Blog 2 Adolescence

I’ve talked about the trauma from my mom always criticizing me and striking me in my younger years. I’d now like to talk about how my torture changed as I got older.

My mother, and some of her siblings used to complain about being treated as slaves when they were kids. My mother complained while exhibiting the same behavior. We’ve all seen the memes about us being TV remotes before remotes were ubiquitous. We all laughed because it was true in most houses. The thing is, most houses had seating arrangements. Mom and dad’s seats were usually in the prime viewing TV locations. Think the Bunkers side by side chairs. Oftentimes, us kids were sprawled on the floor, ruining our eyesight by sitting too close to the TV. As it was, it made sense as we were all watching the same TV, and the kids were often the closest. My mother, on the other hand, not only used us as a convenient remote control, she’d make us fetch things for her. We’d all be comfy watching TV at night, and when mom would light the last cigarette in her pack, she would ask us to get up, go to the kitchen and get her a new pack. She’d make us go get drinks, snacks, and paper. Anything the woman wanted, we were the gopher, under penalty of painful punishment.

It only got worse as I got older, and it was appropriate to start assigning household chores. About this same time, my mother had to start working. The reasons why will come in later blogs. It was a swingshift, so for the first time in our lives Kelly and I were being left home with Dad, who was perturbed at me for his own reasons.

Some of it was just headshakingly odd. I was required to set up the coffee maker and make sure the timer was set, so it would brew coffee before they woke. I got in trouble if they didn’t like the taste of the coffee I made.

As mom was working, the underlying theme is I am at the root of the financial issues too, although to be fair, my dad and I have different recollections. The thing is, he is not wrong. More on that in later blogs.

The point is, around middle school, Kelly and I would arrive to hand written notes by mom chock full of to do lists. Vacuum. Dust. Laundry. This was on top of the chores we had for our 4H Livestock projects.

This list of chores was to be finished before dinner. Because there were nightly after dinner tasks too.

In theory, we were supposed to do our homework first, if we had any. I always made sure I had none, even when I did, because the penalty for not doing homework wasn’t nearly as bad as not doing chores, at first.

If you read my first post, you know my mom was impossible to please. She expected 100% completion, to her satisfaction. If that didn’t happen, I’d get punished, oftentimes it included a double list of chores the following day. That list wasn’t going to be to her satisfaction either. All of this was enforced with violence and aggression.

However, what happens if you try something multiple times, and it ends poorly each and every time. Well, if you are trying to accomplish something epic like….a skateboard trick, you get up and try again.

But this was something I didn’t want to do in the first place. Some people were taught a responsibility to help out. Some people would be taught that it is polite to lend a hand. I was taught drudgery was expected, and it would lead to pain and more drudgery.

I learned I could find something to do away from the house, I’d get a reprieve. If it was over night, or longer, I’d find the chores completed by someone else by necessity.

My sister wasn’t the most social, so she used to hide in her room and read.

So, to summarize so far, to survive I have been conditioned to avoid work til someone else does it.

I wasn’t skateboarding, without the motivation of some reward at the end of the tunnel, then work only leads to more work and punishment. Punishment is loud and frightening, and I am already in the grips of PTSD from being punished with the rod my whole life.

I literally got terrified of effort. Effort became a zero sum game for me. I was conditioned to sit and do nothing, and wait for punishment when I couldn’t avoid work.

In a meritocracy, I am conditioned to fear effort. I learned there is no reward for effort, only punishment.

In my professional career, I have been avoiding individual projects like the plague. I am currently feeling antsy just writing about this. Every time I was assigned an individual project I balked and avoided and tried to wait for someone to help, or do it themselves, because it was so foreign to me to do it myself, It would only lead to pain and punishment, and it would never be nearly good enough. The thought of even attempting a solo project is as frightening to me as the thought of trying to fight a grizzly bear naked. I mean, I’d be naked.

Here’s the twist you only get from me…

I had the same opportunities my peers had when I hit planet Earth. All my peers, for the purpose of this, let’s narrow it to US Citizens in the high school class of ‘84 and thereabouts, had similar opportunities as I did.

Arguably, despite my potential for success, you can say my ability to take advantage of the opportunities certainly wasn’t equal, and the deficit started before I was ever in school and being influenced by professional educators.

So I had the same opportunities, in some people’s theory, but did that really leave me with an equal opportunity the same as everyone else? Was this any fault of mine?

Already MAGAs, listen up. If I had gotten this diagnosed sooner, my ceiling for success would be much higher than it was. Even today, when I get this diagnosed by a qualified doctor, I will be eligible for being a DEI hire. I am a white male who can’t function like other people, but I think it is clear that I have skills that could be highly valuable to the right company with the right situation.

Without, all this potential gets pissed away and I lead a life of untapped potential and underachievement. I shuffle from IT job to IT job till I find one that hides my deficiencies enough not to get fired.

Without DEI I am currently at the mercy of my family and the government safety nets. With DEI who knows.

More on my last job in future blogs.