deprivation

[sanmagic7]

when speaking w/ my new T the other day, telling her a little about my early years, the word 'deprivation' came out of my mouth.  altho i've spoken before about being touch deprived, when i was talking to my T, the encompassing word 'deprivation' came out of my mouth and i realized i'm dealing w/ more than being deprived of touch. 

i can see the idea of deprivation pervading so much of my life now.  touch deprivation and how i would trade my body just to be touched, how, when i was drunk, i'd sling an arm over the shoulders of whoever i went out with, i touch peoples' arms when talking to them, even back when i smoked, and a man would offer to light my cigarette, i'd touch his hand to guide the light toward me.

deprived of the basics of living.  i remember dusting, once, then watching as my M went over the spaces i'd just dusted cuz apparently i left a few motes behind.  i once asked her if she'd teach me to cook, her answer was 'you'll have plenty of time to learn when you're married.'  this deprivation led to nearly being asked to leave the apt. i was living in w/ my S and 2 girlfriends, the first time my S and i were living somewhere other than under my parents' roof. my friends told us that if we didn't get our act together about cleaning up after ourselves, making our own food, helping w/ household chores, they were going to have to ask us to leave.  how embarrassing was that!  somehow they helped us learn what we'd never learned from our M, and had a long, lovely relationship w/ them in the end.

then the idea of deprivation on a broader scale began taking over my mind.  i was deprived of feeling like a girl, being like a girl - it was an aunt of mine who get me my first bra, talked to me about how my breasts were developing. not a word from my mother before or after. i dressed up in my dad's clothes once when i was about 5, and he laughed (i made him happy!) and nicknamed me after a comic strip character who was a boy.  when i got teased for having hair on my legs, my parents would not allow me to shave them - my dad told me that once i started doing that i'd have to do that the rest of my life - so i began wearing knee highs all the time.  when i told him i wanted to be a princess, he told me no, i didn't.  i wasn't allowed to wear makeup until i was a senior in high school, even tho i'd sneak some eyeliner every so often.  and one christmas my S and i got undershirts, which my mom noticed were for boys, and my F said 'well, they act like boys anyway.'

that deprivation evolved into me being ashamed of my 'lady parts', especially my breasts, and i've always felt uncomfortable about them, believing them to be ugly and needing to be hidden away under baggy shirts, often from the men's department.  i've worn a lot of men's clothes in my life, feeling uncomfortable in the form fit of clothes for women.  but one of my dearest memories was when i was about 5, our family went to a convention for where my F worked, and i was dressed in a wonderful taffeta black and white striped dress.  i saw a picture of me in it, and i was smiling so wide, so happy to be dressed like a girl. i loved that dress, but i don't remember ever being able to wear it again.

deprived of support, nurturing, celebration for what i accomplished.  nearly all my life i've been looking to make my F proud of me, accomplishing this and that and the other, things no one in our extended family had done.  he died when i was in my 20's, but the push to make him proud lingered, drove me to do more and more.  maybe this time . .  .

telling my parents how lonely i felt, crying about it cuz i was so distressed met w/ the 2 of them standing, looking at me, questioning me as to whether i was mental and needed a shrink.  no arm around the shoulder from either, no hug, no 'bringing me in' to comfort me.

bedtime was cold, dark, robotic.  never hugs, no kisses, no bedtime stories or being tucked in.

'stop crying or i'll give you something to cry about' was the type of attention i got  when distressed, sad, scared, whatever i might have been. deprived of nurturing, warmth, empathy or sympathy. questions weren't allowed, somehow ii knew that, so i learned to make things ok in my world the best i could. expectations ruled my roost, expected to be perfect yet given no encouragement other than 'next time you can do better'.

and when i got older, got into marriages, 3 of them, for one reason or another i was deprived of sex by all 3 hubs.  that deprivation led to me questioning my desirability as a woman.  all along the way i was deprived of kindness, care, consideration even by friends.  i was deprived of respect by the head of therapy cuz i didn't work w/ the girls therapeutically the same way she knew how to do.  she expected me to do.

so, the idea of deprivation, when it came out of my mouth last monday, hit me hard.  i believe it added to the confusion, not only about myself but about my role in the world, among people, in relationships, classes - whatever it was i was being part of.  i just didn't know how.

i needed to write this down, get it out of me, see it in black and white, so to speak.  it's much larger than i knew, had much more impact on my 'being' than i could've guessed.  i did order some clogs last year, and for the first time i remember, i wanted them to be feminine clogs, not unisex.  at the time i was struck by that, but i really love them and how they look.  i do want to be a girl after all, i am a girl, and i'm finally feeling more ok with being one.

and on and on.  this sense of deprivation, which i've kind of known is now out in full force.  dealing with it will be another level, but at least i know what i'm dealing with.  it's turned out to be an insidious wounding, not blasting in your face kind of wound, nothing physical was dealt me (which is part of the problem), yet deprivation has had long and lasting impacts on my life and living.  deep breath, and into the breach i go.

[NarcKiddo]

I am so sorry, dear, sweet, San. I am happy you got your clogs and that you love them. It is so wrong that you were deprived in that way. At least you have now been able to put a word to what you have been feeling. Deep breath indeed. We're with you. 

[Marcine]

San, I feel this deeply— your precise choice of words, your courage in squaring up with the awareness of the far-reaching impact woven in to so many experiences and memories.
Deprivation.
Deprived of.
Needs unmet.
Longing.
Unnatural treatment.

(Reading what you wrote, it poked awake a slew of dormant memories of my own deprivation. Thank you, I want to meet those memories.)

I sense natural you, very much alive and buoyant. Irrepressible and present. Your courage shines.

As you go into the breach, know you are not alone.

Shoulder to shoulder, friend.

[Kizzie]

Ah San, I feel you. I wouldn't have said I was deprived before I realized in recovery that while I had a roof over my head, three meals a day, clothing, etc., the "necessities" of life as people common refer to these were not all there was. What I did NOT have was the kind of nurturing, care, warmth, safety, sense of worth, every human being needs to thrive. These things were neglected in my life and as a result like you I know now how deprived I was of the necessities of love, appreciation, worth, belonging... 

I remember telling a T a long time ago I had a memory of standing outside the house where we lived and feeling like I was safer outside than inside. It always stuck with me that feeling and it was only years, decades really that I understood what it was all about. Alongside the anger and tension in my family, there was a coldness, a lack of something profound, deprivation.

There are a lot of lovely things you and I can give ourselves now and I'm down with that. I don't want to wait anymore for it to come to me, I can bring it for myself and I hope you do too. 

[Dalloway]

Thank you for sharing this San, I really appreciate you writing so openly about the harsh truth of the effects of deprivation. It reminded me of my own emotional neglect, the touch deprivation from my M and her inability to validate my existence. It is unbelievably hideous because it´s invisible, because it´s not something that was done to you, it´s something you needed but didn´t get. I can feel it´s omnipotence and omnipresence in my life. Once you lose one or more pieces, you´ll probably feel their absence your whole life. It´s heartbreaking to even think about it and try to process everything the deprivation robbed you of. I´m sorry for your loss, but I hope you can find those missing pieces for yourself.