Dec. 17th, 2010

angelicalangie: (Default)
A friend of mine was writing about malapropism's today and it got me thinking about the things my family used to 'pick on' each other about. here is mine;

For years the joke was that I had dyslexia. I added words, skipped others out and spelt things wrong. (From became Frome) It wasn't hard to find where that came from, my mother had the same issue. My mother however felt that were I labelled with dyslexia, far from it enabling me to have specialised teaching and not feel like I were miles behind my peers, but she felt that it would hinder me, throw me on a waste heap and I would never work, marry or be of use to society and so during her lifetime I was never assessed.

Eight months following her passing in October 2004 I had a final in Research Methods and Statistics that made me want to put my head through a computer screen and the invigilator took me to one side and suggested that I were screened for dyslexia.

Off I toddled and into an assessment some 3 weeks later. 3.5 hours after walking in and in the midst of a pregnancy scare (No I wasn't, thank god) my ordeal of an assessment was finally over. The Educational Psychologist had made his determination, and a report sent off.

Two weeks later I was read the report. I apparently am an underachiever - I have an IQ of 124 two standard deviations above average and only 8 points shy of Mensa (bugger, I missed it) and there were THIRTEEN different markers for dyslexia - somehow during my twenty year educational career, at that point, they - literally all teachers, had missed this revelation!!!

Needless to say from and Frome are still jokes these days - my mothers dyslexia tell? She spelt Cornflakes Cronflakes, At least i know where I get that from. If only I knew where my blonde hair came from both parents and grandparents were brunettes or raven haired... that's a story for another day!
angelicalangie: (Default)
 I am not normally one to sit and throw everything out in the open, but sometimes I wind up not knowing what else to do. Right now I hate myself. Right now I am doubting my relationship, and my worthiness to be loved, right now I believe everything my father ever said about me, and right now I am terrified I am becoming him.

Last night for the first time I seriously slapped my boyfriend on the shoulder as hard as I could (I may have pulled my slap a little I dunno any more). I was so angry I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried. I had spent an hour on a bus journey that takes 30 mins usually, for half an hour of that journey I was receiving calls every five minutes along the lines of “where are you?” Which made me feel defensive, then when I got to my rendezvous we had a row – to which I stormed off, too cool down, I called him over and I said to get on with getting to the restaurant a couple mins down the street.

The next thing I heard was him saying was “If you are going to dawdle and waste my time them I'm going in here.” Here being a computer games store. I looked at him as he walked in and asked “What are you doing?” and he said well it's not like you are walking anywhere in specific.” I lost my temper, and slapped him (he was wearing a big thick wool coat – so he never felt much - according to him).

I cooled off explained what I had been trying to do before his sojourn into the gaming store and we went down to the restaurant. Whilst he was getting the drinks I made the decision that I should break up with him. He deserves better than that. So when he came back, I told him to sit down and calmly (as much as you can be when there are tears involved.)

I explained that I couldn't make a promise that I was never going to do it again, I couldn't see the future and if I had done it once, then there was every chance I was going to do it again. I also explained that it was something that my father would have done to me, were he angry – and that I was terrified that I was turning into him and that if I were, I would only ever escalate.

He sat and smiled at me, then laughed and said it didn't hurt. That he probably deserved it, that he hadn't listened and it was his fault. Then he proceeded to tell me I couldn't become my father I'm the wrong sex (think literal and you get my boyfriends thinking – he was trying to make light of the whole thing). I was crying and he forgave me – and I feel it was unforgivable. As it stands we are still together.

I have been a mess today. I spoke about it with a friend and she said she's done the same to her husband, and that it was okay to do so. But, really, is it? If we saw a guy doing it to a woman we would be all over him in a New York minute for abuse, so why is there this double standard. I sure as hell don't hold me to it – notice me hating myself here.

I still hate me for this. I can't promise I won't do it again. I never have before, but I dunno about the future now that I have. I spoke to him about it half an hour ago and he was all “I'm over it, so should you be.” and “It doesn't matter and it wasn't even that hard.” but does that matter, how hard a hit is? Would we say the same to a man? No we would tell the girl to cut and run. Instead I am being told it is okay and I know it isn't. I gave him the option to walk away. |And he refuted it, and now says we are all right, that it means nothing.

I have all his forgiveness, I have my friends forgiveness, but really should I be forgiven for such an act. I am guilty of (technically) assault. Shouldn't I be in the dock with the other abusers? Shouldn't I be vilified and hated. I am no better than any wife beater in my mind … what about yours?


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