom. This caused a lot of internal conflict for her. I tried to respect that, and not push myself on her. I wanted her to know I loved her, but that I didn't want to replace her mom, I just wanted to be there for her. Mostly I did this by respecting her space, remembering things that were important to her, buying her birthday and Christmas gifts that had meaning rather than being just things. I was subtle in letting her know I loved her. And she did the same. She remembered what I liked and what was important to me. She'd talk bad about me in her bedroom with the other girls, but secretly slip me home-made cards, or just little notes to let me know she cared. One time I was craving wedding cake...for weeks. You know, just one of those weird things. I came home one day, and she had made a small wedding cake just for me. Now, as an adult, Stacie has figured out how to love me and love her mom, and be OK with it. In fact, I think we have an even more loving relationship now, since she left the house, than we ever did when she was there.
This exploration is taking more time and space than I thought it would, so I think I'll post it in parts. Stay tuned for part 2!
Stacie was a whole different story. In a lot of ways, we got each other, and in a lot of ways, we didn't. Our love for each other was more practical, a lot less mushy. She was more tomboyish than any
other girl in the house. She hated lace, HATED pink, and if she had her way, every article of clothing she owned would be blue. Her only girlish obsession was butterflies. She didn't mess with her hair, didn't wear make-up, didn't wear dresses or skirts. I got this. I am not real girly either, though not quite to the same extent. And we shared the same taste in music...70's and 80's hard rock. She loved the classic metal bands, and the hair bands from the 80's. It was like the only thing we had in common some days. But it was enough. She hated me most of the time, but I understood that too. See, she had a bond with her birth mom, and they still spent a lot of time together. In Stacie's mind, loving me would have meant betraying her mom. This caused a lot of internal conflict for her. I tried to respect that, and not push myself on her. I wanted her to know I loved her, but that I didn't want to replace her mom, I just wanted to be there for her. Mostly I did this by respecting her space, remembering things that were important to her, buying her birthday and Christmas gifts that had meaning rather than being just things. I was subtle in letting her know I loved her. And she did the same. She remembered what I liked and what was important to me. She'd talk bad about me in her bedroom with the other girls, but secretly slip me home-made cards, or just little notes to let me know she cared. One time I was craving wedding cake...for weeks. You know, just one of those weird things. I came home one day, and she had made a small wedding cake just for me. Now, as an adult, Stacie has figured out how to love me and love her mom, and be OK with it. In fact, I think we have an even more loving relationship now, since she left the house, than we ever did when she was there.This exploration is taking more time and space than I thought it would, so I think I'll post it in parts. Stay tuned for part 2!
Tune in again to read tales about the adventures from the Angel Retreat.
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1 comment:
Thank you, Kelly, for taking the time to visit me and to feed my pet, Dylan. My daughter's Guinea Pig is also named Dylan. Dylan-Christopher.
I have been extremely busy with homework and other stuff. Unfortunately, I don't get to blog as much as I'd like to. But, I will take time to do something. I look forward to your comments and I will come back to your place soon.
Please say a prayer for my son, who just arrived safely in Iraq. He is 21 years old and this is his first tour overseas. Thank you, again, and God Bless you and yours.
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