I think that growing up there was an attitude of don't bother asking for help because you're not going to get it. I wonder how many times I asked for help and got told do it yourself. And the opposite still happens, as I get told to go help your sister. I got told to drive my sister 60 miles to see her boyfriend, when he was still married to my cousin. He now has the advise, don't have a live in babysitter.
Where was I, I think I was saying my dad had no time to help me, but expected me to stop what I was doing to help my sister. So I can say we were treated differently.
Asking for help, and constantly getting told no, I just stopped asking for help.
What I needed was something to force me to ask for help, my very life depended on being able to ask for help. In the emergency room, I couldn't get anything to eat or drink until after the operation to stabilize my wrists. With the broken wrists, I couldn't even undo my belt, and drop my pants to sit on the toilet. After leaving the emergency room I got sent to a different hospital. I couldn't even operate the spoon to eat some chocolate pudding. So, a nurse had to feed me. Later that day, I would be able to use both hands to maneuver my silverware.
To present day, I have been in the Ultra Beauty store in St. Cloud, MN. What I need to do is be able to ask for help to learn how to apply makeup. They would even be able to recommend what color to use.
I may also have a problem due to my mother making a joke out of idea of me getting makeup, or hair done or whatever. The very idea that she should give me a perm, when she would yank my hair while giving me a haircut. Another thought was I was liable to find my hair cut off instead of getting a perm.
The Ultra Beauty store could even do my hair. I could make an appointment through the web site, but was wondering if I could just walk in and have my makeup done.
The telephone, again, I don't know if I was the only one that got told not to use it. My dad worked for Green Giant, and he needed to be able to answer the phone when they called, so he would know which field the harvesting machines were in. Anyway, that was his phone as he paid the bill, If I got my own phone and paid the bill then I could use my phone any time I wanted, until then, I was to not use his phone.
I think I mentioned the microphone that he put in the house, there was also an extension phone in the workshop, and he could listen in on the conversations. Don't forget to mention that mother wanted to know all the details about any call that you received.
I had a CB radio in my car, and somebody called me. Guess what, my dad made some comment about it, because he heard it on the CB radio in his truck.
I said something about the telephone that was given to me. I kept it in a box under the bed. I may have pretended I used the phone, but I never connected it to the phone line. One day my mother answered the phone and was talking to someone. when she got done, she yelled up the stairs that I was to take my phone out to the workshop and leave it there. I was confused as pulled the box out from under the bed and blew the dust off, and proceeded to take the phone out to the workshop. The phone in the workshop was hanging from the side of the cradle. He had been listening to the conversation. My mother must have heard the click as he picked it up, and thought it was me. There was no way that I could tell her it was my dad that was listening in, as I had not connected the two together. It was the same phone that later my dad would show his buddies and tell them how his mother gave him the phone.
Michelle
