Taking care of body & mind

I went to see a doctor yesterday, and had a health check-up. Something I should have done long ago.  I debated in my mind whether to tell my parents about it or not.  The check-up result has not come out, yet the doctor suspected that I might have some kind of chronic illness,  which is partially hereditary.

I will accept whatever the result is,  no matter how bad it is,  and continue taking care of myself.

Actually, my parents’ jobs are related with the medical field. But I decided not to tell them about my health condition because from experience, they will just use this to play out a drama among their relatives to make themselves look like some saints. Oh, they enjoy it so much having an opportunity to play the central figures of their imagined drama so that their audience -relatives or nodding acquaintances- will show sympathy to them. They just love the attention. They don’t really care about the one suffering. My mother has made lies to some relatives about me to sabotage my character. She doesn’t know I have found out about those lies.  I didn’t bother to confront her because I know she will never change.

I said that because for the most part of my life,  they don’t care much about my health despite their professions. They would not bother if taking care of me didn’t win them attention from outsiders.  Dr. Karyl McBride’s book “Will I ever be good enough? ” talks about for some narc mothers, image to outsiders is everything. So true!  They behave totally differently at home when only I am there,  as compared with the situations when my 3 other siblings,  their relatives,  or their acquaintances are present.

Dr. McBride also wrote about how the parental neglect is actually very clear to outsiders.  This also happened to me. After my younger sisters were born,  my parents made me do so much house chores that my hands developed a disease called KTPP,  hand dermatitis. I asked my mother to help me, but she just brushed me off,  acting like nothing happened. This skin condition has followed me ever since.  When I was maybe 8, one day,  the old lady living next door saw my hands,  and immediately asked me,  “did your mother keep demanding you to do house chores? ” Outsiders did see something was wrong,  but there was nothing they could do to help me.

I wouldn’t mind helping with chores if they are equally distributed to all of the 4 children. But never! Definitely for my older brother, he never has to lift a finger to do anything in the house.  He is treated like a prince,  the only son,  so of course,  he is much much more precious.

What’s even sadder was that  at that time,  my parents were rich enough to hire a maid.  In fact,  they did hire one for only 1 or 2 days right after my first younger sister was born.  Then,  they fired her simply because my mother didn’t want to learn how to communicate with the maid.  (I must leave some details here.  In short,  my mother and the maid spoke 2 different languages ).

So,  the maid’s workload was transferred to me.




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