Where do I fit in here?

I was raised by a father who undeniably hates women and by a mother so insecure and meek, she's never had a strong sense of self.

My father's mother dumped him off at his grandmother's house for 4 years, living in the same town, never visited him again until the day she came to bring him back to live with her.  He never forgave her.

My mother's mother was bullied by her husband who could drink too much and was known to smack her around.  This changed my grandmother, making her a bully too, especially to my mother.  My grandmother had 4 children, 2 were her obvious favorites. My mother was neither one.

So time passes and these two souls come together and start their own family.  The inception was quick, probably too quick.  Sometimes dating because much more permanent when a child comes unexpectedly into the picture.  Certainly common but none the less life changing for those involved.  This is how the family got started and once started, adding to it seems to make sense and more legitimate.  All these children were planned and boom boom, two more kids were added to the mix.  The family is complete with a mom and dad, two adorable girls and the namesake of the clan, a boy.  Hold on, that's a lot of responsibility and money is needed to raise these offspring, so it's time to hunker down and do the right thing.  Always do the right thing.  There is no choice.  Follow the rules.  Somebody smarter than you made up these laws and guidelines, the least you can do is follow along.

Years pass, lets say 6 years and people get bored.  How can we rekindle that feeling of newness and excitement we once had?  I know, lets have another baby.  And we're really ready for it this time, no surprises, just the sheer joy of a new life.  Did you know that some people like kids and some people just like babies?  I should mention here, my mom is the latter.  Once a child can talk, that child loses a lot of its shine.  Since all pregnancies are the same either, my mom could not know what would lie ahead in this last one.  My mom was so sick with with me, the day I was due, she was induced and out I popped out.

I don't know when my mom stated getting sickly but she's been that way my whole life.  She has a disease that affects her balance, it's called Minears.  This poor woman can be dizzy for days and weeks at a time.  When I was growing up I would want to watch TV with her in the bedroom, lie on the bed with her.  It was always understood and reminded to me not to move on the bed.  Eventually that habit was given up on.  My mom, physically, was always at home but she was tucked away into her mind.  I still don't know what makes her tick.  Whatever dad said went as law and "I don't know" was a frequent answer, even to some of the most critical questions that growing up brings with it.  The only thing I ever remember her being really confident about was when I got my first period which resulted in me crying all day long.  And that I needed to lose weight and not be so silly.  My mom sure does not like fat people. A trait she passed on to me for years until I realized the outside package rarely reflects what's on the inside.  Just recently, I had mentioned I had lost 17 lbs and that's all I said about it.  The next time I saw her the only thing she asked me was "Have you lost anymore weight?".

When it comes to my dad, he's an avid law and rule follower.  There are no shades of gray.  He is punctual to an obsession and very opinionated.  Too bad all his opinions and philosophies are completely opposite to me.  I look like my dad in my face and I have the same body type too.  And my dad makes me so uncomfortable I can hardly stand to stay in the same room with him alone.  The man is so testosterone laden, it's unreal.  God help me if I had ever been gay.  If I had been gay and I had the courage to tell him, that would have been it, nice knowing you all these years, see ya.  I got a tattoo at the age of 35 and he still has forgiven me for that.  He told me"unless I wanted to be taken out of the will, I wouldn't be getting a ton of tattoos."  Again, I just have the one and I have no intention of getting the another.  And while I lived at home, my dad was just a quiet entity that worked, came home, slept, and watch TV.  The only time he piped up was when he had to tell me how I was wrong about something.

I grew up with two parents who seemingly wanted little to do with me.  And the day I moved out was no different.  I moved from my parent's house on the 4th of July 1982.  I had rented an apartment with 3 other girls in Iowa City and we had the apartment available over the summer and I guess I had asked one too many times when I was going to move there because my dad announced "if I wanted to move, let's do it today".  So I stripped down my room in the morning and moved that afternoon.  My boyfriend at the time could not be bothered with riding with me to Iowa City because he "wanted to watch All my Children".  I swear to God he said that to me.  With little more than the furniture of my bedroom, a portable TV set and groceries my parents bought me, I was dumped out to start my adult life.

So where do I fit in here?  I can't follow their rules and be happy and since I don't live under their roof anymore, I am going to let their rules go.  Fitting in at the expense of your soul doesn't work anymore.