en·mesh (n-msh) also im·mesh (m-)
tr.v. en·meshed also in·meshed, en·mesh·ing also in·mesh·ing, en·mesh·es also in·mesh·es
To entangle, involve, or catch in or as if in a mesh.
Used in a sentence: Shattered is enmeshed in a complex web of lust, love, and abuse.
Dear Ruth commented on how deeply embedded my parents are in every aspect of my being. And possibly more so than the typical adult child. This thought caught me falling off balance it wasn't until I fell to the ground that I took a hard look at the truth of this idea.
And she was right.
My sense of normal has always been skewed. Well meaning people always insist to me that there is no "normal" and I have always smiled and accepted their offering of kindness.
However, I'm finally going to have to flatly refuse that well meant advice because what sense of normal I have always had is certainly no where close to the typical yet non-existent normal. Ruth brought this thought to the surface when I had to look at the possibility that in many ways, I was more connected to my parents than the typical adult. Just like I used to think that everyone heard voices in their heads; I also thought that this enmeshment was normal.
But it is not. Not even close.
I lived and died by my parents hands. I starved and was fed at their discretion. I was his companion and her demise. I was his lover and her deepest competition.
And all these roles were diametrically opposed to the single role that should have existed. Parent and child.
It is creepy, weird, dirty, strange and wrong but my father was my first lover. And I use the word lover very loosely but to a daughter starving and begging for affection, that is exactly what he was. A sexual bond existed between us that served him well to emit his constant control. For many who read here, one can probably equate this bond to your first love; they are someone you have moved on from but you never quite forget.
My problem is that I never really moved on from him. He was unforgettable. He cast his net wide and though I struggled I never was quite free. I was trapped in his warped lust because I carried a bond of both a child to a parent but also a bond that intimate partners share. But now he has moved on from me. And I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel a deep twinge of impure loss.
No wonder I am so very fucked up and confused. Every single day has been a struggle lately. My only solace is that this is finally over and with each step I take I am walking out on this distorted love.