Lacking support

This is my second expressive writing post, and I have to admit that it feels a little emo. I remember my mom saying recently that she thought that I didn't believe in myself, and she was right (even though she had no evidence to back it up). I didn't, but this wasn't rocket science. I felt like they'd shot me down at every chance they could get. I was never good enough or productive enough. As an example, I'd had an idea for something. It was a new type of engine. I told my dad about it. He told me time and again, someone else would have thought of it or it doesn't work. The thing he told me my brother was something completely different. He was absolutely supportive of him. Not once, did he say anything negative about it to him. This was the same idea that I had, and we had been talking about working on it together. Eventually, I believed him that it couldn't work and moved on.

Then, I start thinking about stories and realized that I would really like to become a writer. Now, I have three older brothers. The one who is directly older than me was who I had collaborated with on the previous project. My second oldest brother is a great writer who has penned two unpublished novels and multiple screenplays (one will likely be sold soon). Naturally, I go to him for advice and start writing short stories. Also, I write down all of my story ideas and begin writing a novel in the spring of 2010. I don't get very far, only about 30 pages. When I tell my parents about this, my dad says "your brother couldn't get his published" and "Regis Philbin was talking about a book that no one wanted to publish". I took these statements to mean, you're so uncreative and untalented that you shouldn't even bother because, apparently, Rebis Philbin has to have amazing stories. When I told my mom about it, she said "you have such pie in the sky ideas". Hardly supportive.

Still, I developed an idea, and I've written it. It's 240 pages, and I'm in the first editing process. I've proven them wrong, and I still don't understand why they don't support me. I'm a fucking graduate student,and I'm not wasting my life. I understand that they may think that this won't earn me a living, but that's the point of going to school. Although, I hope it gets published, and I can make enough money from it to say "See how wrong you were". That probably won't happen, but a guy can dream. If anyone is interested in my short stories, they are available for Kindle.

Always Second

As I look back at my life, I always felt like I came second. I felt like I didn't put myself first ever (which isn't true), but, with others, it definitely felt that way. With women, I always felt like a second option. A guy to keep on the hook just in case the first option didn't work out. Even with my parents, other things always came first. I remember my dad saying that they were going to do this thing where they just listened to me for two weeks. It didn't happen, and my parents have never paid attention to the things that I say. When something went wrong, it was often blamed on me though it almost never was my fault. My parents projected their anger onto me often because, apparently, your child is a safe outlet (forget the negative consequences of it for that child). It isn't a surprise that I never felt good enough. I was never called smart by them, and my dad told me I did a good job after a day where he made a lot of money. I knew where my worth lied, and it wasn't in my brains. It was alway in work of some form for them.

I think this fostered in me a feeling of self loathing and disrespect for myself which manifested itself in this feeling of always being second. I also became a martyr. When something went wrong, I thought it was my fault. I apologized all the time even though a problem would have nothing to do with me. It shouldn't be a surprise that I became depressed and downtrodden. I couldn't do anything right. No one loved me, and I had no worth. It's taken a long time to realize this is incorrect, but these feelings come back often. It didn't help that I would surround myself with people similar to my father (blameless, lying, and accusatory). I was trying to fix them, and, in doing so, I was hoping I could fix him. It turns out that sort of thing just made me feel worse. So, I began to expunge those relationships from my life even though some were close, and I started anew. It feels great, but I still become sad often, but the period doesn't last long enough to be considered a depression which is good. This is the end of my first expressive writing post. More will likely follow. The take away point is that I'm not second. If you feel the same way, neither are you. I was second because I didn't believe in myself, and I overcame that by proving the doubters wrong.