You’re Not My Granddaughter
When I was seven my grandmother told me I was not her granddaughter. I remember sitting on the couch, my younger sister sitting on the floor eating her snack as we watched a cooking show that we had grown to love. We would ride the bus to my grandmother’s house after school and wait there until my mother picked us up on her way home.
“You’re not my granddaughter, that should make you happy since you don’t like me.” What a cold hearted miserable piece of woman she was right? She planted a seed of unworthiness in me and watered it for as long as she was alive. Looking back now it still shocks me that she was that miserable of a person to even open her mouth about the topic. It infuriates me that she was the one, her damaged heart felt it was her place to share that. The ignorance is astounding. I remember just sitting there in shock and not really knowing what any of it meant. My “dad” had been in my life for as long as I could remember and I called him “dad” so he was in fact my dad.
That night I told my parents what she had said, an argument ensued between them, I was sent to my room without much of an explanation. Looking back at childhood memories always fascinates me, some are so clear while others are so fuzzy and most are not even held in our awareness anymore. The days following this event I overheard conversations I probably shouldn’t have and wondered what it all meant. I am unsure how much time passed but I remember life moving on like “normal”, still going to her house and being in her presence. It was so confusing. She hated me, she wanted me to LIKE the idea that I was not her granddaughter-biologically. That’s what really mattered to her. It was a fucked up situation.
I was told about my biological father multiple times throughout my childhood and teen years. (That story is for another day). Every time the story would end with “he shouldn’t have left you”. Great what am I supposed to do with that information. Because well he did and here I am realizing that I am not “biologically” fully connected with my sisters, I have a grandmother that hates having me around and I’m being exposed to hatred towards me all the time. She made it clear for years to come. It was as if since she told me the “truth” she had the right to make it known all the time. The expectation was to still visit on holiday gatherings, go to her house after school and be part of the family. Smile and nod, hug and say thank you. She would withhold gifts for Christmas and my birthday because I looked at her wrong. She would say, well you don’t appreciate what I do so I’m not giving you the present I bought. I was exposed to so much hate it was disgusting. To be expected to ignore her behavior, I was the child.
As I write this it still amazes me that she treated me this way, mostly because she was allowed to do it. These memories bubble up for me during the holiday season. Holidays can be a time that we feel we do not have choice of how and where we show up. That we HAVE to be exposing ourselves to people that hurt us because “it’s the right thing to do”. But I challenge you….what if it doesn’t have to be that way….what if you gave yourself permission to only be around the people that make you feel good. Because honestly, who do you turn into around the people that make you feel uncomfortable? You may not notice the changes but I’m sure your spouse and kids do.
Give yourself permission to come home to YOURSELF this holiday season. Witness what joy feels like within you, not the nervous system explosion that happens every other year.
p.s. I am sharing this story from a place of vulnerability because I know other people have similar stories. I want you to know there is a way through this, I’ve done a lot of healing work and am proud of that. I know you can do it too. This was an evolution of my soul and I can now look at the experience with gratitude for showing me how NOT to be.
